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I roll my eyes, but his grin only widens as he gently tips my chin up, locking his gaze with mine. “Spare no expense. You’re the fiancée of a billionaire. Start acting like it.”
I narrow my eyes. “You’re going to regret saying that.”
His lips twitch into a smirk. “I doubt it. I’ll meet you back here in a few hours.”
I hesitate for all of five seconds before plucking the card from his hand. It’s surprisingly heavy, and I can’t help but grin as I slide it into my purse. “You sure about this?”
“Amara.” His tone is dry, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “If you can max it out, I’ll be impressed.”
Challenge accepted.
Chapter twenty-six
Nicholas
The opening of the newest Blackwood Hotel location in Los Angeles is nothing short of a spectacle. The lobby drips with luxury. Polished marble floors gleaming like liquid gold, chandeliers so massive they’re practically threatening the city’s power grid.
There’s champagne fizzing in crystal glasses, murmured gossip disguised as polite conversation, and bursts of fake laughter.
And yet, I’m stuck by the entrance, checking my damn watch for the fifth time in three minutes, feeling like the human embodiment of a waiting room. It’s been three hours since I told Amara to go out and buy a dress, and she’s still not here.
I check my phone again like a lovesick puppy, hoping for a text, a call,something. Instead, I’m met with radio silence. For a man used to being in control, this waiting—this not knowing—is maddening. I swear I’m about to lose my mind when the soundof soft heels clicking against marble makes my head snap up and my chest tighten.
Holy. Fucking. Hell.
The conversation, the music, even the obnoxious sparkle of the chandeliers… It all becomes background noise.
My throat goes dry, and my pulse skips as my eyes trace her. Her orange hair is styled in loose waves that cascade over her shoulders, and the dress she’s wearing…Christ, that dress. It should be illegal. Deep crimson velvet that hugs every curve of her body, clinging to her soft, round belly that has my throat going dry. The neckline dips low enough to tease, the fabric clinging to her full bust before tapering in at her waist and flowing over her wide hips.
She stops a few feet away, her green eyes locking onto mine. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Hi.” Her voice is soft and uncertain as her hands smooth down the sides of her dress. “What do you think?”
What do I think? I think I’ve forgotten how to speak. I think she’s about to single-handedly raise my blood pressure. But all I manage is a rough swipe of my hand over my mouth, my vocabulary wiped clean.
I’m aware that I’m staring, that I probably look like a complete idiot, but I can’t stop. My gaze drags down the length of her body and back up again, taking in every detail.
“You hate it, don’t you?” she asks, her smile faltering. Her hands hover near her sides, fidgeting slightly. “I can change if—”
“Shut the fuck up,” I cut her off, closing the distance between us in two strides. My hand hooks around her waist, and before she can finish her thought, I claim her mouth in a kiss that makes her gasp against me.
Her lips are soft and warm, her body going rigid with surprise before she melts into me, her hands gripping the lapels of my tuxedo. I know I’m smudging her lipstick, but I don’t care. Letthe whole damn room see. Let them know she’smine. The kiss is hungry, desperate, and I pour everything I can’t say into it—my frustration, my awe, my goddamn helplessness when it comes to this woman.
When I finally pull back, her lips are kiss-swollen and smudged with a shade of lipstick I now have all over my mouth. Her eyes are wide, her cheeks flushed a deep pink that has nothing to do with her makeup.
“I’ll take that as you like it,” she teases breathlessly, her lips curving into a small smile.
“Like it?” I shake my head, my hands sliding possessively over her hips. “Baby, I fucking love it.”
Her hands press flat against my chest, toying with my bow tie as her lips curve into a smirk. “I’m glad you think so because I did exactly what you said. I bought a very expensive dress.”
A laugh rumbles out of me as I lean in and kiss her again, my grip tightening on her hips. “I saw. Two-hundred-thousand?” I shake my head, still chuckling. “What the hell did you spend that on?”
She shrugs, completely unapologetic. “You said ‘spare no expense.’ So, I didn’t. I got a designer dress, and two more, matching shoes, a bag, makeup, jewelry… and of course, Pumpkin needed a new cat tree.”
I groan, because of course she couldn’t resist spoiling that little attention thief. “She’s spoiled enough,” I grumble.
Her laugh bubbles up, soft and teasing. “Pumpkin’s a sweetheart. You’re just jealous she cuddles me first.”
I grumble, even though we both know the fluffy demon won this round.