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His hiss when he reaches the flirty neckline of the gown makes me wet. I’ve never heard a more carnal noise, and I paid careful attention to every moan he released when he stuffed his fingers deep inside me.
Lust hangs heavy in the air when Ark returns his eyes to my face. His hooded watch infuses the stuffy space with a seductive mix of pheromones and has me fighting not to squirm.
Thank goodness the full length of the dress’s skirt can hide the press of my thighs. They’re flattened together and pulsating. That’s how burning with need I am. I’m tiptoeing on a tightrope from nothing but a stare.
Imagine how explosive the fireworks would be if he touched me again.
When Riley coughs, reminding Ark and me that we’re not the only two people in the world, a touch of shyness impinges on my cheeks.
“You look amazing, Mara,” Ark says.
I open my mouth to issue a similar compliment. He is dressed similarly to the afternoon he drove Tillie and me home. His dress shirt and suit are both black, but the lightness of his tie makes his outfit more powerful than a funeralgoer. But before a word can seep from my lips, the man of the hour’s arrival is sensed by the woman he is here for.
Veronika’s voice pierces my ears when she shouts Ark’s name. She uses his full name, and despite her naturally high pitch, it rolls out of her mouth as if she is in the middle of ecstasy.
The hem of the dress she’s trying on isn’t close to decent, but jealousy never surfaces since Ark’s eyes don’t float down her body.
His top lip furls at one side, and his breathing comes out in a hurry.
His reply mimics Riley’s to a T when she realizes the fashion faux pas Veronika is making with one of Wilfred’s most iconic pieces.
“That’s not how you’re meant to wear that gown.” Perfume and another smell I can’t quite describe fluffs up when she makes a beeline for Veronika, who suddenly looks panicked. “You’re wearing it upside down. The hem is beaded, not the bust.”
Ark and I stand shoulder to shoulder for several minutes, watching Riley tear Veronika to shreds. I kind of feel bad for Veronika until Ark says, “Designers.” Histskadds to the spasms in my pussy. “You’d swear they only create masterpieces for themselves.”
It takes me a few seconds to click on to what he is saying. When I do, I’m shocked.
Riley is Wilfred Iwona.
That’s why she didn’t care if I ruined her gown. It is hers to do with as she pleases.
“Does Veronika kn-know Riley is Wilfred?” I ask Ark, too curious not to snoop.
I feel his eyes on me, hot and heavy and floating over my face, before his breath tickles my ear. “No. Riley likes to keep her pseudonym separate.” A touch of a smile graces his lips, and it makes me hot. “When rumors started circulating that she wascopycatting Wilfred’s style, she placed an ad in a local inquirer announcing herself as Wilfred’s newest understudy. Nobody has questioned her since.”
“Because she’s young,” I say before I can stop myself. “People assume anyone under the age of twenty-five is only good at m-making coffee and designing apps.” A snippet of bitchiness lowers my tone. “And cleaning up after them.”
With all ofWilfred’s team assisting with the near catastrophe Veronika has caused a priceless gown, I shift on my feet to face Ark. I plan to ask him to lower the zipper I can’t reach in the back of the dress, but I take a handful of seconds to admire a bone structure too complex for the world’s best sculptor to replicate.
Ark is a beautiful man. It is impossible not to stare. His lips are plump, his nose is perfectly straight, and his eyes are so intensely imposing I swear they can see through to a person’s soul.
I’m appalled by my behavior when my stalk is busted. Ark doesn’t seem to mind. He only caught my stare because his eyes were conducting their own lengthy gawk of my face.
It is an effort to reel in my shame that I am lusting over a man above my league, but I give it my best shot. I push off my feet and head deep into the underbelly of the boutique while tugging on the zipper in the back of the dress.
“I sh-should get changed. Darius will be here shortly,” I say while recalling the new schedule Rafael handed me the morning of my inauguration.
Despite Mrs. Orlov’s numerous reminders over the past week that I am a member of Ark’s cleaning team, not his private life, there isn’t a single cleaning task on my new schedule.
I sneak in a handful of tasks when no one is looking, but for the most part, I’ve spent my week twiddling my thumbs and chaperoning Veronika to and from appointments.
The remembrance that I am Veronika’s equivalent of a lap dog should lower the excitement that slicks my skin when Ark senses my struggle with the zipper.
Regretfully, it doesn’t.
My new schedule has kept me off Mrs. Orlov’s radar long enough only to catch the occasional berate. It would be ten times worse if I were stuck in the apartment with her day in and day out, and I can’t help but wonder if that was Ark’s plan when he designed my new schedule.
“Let me.”