Page 21 of Accidentally Mine

Roselynn

O n the Orange Line for what felt like the thousandth time that week, I hitched the latest bag of my aunt’s requests onto my shoulder and waited for my stop.

It wasn’t a fun commute—taking the better part of an hour, since I had to take the Red Line to Alewife, switch to the Orange Line at Downtown Crossing, and then take the bus from Sullivan Square—but at least it beat that damn Buick Century, the car I was pretty convinced the devil drove.

I’d nearly gotten into a head-on collision three times while trying to drive it, that first day alone. Even if you knew your way around Boston, driving was pretty much hit or miss. But today was Saturday, which meant I didn’t have to dodge the going-to-work crowd.

Two days after my aunt was admitted into the hospital, she was finally being set up at a rehab facility.

I’d taken a tour of it the day prior, and Brent was right—it was impressive.

I had no doubt that she’d receive excellent care, especially since the way all the neurologists had been fawning over him, Brent’s opinion carried weight. Nobody wanted to disappoint him.

But I hadn’t even seen him since Ernest picked him up at the hospital the day my aunt had her stroke.

He’d been so sweet, not only to me but to my aunt, buying her flowers, assuring she would receive the best care possible.

When he left, I thought he might try…something.

A kiss on the cheek, at least. Instead, he just told me to take care and slid into the back of the car.

And I hadn’t heard from him since.

Definitely a sad-trumpets ending compared to what I was thinking would happen. But he’d left the ball in my court. He knew the highpoints of what I’d been through, and he’d backed off. He’d left me the control. It was up to me to make the move.

Which I was determined not to do.

It was probably for the best.

If only my heart would go along with my head. It had this weird ache in it, like I’d missed out on something.

That wasn’t my fault, though.

Well, it was a little bit my fault.

I’d kept myself busy over the past few days.

I’d been running around all of Boston, trying to figure out how we were going to handle Reece Associates going forward, arranging for the cleanup and sale of my father’s house, making sure my aunt’s affairs were in order.

Everything seemed to take twice as long as it should’ve because I was constantly looking over my shoulder, afraid I was being followed.

About half a dozen times, I actually got off at different T stations and took circuitous routes to where I was going, just because someone looked suspicious and I thought they might be one of Anthony’s henchmen.

So, by the time I got to my aunt’s new bedroom in the rehab facility, my nerves were completely shot. I walked in, and the first thing I saw was a huge bouquet of white roses. My aunt was sitting up in bed, watching television. “Secret admirer?” I asked, sniffing one of them.

“Yes. This old broad’s still got it.” She threw the remote on the bed beside her and frowned. “There’s nothing good on this television.”

“Hmmm. Sorry they don’t supply soft-porn here,” I said thoughtfully, looking for a card between the stems. I found none. “Wow. Whoever it is, he must really like you. No card?”

“He delivered it in person,” she said with a mysterious air in her voice.

I looked up at her. “Who?”

Just then, the door opened and Brent stepped in. He took my breath away. Brown hair in submission now, slicked back severely, it looked darker, almost black. He was clean shaven and wore that brooding, intense expression on his face that made me feel like I was burning up inside.

He radiated power as he strode toward me, his eyes drinking me in. He was wearing a pitch-black suit that almost matched the color of his hair, hugging his body in all the right places. Still, somehow, he looked hotter than I remembered.

I stood there, mouth agog, trying to think of something to say. Anything. But my mind was a total blank. The only words that would come to mind were, kiss me .

“Hello, Roselynn,” he said in that deep, growly voice. He was just saying hi, and it felt like a command, full of authority. He leaned over and brushed his lips across my cheek in the briefest of kisses. He smelled delicious.

I squeaked out a submissive hello.

“You should have some fun,” Marie said in a lilting, playful way. “The two of you. Alone.”

“I know what I said, about you having the control,” he said, daring me with those dark eyes of his. “And you still do. Feel free to tell me to go.”

Like I could. I wanted to do the opposite. I wanted to grab him and pull him into the bathroom for some…fun. It was then that I saw that he was holding a box under his arm.

I leaned over and whispered under my breath to my aunt, “Do you think it’s wise? Someone might see us.”

She nodded. “You’re twenty-three, doll. You can’t live your whole life in a box. Isn’t that what your dad always said? Take a chance.” She grinned. “Besides, he makes one hell of a bodyguard.”

