Page 129 of Deliverance

“Whoa. So violent.” I huff an amused laugh.

“Good luck tonight. Don’t forget we’re meeting with the publicist tomorrow at noon.”

“You got it.”

I end the call and pull out a bottle of wine from the fridge, then pour myself a glass.

Zander arrives to pick me up at six on the dot. My phone pings on the nightstand while I’m studying my reflection in the mirror inside my downstairs closet. The dress is made of such fine material, I’m terrified it’ll rip if I make one wrong move. It fits perfectly, like a second skin, and goes with the black leather boots I picked to wear tonight.

Overall, I like the way I look. I hope Zander will like it too.

The phone pings again and I rush out of the closet and send him a text to give me a few minutes. He responds with a smiley face.

Asshole.

A grin spreads across my lips.

“You look marvelous, Ms. Kadence.” Bidal beams at me when I pass the reception desk downstairs.

I halt the moment I step outside. There’s a limo lingering at the curb and although my common sense tells me Zander would definitely do something like this after getting a charter flight to take me to New York to see the Guggenheim, the reality of what my life will be with him hits me hard.

Press, gossip, haters.

My breath catches. My fingers around the strap of my purse numb. I survey my surroundings, looking for cameras, but there are none. The street is calm, just like every other evening. People go about their business. After all, a woman in a nice dress being picked up by a limo isn’t something out of the ordinary in this city.

The driver sees me and swings the door open, his face kind but professional.

“Ma’am.” He tips his chin by way of a greeting when I approach and take a peek inside to make sure I’m getting into the right car.

Zander’s in the back seat. He’s wearing a pair of jeans and a black shirt.

I climb into the limo and settle in next to him. The door slams shut.

“Hey,” he says, his eyes roving over me hungrily as his hand reaches to cup my cheek.

“Hey.”

For a long moment, we just look at each other, our breaths mingling.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispers, pressing his lips to my temple, then to my mouth.

The limo starts moving.

“I think I missed you too.” I set my purse next to me and throw my arms around his neck, makeup and accessories be damned.

It’s such a strange feeling, to want someone the way I’ve been wanting him ever since we left New York.

To want to hug, kiss, and be near a man. To want his body on mine. To want to know what he’s thinking.

Zander’s hands rest on my back and the warmth is intoxicating, seeping into my bones, thawing the parts of me I thought were long frozen and lifeless. “Is everything okay?”

I draw back a little, just enough to be able to see his face. “It is.”

A smirk tilts up the corner of his mouth. “Did you grab your lipstick?”

“I did. Why?”

“Because I’m going to ruin what you have on your lips right now.”

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