Page 28 of Devoted
We had to remind him how most people don’t read as quickly as he does, so here we are, a few weeks later, all read up and ready to discuss the world of the Enchanted Vale.
“Who is Ben Barnes?” Ezekiel asks, and both Emma and Harriett gasp at him.
“Oh, you are gonna learn today, honey,” Emma tsks, taking out her phone as she begins to give Ezekiel a rundown. While they scroll together, I scoot in next to Harriett and hug her once I’m situated.
“How are you doing, sweetheart?” Harriett asks. Every time she checks in with me, I can feel the genuine interest radiating from her. On the surface, she and my mother can come off the same—professional, stern, maybe a little detached, too. But with Harriett, she is all warmth from a special kind of tough love when you get to know her.
“I-I’m doing okay,” I stammer, flushing slightly when replaying my little striptease not even thirty minutes ago. Can you fucking imagine if I told her the truth? I was just dancing in my underwear while my stalker watched. Oh, and that stalker happens to be your son.
Jesus Christ, Vivian.
“How are you?” I ask, deciding that a polite question is a lot better than divulging the truth. I set my annotated book on the table as Harriett tells me about her day at work.
We all fall into pleasant conversation, sharing a dozen mini-pastries between the four of us as we talk about the happenings in book one and theorize predictions for book two.
As I look around the table, I realize we’re a little bit of an eclectic group, varying in so many ways, but still fitting together much like Rosalina and her princes in the book.
Other than a few people I met in design school, I don’t have many friends outside work. I’m beyond grateful to how seamlessly the Adlers accepted Emma and me into their world.
There’s only one more Adler to get on board.
CHAPTER TWENTY
KNIGHT
Her thighs will be the death of me.
Life is a cruel joke. My punishment for staying and watching Vivian strip down last night will surely be paid in full in a few minutes. I need to walk over to her office if I’m going to make the appointment we scheduled for my fitting. She kindly texted me a reminder last night when I was trying to get my cock to settle down after watching her alluring display.
The whole reason I volunteered for this showcase was to take the spot away from Vivian. One might call me a spiteful asshole for doing so, and I wouldn’t disagree. My sacrifice almost seemed worth it until Alek managed to find an extra spot in the performance lineup, making it worth nothing.
Not only would I have to see Vivian perform on stage, but now I’d be making a fool of myself for no reason. I’m not a dancer. My body has only known the labor of the typical sports you see in schools—football, soccer, etc. And even then, it’s been so long that I hardly am in tune with my body as I once was.
This is going to be a disaster.
Pausing outside Vivian’s door, I give myself a moment to breathe, in an attempt to dispel my anxiety. I’m just as nervous about my fitting as I am about my performance later this month. There are things I keep hidden that I’ll have to navigate carefully during this appointment, and with my activities from last night, the list of secrets keeps growing and growing.
Working up the courage to come in, I knock once and open the door to the small room. Vivian stands not a foot away from the entrance, paused mid-step like she was coming over to open the door herself.
“Hi.” The small greeting is all I can manage.
“Hey,” she replies, just as meekly. Maybe this is an awkward occasion for her, too. One day, I was pinning her against the wall as my fingers coaxed her pussy, and the next day, I was a complete jerk to her.
It all led to this situation.
“Come in and lock the door, please,” Vivian orders, breaking the silence that was building. She turns around, seeming confident that I’ll follow her orders.I do.
My feet drag as I walk toward her. The guilt from the things I’ve done is a piling weight on my shoulders.
“It’ll be easier to get your measurements if you could take off your suit jacket, please.” Vivian stands in front of a barstool, measuring tape and notepad in hand. How is she so calm with me?
How does she not know the type of man I am?
Nodding, I shrug off my jacket and place it on a nearby chair. I’m left standing in my pants, a thin dress shirt, and a wide-shouldered athletic tank top underneath it. Unsure of how fittings usually go, I decided to wear the tank top in case she needed me to strip down further than this.
“Take a seat, and I’ll start measuring you. Then we can talk about costume options,” Vivian says, nodding her head toward the stool only a few feet in front of her.
As I take a seat, I note how she’s much too close and way too far at the same time. After seeing her last night, gloriously stripped down to almost nothing, it would only be fair for her to demand the same of me.
