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I nod, swallowing. “I already am.”
Releasing me, he steps back. “I’ll leave the other outfits here for you anyway. My godson has informed me that you’ll be at every must-attend event in the next few months, so I’ll drop by in a couple of days to bring you some formal options as well. Now, I need to go and stop Thorn from trying to wear pastels,” he says with a faux shudder.
Yolanda takes his place in front of me the moment he slips from the room, pinning my hair over one shoulder and touching up my lipstick. “You look hot, girl, my work here is done. I’ll see you in a couple of days.”
“Thank you,” I say warmly, watching as she collects her huge wheeled case and leaves.
When I spin around, I find Gulliver lounging across the bed. I’d forgotten he was even in the room, but his eyes are hooded and watching me intently. “I have something for you,” he says, his voice smooth and polished, so unlike the way he normally sounds around me.
“Is it my old cell phone back? I know you took it,” I say with an arch of my eyebrow.
His lips break into a smile, and he rolls off the bed and closes the distance between us. “I donated that thing to a museum. They were impressed. Said that they hadn’t seen such a well-maintained antique in years.”
“It was hardly an antique.”
“It was fifteen years old,” he says, palming my neck and guiding me toward him.
Ducking out of his hold, I sidestep him. “What are you doing?” I ask.
“I was trying to kiss you.”
Earlier, I took so much comfort from his touch, but between the dress that reminded me of my sister and Fitzy’s sweet touch and sincere words, it all feels too much. Two weeks ago, I was alone, trapped in a half-life where every step I took was a lie. Now I have more people than I’ve ever had, but somehow that makes me feel even more alone, and the lifeline that Gulliver represents could either save or destroy me.
I don’t know what he sees in my eyes, but my back hits the wall as he grabs me, backing me up until I’m surrounded by him and unable to get away. “What the fuck is going on?” he growls.
“We need some boundaries. You can’t keep treating me like I’m your girlfriend,” I cry, desperately trying to hide the break in my voice.
“Fiancée,” he immediately volleys back. “I’m treating you like my fiancée.”
“I’m not your fiancée, though,” I whisper, deliberately not looking him directly in the eye, knowing that if I do, I’ll be caught in his gaze and forget my solid, sensible argument.
Instead of disagreeing, he laughs, and the sound is so low and seductive that I feel myself involuntarily shivering. “I’m done playing pretend with you. But is that what you want, Izzy? Do you want to pretend that I didn’t fuck you last night? That you didn’t wake up naked wrapped up in my arms? We can do that if you really want to. You can pretend that you don’t feel anything for me, and I can pretend that I believe you and that my dick isn’t rock-hard every time I’m near you.”
Unable to resist, my eyes lift to his, and I feel myself wavering.
“I’ll do that for you, Ghost, if that’s what you need. I’ll play pretend, or we can forget the lies and we can embrace this connection. Not everything has to be complicated, Izzy. Some things are just simple.”
The way he’s looking at me makes it impossible for me to say no, even though a part of me wants to. But I don’t think he’d believe the lie, even if I told him I didn’t want him. There’s something about the way he looks at me, touches me, and kisses me that makes me feel beautiful, and not because I look like my sister, but almost in spite of that.
I know that everything that’s happened between us started because he hates my sister, and there’s nothing but disgust in his eyes when he looks at her. But he doesn’t look at me like that, and it’s a heady feeling that I’m struggling to resist.
Simple. That’s what he’s offering me, but I don’t have any idea what that means. Does it mean that we’re just adding another thing to the ways we’re using each other?
I’ve spent too many years hidden in the shadows, and now I’m being plunged into the light, and I don’t understand the rules of this world.
The word yes is on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t quite say it.
Scoffing, he steps back, and the sound of his disappointment makes me feel nauseous, like I’ve disappointed him. Pushing his hand into his back pocket, he pulls out a black velvet box and throws it toward me. “Here.”
Catching the box, I blink, looking down at it in confusion.
“You’re supposed to open it,” he says mockingly.
Carefully, I lift the lid, revealing a fine yellow gold chain with a tiny ghost charm with amethyst eyes hanging off it.
“A little ghost, for my Little Ghost,” he says, taking the box from my hands and pulling the chain free. “It’s an anklet,” he whispers as he crouches down, running his fingers along the back of my calf before securing the adorable chain around my ankle, the tiny ghost resting on my ankle bone.
“I love it,” I whimper, my voice thick with emotion.
