Wrong (A Bad Boy Romance)(33)

Reluctant, but knowing I don’t have much choice, I get out of the bed, pulling a sheet along with me and wrapping myself in it. Nick shakes his head a little, disapproving, but doesn’t make me take it off. “C’mon,” he says, and leads me out of his bedroom and to a room across the hall.

I go in when he gestures for me to precede him. It’s a nice bedroom, smaller than Nick’s room, which we just left, but it’s got a queen-size bed, what looks like a walk-in closet, and a big window that looks out over the city.

“This will be your room,” Nick tells me. “You can sleep here when I don’t need you in my room.”

I nod. It’s nice he wants me to have my own space, but… “Isn’t that a little weird? I mean, if we’re going to get married or whatever?”

“I figure it’ll take some time for us to get used to each other. If you have your own room, you can hide out when you need to be alone.”

Crossing the room, I take a seat on the bed. “That’s nice. Thank you.”

“Of course. Now…” He heads for the closet door. “I needed to get you something for tonight, so I went ahead and picked up some other things, too. I’ll take you out shopping later, so you can get whatever I forgot, or replace anything I got that you don’t like. C’mon.”

I get up, holding the sheet tight, and join him by the closet. It’s deep and big enough it could almost fit another bed. It’s looking a little sparse at the moment, but there are clothes hanging here and there and shoes in the shoe racks along the floor. I see two dresses, one of which is the one I wore yesterday. The other is bright red. There are also several shirts, a couple pairs of jeans, and two cardigans.

“That should get you started,” Nick tells me. “For tonight, I’d like you to wear the red dress.”

I nod. “What about underwear? Socks? That kind of thing?”

“There’s some in the chest of drawers. I didn’t get very many—I wanted to be sure I got the right size.”

“Thank you.” I actually mean it. There are so many ways he could have gone about this. This almost feels…homey. I can live with it. At least so far. “I’ll go ahead and get dressed, then.”

“Good. Let me know if anything doesn’t fit right.” He comes to me and takes my shoulders in his hands, kissing me gently. “I’ll be downstairs.”

He leaves, closing the door behind him. I go to take the red dress down from its spot in the closet. It’s similar to the dress I wore to my birthday party, but a bit more daring, the neckline plunging nearly to the waist. I slide carefully into it, adjusting as I go. It’s body hugging and sleek and, to my surprise, it’s exactly the right size.

Settled in the dress, I take a long look at myself in the full-length mirror on the back of the closet door. I look good, I have to admit, but at the same time I don’t want to leave the house in this. Because I can tell it’s all part of Nick’s agenda.

He wants us to be noticed.

And we are, from about five seconds after we walk in the front door of Lloyd’s. Nick hands a few bills to the maître d’, and we’re led to a table that’s far too centrally located for my tastes. There’s no way anybody will overlook us, here smack in the middle of the dining room, me in my bright-red dress and Nick smirking like he’s the cat that ate all the canaries.

I can feel attention shifting to us almost before we get seated. I stare fixedly at the menu, not daring to look up to see who might be watching, not even daring to look up at Nick.

Nick pulls the top of my menu down with one finger, smiling at me. “Don’t worry, Sarah. It’ll be all right. Trust me.”

Right. Trust him. What the hell was I thinking, letting him talk me into this craziness? I slide my eyes sidelong and see a couple of guys I’ve seen before at Sal’s place. They’re muttering to each other, then one of them pulls his phone out and starts poking buttons. It’s only a matter of time before everybody knows.

Including Sal.

“Do you know what you want?” Nick asks, pulling my attention back to him. “Or would you like me to order for both of us?”

I can barely see the words on the menu, I’m getting so worked up. I feel like I’m starting to hyperventilate. “You can pick.”

“All right, then. Steak or fish?”

“Fish.” I don’t think I could stomach a steak right now. I’m not even sure I can manage fish.

The waiter joins us, and Nick orders wine and some kind of appetizer. I’m not really listening. Every inch of my skin feels like it’s just waiting for Sal to walk in the door. I’m queasy, bile burning at the back of my throat. The slightest movement anywhere near the door makes adrenaline soak through me.