Page 31 of Gilded in Blood

Her smile drops. “What? Why? What’s the problem?”

I gesture at her, jaw tight. “There’s no way in hell you’re going out dressed like that.”

She looks down at herself, genuinely confused. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“I’m already risking taking you out of this apartment. You might as well paint a target on your back in that color. Red is conspicuous as fuck. Go change.”

She huffs. “Fine. If the color is the issue, I can wear a different dress⁠—”

“No.” The word is out before I can think. The thought of her in another dress, something equally tight, equally revealing, makes my blood run hot.

“No dresses. At all.”

She stares at me, shocked. “Then what am I supposed to wear?”

“Something that doesn’t make you stand out. A hoodie. Sweatpants. Anything that hides you.”

She blinks. “A hoodie?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t have any hoodies here.”

Of course, she doesn’t. I drag a hand down my face, then turn and walk to my bedroom. I grab one of my black hoodies and bring it back to her.

She looks at it like I’ve lost my mind. “You’re joking, right?”

“Nope. You want to have dinner with your family? You do this my way.”

She grumbles something under her breath but snatches the hoodie from my hand and walks back to her bedroom.

When she comes back dressed in it and a leggings, the sight nearly undoes me.

The hoodie swallows her small frame, the hem falling to mid-thigh. The sleeves are so long she has to fold them back.

She looks soft. Seeing her in my clothes does something primal to me. Worse than the red dress. The red dress made me want to fuck her. This makes me want to keep her.

I swear under my breath.

“Fucking perfect,” I mutter. “Let’s go.”

She adjusts the sleeves, still looking displeased, but there’s something almost shy in the way she tugs the fabric closer around herself. I have to force myself to look away.

Giving her my hoodie might have been an even bigger mistake than letting her out of the apartment.

Because now all I can think about is peeling it off her later.

CHAPTER TEN

Milana

I can't believe I'm actually wearing Ilya's hoodie, instead of the dress I had planned.

Then again, I understand his point. If someone is watching, the less attention I draw to myself, the better.

Still, that doesn't stop me from being painfully aware of what I'm wearing.

Just a few days ago, he could barely stand to be in the same room as me. And now here I am, wearing his hoodie.