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It sure as hell wasn’t because he wanted her. He’d stated plainly yesterday that he wasn’t there for her. And hadn’t he responded with a cold hard no when she’d first made the ludicrously hopeful suggestion?
What on earth could’ve changed between then and now to make him want this? Surely not the kiss?
Questions dogged her, sending her pacing through her suite after breakfast with Sergios. He tried to coax her into going for a walk with him afterwards, but she was too riled up about his son’s announcement to be tempted to stretch the boundaries of her freedom for the first time.
Her rollercoaster of agitation only intensified when the concierge rang at four p.m. to say there was a couturier heading up to the penthouse. The elegantly dressed middle-aged woman swept in with two assistants, one tugging a gold porter’s trolley bearing three sleek garments bags and boxes of matching accessories, and the other carrying a large case that turned out to contain the very best in luxury make-up.
The folded note bearing her name attached to one garment bag was short and succinct.
Choose a gown. I prefer the red. A
On the heels of spending hours in the grip of confusion, Odessa’s first knee-jerk reaction was rebellion. And that spurt of rebellion hardened when the garment turned out to be a sleeveless floor-length blood-red satin sheath with a plunging neckline and no back at all.
Heat flared in her cheeks as she imagined herself in it with no underwear—because there was no way she could pull off wearing panties, never mind a bra, in this dress.
‘Diavolo, no!’ she snapped under breath, ignoring the looks that passed between the other women.
Thrusting it aside, she reached for the next bag, somewhat mollified when she saw an off-white dress. It was better, but still a little too risqué, with its thigh-high slit and geometric gaps beneath the bust and at the hipline. She wasn’t in the mood to show so much of her midriff and hipbones, thank you very much.
The last garment made her exhale in relief.
Ice-blue, with a waterfall skirt in soft chiffon, the halter neck design would leave her arms free in the cool early autumn air, and while a slit in the back negated wearing a bra, it was still tasteful enough that she reached eagerly for it.
‘This one.’
The couturier snapped her fingers. Within minutes, matching accessories had been laid out. A quick shower later, and she was in front of the mirror in her dressing room, the experts barely intruding as her hair was blow-dried, curled and styled in an up-do with tendrils framing her face. The make-up accentuating her eyes in dark and silver shadow was understated, and yet dramatic enough to make Odessa’s mouth gape in astonishment.
All three women gushed compliments, and once her dress, shoes and clutch bag were in place, they were spirited away as dramatically as they’d arrived.
It wasn’t the first time she’d dressed up to meet a man. Her father had paired her up and dangled her in front of friends’ sons and acquaintances more times than she could count. But this was the first time she’d dressed for Ares Zanelis. And as much as she despised the nerves chewing her up, she couldn’t stem them.
She rose from the sofa when he entered, and watched him grind to a halt, his eyes wide with something heavy and profound that restarted the rollercoaster all over again. She withstood his intense scrutiny, feeling every second of the thorough, almost obsessive head-to-toe inspection, and his utter fascination with looking into her eyes.
She knew the make-up made her eyes look saucer-wide and almost haunting, but...
‘If you’re going to make a big deal about me not wearing the red dress, save your breath. I’d rather wear nothing at all than wear that thing.’
She only realised what she’d blurted a moment later and groaned under her breath.
Ares prowled closer, his fingers undoing his suit jacket before he shrugged it off. Odessa hated it that she had to fight to drag her gaze away from the chiselled perfection he revealed.
‘Is that so? Well, far be it for me to subject the public to the scandalous spectacle of your nakedness.’
The smile teasing his lips sparked a suspicion that drew a gasp. ‘The red wasn’t your real choice at all, was it?’
His amusement deepened and she knew she’d been played. ‘I suspected you would want to show your claws. You always were your fiercest when given an order.’
The recollection of him saying something similar years ago landed sharp and raw between them, making her pulse race. But his amusement evaporated a second later, indicating that he hadn’t meant to bring that up. Hadn’t meant to share that memory with her.
‘I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes,’ he clipped out, then strode off, leaving her stomach churning once again.
She’d barely got her runaway pulse and scattering senses to calm when he returned. His business suit had been swapped for a black dinner jacket and matching trousers with a thin strip of black satin down the side seam that accentuated his lean athleticism. The first few buttons of his midnight-blue silk shirt were undone, baring his strong throat and the faintest wisps of chest hair.
Odessa was immediately thrown back to a younger Ares, rising out of the sea after an illicit midnight swim. Even back then she’d been in complete girlish awe over his chiselled form. Now every womanly cell in her body heated at the erotic sight of all that raw male perfection, barely restrained by the trappings of sophistication.
‘Shall we?’ he rasped.
Blinking to drive away the lascivious thoughts, she glanced past him. ‘Is Sergios not coming with us?’
