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“Itisa nice dinner,” I said, returning the mocking look.
Confusion and then surprise lit his gaze. He smirked.
“Yes,” he breathed. “That it is.”
TWELVE
NICK
The next step in publicizing our little fake relationship was attending the gala.
It was the Fischers’ gala, and it was supposed to be a charity event where elites came together and donated money to a cause of choice. But in reality, it was just an excuse for the rich to flash their wealth and designer clothes, all in the name of philanthropy.
I usually skipped the event entirely, preferring to make anonymous donations. But this year, I was going to attend to make a big statement with my new “fiancée.”
First, I needed an expert designer to make her the most beautiful dress ever.
“Where are we?” Lisa asked as we approached the curious building made entirely of glass. It was surrounded by greenery and sat in the middle of an empty field, making it look like a serene, secluded greenhouse. I swung my Mercedes close enough to park and got out to open the door for her before I answered, “A dressier.”
She blinked as she took my hand and stepped out of the car. “I’m not going to lie. I have no clue what that is.”
Neither did I until a few years ago when I started getting custom-made suits. I’d sent a few of my past flames here, too, as a gift, and they’d all pretty much squealed in delight. But Lisa’s ignorance was refreshingly down to earth.
“They’re essentially designers who make designer pieces from scratch,” I explained. “My clothier used to be the head designer at Tom Ford until he retired.”
“Oh. That’s nice.” She glanced around distractedly. “But why are we here again? You need a fancy new suit to match the new car?”
I chuckled at her daring gaze. Her sassy comments were a near constant now, and she seemed to have gathered some boldness after our second date when she touched my cock with her feet. It was a vivid memory in my head now. Up until her feet rested on my cock, I didn’t actually believe she would go through with it. I thought she would get to somewhere around my upper thigh and then balk. But no. She went all the way and even massaged my cock with her feet, making me hard as hell. Fuck, it was the hottest thing I’d ever experienced.
I’d been with adventurous women before, but none of them had ever driven me that wild. And it wasn’t just the act itself, even though the teasing was arousing, but it was also the fact that it was Lisa doing it. The unexpectedness added an extra layer of maddening lust. Lisa was so shy and withdrawn most times, all blushing bride, but now I understood that I was right in my assessment of her. She was a tigress who was very good at hiding her claws.
And now, I was crazy to find out more about her. I was crazy to see the claws and everything else. It was more than mere curiosity at this point. It was intrigue—that was the word. She intrigued me.
“No new fancy suits,” I said to answer her question. “You're the one who needs a new dress for the gala.”
“Oh,” she said, and then a confused expression spread across her face. “Well, that’s nice and all, but it’s not necessary. I have a brand new dress I haven’t worn yet.”
“You can’t wear it,” I told her plainly.
“You don’t even know which dress it is.” She sounded put out by my instant refusal.
“No, but I can guess. It’s probably black. Something off the rack, on sale. It hangs off your body and gives nothing away. Also makes you look like a sexless nun or the governess of a haunted mansion.”
She gasped in outrage, which let me know that I had hit the nail on the head. I nearly laughed.
“Either way, you can’t wear it,” I told her. “This gala is one of the most pretentious parties I’ve ever been to, and there’s a lot of press at events like this. They’re annoying, but it’s important to look the part, especially since we’re dating. No one will buy our love story if I let you wear something off the rack.” A random curl of hair escaped her hair tie and flew against her cheek. I moved it aside. “If I’m as in love with you as they say I am, I’ll have you in the most extravagant gowns you can imagine.” I trailed a hand down the side of her neck, watching her pulse skitter, addicted to the way her skin shimmered. “I would cover you in diamonds and rhinestones. Beautiful Egyptian silks and satins. Velvet, golds, and lush greens.”
“I don’t like green.” The protest was weak, clearly a last-ditch effort.
I shook my head, smiling. Most women would be jumping for joy at the idea of getting a new custom-made dress from a well-renowned designer. But once again, she looked like I was asking her to part with one kidney.
“And the dress wasn’t on sale.” She stuck her nose up in the air and practically sniffed when she said, “I actually got it at full price.”
“I’m very happy for you,” I said wryly. “Come on, let’s go in. Gustavo is waiting.”
Gustavo, the owner of White Sand Clothier, was standing behind the counter, frowning at what looked like a pattern-making book.
“That makes no sense,” he muttered to himself. “Are these people idiots?”