I motioned to the box. It was from Daniela Corte, a designer whose dresses I would never be able to afford in my wildest dreams. He lifted the lid. “Your aunt helped with the sizing. I chose the style.”

I reached in and picked up the spaghetti straps of a slinky red chiffon dress smattered with tiny white polka dots.

It had a daring plunging neckline and a ruffled slit on the skirt that would leave little to the imagination.

I stared at it, speechless. This was the dress he liked, the kind he thought would look good on me.

Clearly, he thought I was a lot sexier than I actually was.

“All right?” he said, his voice even. “There’s no dress code where we’re going, but I think you’ll be more comfortable in this.”

“Where we’re going?” I asked. That was kind of presumptuous. I hadn’t agreed.

Oh, who was I kidding? My body had already agreed, judging from all the goose bumps popping out over my skin. In fact, I was freaking thrilled to see him again. So thrilled I wanted to jump into his arms.

“L’Espalier,” he said. Just like that, with no flourish whatsoever. As one would say McDonald’s.

My eyes bugged out. I couldn’t even walk on the sidewalk outside that place without feeling poor.

Anthony loved throwing his money around, but not with me in tow.

He was happy keeping me home, away from the eyes of other men.

I remembered with a shudder the black eye I’d gotten the one time I’d gone to Starbucks with him and an overeager barista had written Gorgeous on my cup instead of my name.

That was the last time we’d gone out in public together.

“Who are you trying to impress?” I managed, tingles swirling just beneath my skin.

“You, doll,” Auntie said with a laugh. “And it’s working.”

Hell yes, it was.

I dreamily gazed at the dress. There were two strappy heels lying in the box under it. It felt wrong to put it on. I hadn’t showered or shaved, and I felt the urge to do a pit sniff. I grimaced as I looked down at my ripped jeans and t-shirt.

“Go use my shower,” my aunt said, reading my mind. “Just hurry up or you’ll miss the reservation.”

“But…I just got here,” I protested weakly. “I can’t just leave you alone.”

“Ernest is coming to keep her company,” Brent said, checking his watch. “He should be here in a few.”

Ernest? Was he serious? Seemed like they’d thought of everything, having whole conversations behind my back. I had to admit, though, I wasn’t exactly upset about it. After all I’d been through over the past few days, a night of just relaxing, having a good dinner, some wine. It sounded like heaven.

Not to mention, I’d be accompanied by a man who made my toes curl.

“All right,” I said, picking up the dress and heading into the bathroom.

I took a shower, getting myself cleaned up as best as I could in the strange bathroom.

I slipped on the dress, realizing I couldn’t wear a bra with it, and…

holy cleavage. It bared most of my back too, with straps crisscrossing every which way.

The ruffled slit went nearly to my upper thigh.

I’d never worn anything like this before. I felt exposed, but also sexy.

I gathered my damp hair up on my head and left a few loose tendrils hanging down at my temples. I only had pink lip-gloss in my pocket, so that was all the makeup I wore. Stepping into the high heels, I checked myself in the full-length mirror.

Whoa. I barely recognized myself.

I stepped out and Brent’s eyes immediately found mine, then went lower. He rocked back on his heels. For the first time, I thought I’d knocked a man speechless.

“Ah…” he said, stroking his chin. “That’s gorgeous on you.”

I smiled, feeling warm all the way down to my toes.

He bridged the distance between us as his eyes swept over me. Then he took my hand and said in a very low rumble, “What I mean to say is, you’re gorgeous.”

No one had ever told me that so sincerely, so intensely. I could barely breathe.

“See? I told you my girl cleans up well,” my aunt called. “Nice frock.”

I fingered the silky material. It was quickly becoming my favorite wardrobe piece, ever. Soft and flowy and feminine. I wondered if I could manage to never have to take it off, or if I could wear it until I died. I felt like Cinderella, dancing around in her new—red—glass slippers.

I fussed around my aunt for the next few minutes, asking if she’d taken her medication and eaten and whether she was feeling okay, until Ernest showed up, carrying a shopping bag of take-out trays from the Back Bay Bistro and a bottle of red wine. Marie’s eyes lit up like Christmas.

“Remove this woman from my presence,” my aunt said to Brent, pointing at me. “She’s starting to get on my nerves.”

I made a face at her.

Brent extended his elbow to me, and I took it, thinking I’d probably make some faux pas and embarrass him at least once tonight. I’d never, ever been on a fancy date with a man before.