She's lucky I didn't get her an actual collar.
SIXTEEN
BELLAMY
I clasp the gold chain around my neck and flip the visor up before turning the engine off. It's not tight by any means, but a constricted sensation creeps around me.
I'm not an animal.
And I fully understand that physically I belong to him. I know what I agreed to. But I didn't know I'd have to wear something twenty-four seven to remind me.
It's almost worse than Cortland proclaiming at Bible study last night that he'd spent the afternoon looking at promise rings for me. It took every ounce of strength in my body to give him my ring size with a smile on my face.
When I climb out of the Land Rover, I click the button twice just to hear the sonar beep an extra time then stand back and admire how sleek and sexy my new ride is. I worried about explaining this beautiful beast to my family, but my father took it exceptionally well. I think he was just relieved he wouldn't have to buy me a new car. The Chrysler should be out of the shop next week, but I'm going to tell my father to sell it. By the time I'm done working for Dane in a few months, I'll be able to afford something one-hundred-percent mine.
"Dane's not in today," Marlene says when I walk past her desk that morning.
I stop short, cocking my head. "Is everything okay?"
"Death in the family." She presses her hand across her heart. "He might be in later today, but we're not sure. He's with Beckham right now. Private burial on Saturday. That's all I know."
My heart aches for the man with the ice-block heart who's probably suffering in silence, not allowing anyone to comfort him. I wish he'd let me be with him. Granted, I'm not his girlfriend but still. I could at least serve him by offering my support.
Then again, he made it clear earlier in the week that I'm not in his "inner circle."
I slip the diamond necklace off when I get to my desk and place it in an organizer tray in my top drawer. If he's not here, there's no sense in me wearing this. Pulling out my phone, I send him a text.
SORRY FOR YOUR LOSS, DANE. I'M HERE IF YOU NEED ANYTHING.
Send.
He doesn't respond, and like some spineless pushover, I can't help wanting to do something more to please him. I yank the drawer out and fish around for the necklace, slipping it around my neck and taking a selfie. It's just my décolletage, the photo centered on my necklace. I leave out my face and cleavage, as I'm not about to make his day of mourning about sex or teasing.
I examine the photo and send it to him without a caption before taking the necklace off once again and tucking my phone back in my purse. He can do with it what he wants, but I refuse to take it personally if he doesn't respond. He's busy, and I know family comes first.
My morning consists of playing solitaire and making too many trips to the break room for some Earl Grey tea from the Keurig machine. My afternoon consists of way too many bathroom trips thanks to said tea, and a little light Internet browsing. I've never actually shopped online, but I type in any store name I can think of and add a dot com to the end and squeal like a schoolgirl when the website pops up. I'm not sure why my father needed to block all these websites. It's not like looking at shoes or bags would be some gateway to the darkest corners of the World Wide Web, but try telling him that.
When it's time to go, I grab my necklace and then check the doorknob of Dane's office, making sure he didn't sneak in at some point in the day.
Locked.
I check my phone for the millionth time that day to see if he got my texts. They show as received, but he still hasn't responded.
I just hope he's okay because I know he'd never admit it if he weren't.
***
"I never see you anymore." My sister, Waverly, comes into my room that night and throws herself across my bed. "You're always working or with Cortland."
"It's called being an adult," I say, picking at my nails. I need to paint them again before work tomorrow.
"Cortland's been coming over almost every night this week," she laments.
Though we were spared tonight. He had to help a cousin move into a house. Thank God for small favors.
I lift my gaze in her direction. "You don't like him?"
Please say you don't like him.
She rolls her eyes. "No, it's not that. I mean, he's perfect for you. And dad loves him. Mom too. Everyone really. It'll just be weird when you're married, and you won't be here anymore."
"You're going to college in the fall, right? You don't plan on sticking around?"
"Dad said I could go if I got a scholarship and if I'm on my best behavior the rest of the school year."
"When are you not on your best behavior? You're the golden child. I don't think it's possible for you to be any more perfect than you already are."
She draws her knees up to her chest and rests her chin on top of them. "Try telling Dad that. It seems like no matter what I do, he thinks I can do better. One of these days, I'm going to snap."
