Page 92 of Black Ties and White Lies

I stay silent, staring at the beautiful pair of heels inside delicate white tissue paper. I pull one of them out, making sure to treat it with care. It’s a beautiful shade of white, matching the fabric that encases my body perfectly. A thin piece of material is meant to buckle around my ankle. The most stunning part is the intricate tulle bows on the shoes. The one in my hand has a large tulle bow at the back of the shoe. The shoe still in the box has one on the tip of the shoe.

“You’ll look hot as hell when you’re butt ass naked in those,” Emma announces out of nowhere.

Her random comment makes me laugh out loud. I’m so happy they both flew here to help me celebrate. While I’ve loved being stuck in a bubble with Beck, I’m thankful to have more girl time with them. It’s the one thing that’s lacking here, spending time with my best friends. I really only ever spend time with Beck and the occasional outings with Ezra.

“Is it wrong if I don’t wear these? What if I break the heel or something?” I worry.

Winnie and Emma share a laugh. I narrow my eyes at them as they both look at me unapologetically. “You have a point.” Winnie giggles. “You aren’t the most graceful in the world, Margie.”

“I’ve been wearing heels every day since I started working for Beck, thank you very much.”

Emma’s eyebrows raise to her hairline. “Is that why the thought of you in nothing but heels makes him so horny?”

Probably.

I roll my eyes. “I’m not answering that question.”

Emma smacks the side of my thigh before she attempts to shove me off the back of the bed.

“Emma!” I yell.

“Get the shoes on. Right now.”

I slide off the bed, attempting to not put any new wrinkles in the dress with the movements. Emma hands me one of the shoes, the dainty buckle already undone for me. One of my hands grabs the back of the chaise lounge as I slide my foot into the shoe. I bring the strip around my ankle, fastening it. I repeat with the next one, marveling out how they fit me perfectly.

“God, you look hot as hell,” Emma notes.

“I agree.” All three of us look toward my open bedroom door, finding Beck leaning in the opening with a smirk on his face.

Emma rolls on the bed, tucking her chin in between her hands. “Hey, Beck, tell me. Do you have any friends?”

His eyes don’t leave me. It’s like the first time he stared at me all over again, my skin feeling every movement of his gaze. “I have a few. Why?”

“Are they single?”

“They are.”

“I need one of you. Margo can’t haveallthe fun.”

“Something tells me you don’t miss out on fun,” Beck responds, taking a step into the room. He doesn’t look at either Emma or Winnie as he comes to stop in front of me. He looks me up and down with appreciation.

“I can’t fucking wait for everyone in this city to know you’re mine.”

“HaveI told you how stunning you look tonight?” Beck leans in close, planting a kiss right below my ear.

“Many times.” His lips travel over the hollow of my throat, making me arch into him in pleasure.

“Good. You deserve to know how all fucking night I’ll be thinking of how sexy you are.” His hand snakes up my thigh, pulling at the silk fabric of my dress. At first when he’d told me we’d be taking a private limo without my friends, I was upset. I’d wanted to spend as much time with them as possible. I didn’t put up a fight for long, however. All it took was Beck telling me he had to share me for most of the night, he just wanted a private moment between us before we spent the rest of the night with people. I understood his feelings. I wasn’t used to having to share him with so many people. It’s as if sometimes I’ve forgotten how busy his social life really is, how many people crave his attention.

Emma and Winnie seemed just fine riding with Ezra to the event, so I’d agreed. Something I’m extremely thankful for as I feel Beck’s lips press to the delicate skin of my collarbone. Finally getting the heavy fabric out of the way, Beck slips his hand underneath the dress, running a fingertip along the side of my knee.

“Beck,” I moan, knowing where this could lead.

“Yes, baby?”

I look at the open partition of the limo. As if he senses my unease, he pulls away from me, slapping his palm against the button to raise it. It loudly rises, the driver thankfully doesn’t look up, keeping his eyes focused on the road as we disappear behind the barrier.

“Better?” he questions, pushing my dress all the way up my leg. His fingertips brush the inside of my thigh. My head falls backwards. I should stop him. The last thing I need to do is mess up my hair or makeup before he presents me to the elite society of New York he calls friends and family. Yet, I don’t stop him when he bunches the fabric around my waist, no doubt wrinkling the fabric I’d worked so hard to keep wrinkle free.

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