Page 212 of Mangled Memory
“Why indeed.” His cryptic reply has me turning on the spot.
“What’s your background, Fitz?”
“Army Rangers, ma’am.”
I don’t know shit about special forces or anything. But I hedge my bets. “So you know how to be stealth but chose not to be.” It’s a statement not a question. I hold his gaze until some kind of understanding passes between us. He wanted to be discovered. Hmmm.
I nod, giving nothing more away. “You have my camera equipment from the day this happened.” I point at my head as if the weight on my shoulders is an event in our lives.
“I do.”
“Good.” I turn on my heel, click my tongue for Eleanor again, and smile as she bounds up to me.
Without another word, I walk to my car, open my passenger door, and allow the frosty pup and her muddy paws onto the white leather of my car. “Who’s a good girl?”
I don’t look back as I drive the winding roads toward Cian’s house. A black SUV, and a nice one at that, follows at a consistent distance the whole way. When I park, I look at the dog who would’ve laid down her life for me today. “Not a word to your dad. He’d have my head.”
17
like camp, only with caviar
Ayla
When I say we have help I mean we havehelp. People do our yard, though in the winter that’s less of a groundskeeping and more of holiday staging, lighting, and manicuring the snow. Seriously. We have too much money if we pay people to do this shit.
Our house is holiday festive. Lights, trees, the sounds and smells. We’re hosting a social gathering of Christian’s clients this evening. Waiters in tuxedos passing flutes of champagne and catered amuse-bouche before a sit-down dinner. The fact that I learnedhors d’oeuvresisn’t the term people in this circle use says enough.
Jessi gave me a cut and blow out then swept me up into an elegant and complicated updo this afternoon. It discreetly covers my scar and the previously shaved patch that’s growing out. Paired with my French-inspired minimalist makeup and bold red lip, I’m ready to fake it ’til I make it tonight.
My forest green velvet dress has sleeves to the wrist and a high neck, but dips to just above my ass in the back making it the ultimate tease of a dress. Elegant, formal, and modest in all the photos, and there will be pictures.The Posthas been invited as have several magazines.
I’m popping my last diamond earring in when the door to the bedroom opens and Christian walks in. His custom suit couldn’taccentuate his body more. The richest black with a black and silver silk tie. It oozes wealth and speaks to power and influence.
His angular face is freshly shaved. His nearly black eyes and full mouth make him look like he just stepped off the catwalk in Milan. To this day, I’ve still never seen a more beautiful man.
He stops dead in the entryway, holding the doorknob, taking me in from top to toe. His pause is only momentary before he comes to me, crowding my space, and leans in to kiss me under my ear. I fight the shiver that wants to run my whole body.
“You’re always beautiful, Princess, but tonight you take my breath away.” His whisper is sensual and a caress to my senses.
His hand wraps my hip, but it’s the hiss of his huge intake of breath that surprises me. He pulls back, spins me away from him, and uses his fingers to trace the outline of my dress and the fabric that rides dangerously near my crack.
“Game on, Ayla. Game. Fucking. On.”
“What?” I look down at my dress. “Should I change?” I’m baiting him and I know it.
So does he. “No, wife.” He slides a hand down my spine from mid back to the seam of the dress where his fingers toy with the edge, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “You most certainly shouldn’t change.”
“Oh, good. I’d hate not to be holiday appropriate. What would our guests think?”
“As if you’ve ever worried about what our guests think… Artists have that way about them.”
I reach up and tweak the knot of his perfectly done tie. “I may be one of those creatives that care less about social convention, but I’d never do anything to willingly hurt your business, Christian. If this isn’t right, please tell me. It just spoke to me.”
His lips come to hover over mine. He whispers there, “Let those voices have their way anytime, but show some mercy on the men tonight. I’m sure I won’t be the only one sporting a semi watching you work the room.”
“I’d hate to be a temptation. Want me to sit this one out?” I whisper right back.
“I want you to sit this one on my cock, Princess.” He pulls back to hold my gaze. “I want you like a marathoner wants water. I want… you.”