"Don't." I place my hand up. "Don't give Dad any reason to do anything extreme. We both know what happened to Libby Conover from the 2nd Ward."
"Libby … ?"
"Remember? Her father thought she got too spirited and married her off to some old geezer in Arizona. She was fresh out of high school. Don't think it can't happen to one of us."
My phone dings in my purse, and I spring for it without hesitation.
"You're on that thing all the time now." Waverly stands up and crosses her arms.
"I've only had it a few days. How can I be on it all the time?" I call out as she leaves. I press the green icon on my screen and only after I read his text do I realize I'm holding my breath and that I smiled the entire time.
SATURDAY CAN'T COME SOON ENOUGH, he says.
If he were my boyfriend, I might reply with one of those cute heart emojis or the one with the red lips. I force the smile off my face though an intense amount of butterflies remain in my belly. I'm certainly not falling in love with Dane, but I am falling in love with the escape. The rush. The thrill.
The build up and excitement and anticipation.
The prospect of freedom.
I type a reply.
DO YOU NEED ME TO DO ANYTHING SPECIAL TOMORROW? WILL YOU BE IN?
A minute later, he responds.
I WON'T BE IN. SENDING A CAR TO PICK YOU UP AT ONE FOR LUNCH AT HARBOR BLEU. WEAR THE BLACK HERVE LEGER DRESS, RED HEELS, GOLD NECKLACE AND NOTHING ELSE. YOU HAVE AN APPOINTMENT AT NINE AT BELLISIMA DAY SPA ON FORREST AVENUE.
The man needs a distraction, and I certainly won't fault him for that.
YES, MASTER. GOODNIGHT.
SEVENTEEN
DANE
Harbor Bleu is a classy establishment, but it's not going to deter me from keeping my hands off Bellamy as soon as I see her. I'd been planning to treat her to a decent lunch all week, even before Uncle Leo passed, and I wasn't about to trash my reservations in lieu of sitting around Golden Oak moping with Beck and Odessa. Uncle Leo wouldn't have liked that. He'd much rather me out getting pussy and celebrating the colorful life that old bastard lived until fucking cancer stole his last fighting breath.
"Right this way, Ms. Miller." The maître-d escorts a stunning blonde in sky-high red stilettos my way. Her hair bounces as she walks, and her breasts peek from the top of the skintight bandage dress that hugs her curves. She glows. Her skin is luminous like that of a woman who's spent all morning at a spa getting waxed, polished, scrubbed, massaged and moisturized.
I stand to greet her, leaning over the small candlelit table to kiss her cheek. She slides into the half-moon booth I've reserved in the back of the restaurant and takes the spot next to me.
"You look beautiful." I reach for the diamond necklace and straighten it. "Thank you for meeting me today."
Not that she had a choice.
"Thank you for the spa appointment," she says, running her fingertips along the length of her bare, soft arm.
"May I offer you a sample? Trimbach Riesling. Two thousand seven." A member of the wait staff approaches us with an open bottle and two pieces of stemware.
Bellamy looks at me, but I'm more focused on the way the server is looking at her. I'll deduct one percent from his tip for each second he feasts on her cleavage.
"Yes, please." I reach beneath the tablecloth and squeeze her knee before inching my way up her inner thighs and way past the hem of her tight dress.
Her chin dips low, and a curtain of blonde wisps hide her face as she squirms. I wait for the server to finish pouring our samples and scram before I push her hair away.
"I want to see your face," I whisper, my fingers aching to be inside her, though not nearly as much as my growing cock right now. "I want to see the way you fight it when I … "
Well, well, well.
I was going to fuck her with my fingers right here over dinner since there's no finer way to enjoy a medium rare filet than sitting across from a beautiful woman with an orgasmic flush.
But she's wearing fucking panties.
I pull my hand away and lean into her, nipping her earlobe between my teeth. "I thought I gave you explicit instructions not to wear anything else besides the dress, the heels, and the necklace."
Her gaze narrows.
"The panties, Angel." I roll my eyes and lean back. "Go to the ladies' room, remove them, and bring them back to me."