Page 87 of The Lies of Bryn van Doren

Adjusting her hands so her fingers are laced between his, she holds onto him and promises, “He won’t. He won’t hurt me. Not on purpose, anyway.”

The doubt she sees in his eyes begs her to admit the truth. She doesn’t know how badly she needs to say the words until she does.

“I’m falling in love with him.”

A moment of silence settles between them. As they stare at one another, the tension that eases in her chest—a tension she tried her damnedest to dance away—finally releases.

“Jess…”

“Maybe it sounds ridiculous or reckless or just flat out stupid. I mean, he’s only known my real name for a week, and my mom just died, and I’m…a mess.” Stefano grows blurry as her eyes fill with tears. She blinks, needing to see him clearly as she tells him, “But this thing we have—it’s real. I know it is. You’re just going to have to trust me, okay?”

“And if you’re wrong?”

Forcing a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, she shrugs and says, “It’s like I said. You’re my best friend. If it all falls apart, I know you’ll come hold my hand and help me pick up the pieces.”

“Yeah,” he agrees resolutely.

With a sniffle, Jessica untangles their fingers so she can dry her cheeks. She then takes another slow sip of her coffee and prepares herself for what she intends to tell him next.

“So—I’ve got a lot of things to figure out. I barely know where to begin. And I know what I’m about to ask might sound crazy, but you can’t say no.”

Stefano smooths his hands over his hair, leaning back against the booth as if the last ten minutes alone have already exhausted him. “Say no to what?”

“I need to go shopping for a dress. Not just any dress—but the kind of dress the likes of which could hang with the Gucci in Stefano Neal’s closet.”

Quirking an eyebrow, he mutters, “Excuse me?”

“You can’t say no…”

Unable to curb his inner smartass, he inquires, “Was there a question I missed?”

“Will you go shopping with me? Please?”

“Now you’re just playing me,” he says, folding his arms across his chest. “You know I like to shop.”

This time, when a smile pulls at each side of Jessica’s mouth, the expression reaches all the way up to her eyes.

Khalohn straightens hisblack bow tie, then reaches for his black, Christian Dior tuxedo jacket. He slips it on, adjusting his shirt cuffs as he tries to make sense of what he’s doing. Somehow, Jessica has convinced him to attend the gala.

Maybe it was the Ralph Lauren gown she brought home the day before yesterday,he thinks to himself as he prepares to make his way to his dressing room.

Given tuxedos aren’t his first choice of attire—as a tuxedo usually means he’s on his way to an event meant only to remind the public of his success—he doesn’t keep them hanging with any of his other suits. This, along with the fact that Jessica’s gownisin the dressing room, was all the excuse he needed to finish getting ready in his second closet. With their departure time imminent, he assumes Jessica must be about ready. However, when he darkens the door of his dressing room, he stops short at the sight of her.

He’s seen the dress. After she brought it home and convinced him she wanted to accompany him to the gala, she’d hung it, leaving the garment bag zipped closed. The next morning, while she was still sleeping, he snuck a peek. He knew what the Audrey cape gown looked like. What he didn’t know was his womaninthe dress would steal his ability to conjure words, restrict the flow of oxygen to his lungs, and send a rush of blood to his groin so fast, he would question if he was thirty-five or fifteen years old all over again.

Sensing him in the doorway, Jessica turns to face him directly, smoothing her hands down the front of her gown. It’s sleeveless, her shoulders completely bare, while the top of the dress clings to her chest, around her upper arms and back. The front is simple, hugging her curves until the fabric drops from her hips down to the floor. It’s the cape which defines the dress. It starts at her arms and extends around her back, the excess material draping to the floor and extending behind her in a short train.

She’s curled her hair in big waves, all of which she’s styled over one shoulder. Her makeup is dramatic, but not overly so. It’s fitting for the occasion, and he thinks she looks absolutely beautiful—even as she fidgets nervously.

“I was actually looking for a black dress. I thought it might be more appropriate. But then Stefano insisted I try this one on and…”

“Red suits you,” says Khalohn, finally finding his words. “You look gorgeous.”

“Thank you.” Turning slightly, she looks over her shoulder and asks, “Will you zip me up all the way?”

“Of course.”

Khalohn can’t remember the last time he helped a womaninto her clothes, but he doesn’t want to remember. Right here, right now, he only wants to remember her. After he’s pulled the zipper to the top, he slides his hands over her shoulders, holding her gently as he leans down and presses a kiss against her exposed neck.

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