Page 23 of Deceptive Desires

“Here’s a picture of her.” I show him one I took when I was watching her through the yoga studio window. I cropped it so he could only see her face and not the skintight, sinful outfit she’s wearing or her flexible pose. “I’ll text it to you. Make sure the bouncers and security know she’s mine. And make sure they know no VIP treatment for us. Tonight, I’m just a customer.”

He nods gruffly then turns to inform the men.

I survey the room one last time to ensure everything is how it should be.

I go back to my car and head to my penthouse. I need to get ready before I go to her place. I plan on following the girls to make sure they get here safely.

Chapter 15

Cecilia

I sigh as I throw another dress on my bed. I look at the pile forming and want to pull my hair out.

Half my closet sits on my bed, but nothing is speaking to me.

I can’t decide on what to wear tonight.

Clubs aren’t really my scene. They don’t play music I like, and I don’t typically drink. Drunk people put Gracie on edge, and where there’s one of us, there’s typically the other.

But Leo wanted to celebrate his twenty-fourth birthday at the club, so that’s what we’re doing.

He wanted to go to one on the other side of town, near an amazing Italian restaurant, but Gracie demanded we go to one within walking distance from the T. It made sense, so Leo went with it.

He tries to avoid fighting with Gracie. She, on the other hand, does not. She’ll glare at him and rile him anytime he gets on her nerves. Which is every time she sees him.

I’ve never been able to figure out why she dislikes him so much. He’s a nice guy, always kind to me. All she’s ever said is she has a gut feeling about him, and that she always trusts her gut.

Gracie has been wary of men as long as I’ve known her. She struggles to trust in general, but even more with men. She never shared her story with me, but I know it must be the effect of trauma. I respect her enough to never pry and to go along with what she wants. If she ever wants to leave somewhere or doesn’t want to be around someone, I trust her. Even if it doesn’t make sense to me.

I know I can be gullible and naïve, but I like being this way. I like seeing the world in a positive light. I like believing the good in people.

It breaks my heart that Gracie doesn’t see the world how I do, but maybe it’s for the best. One of us needs to be on the lookout for danger.

The only person I’ve fought her on is Leo. I’d known him for months before I’d met Gracie. We were already close by the time Gracie and I became friends. She only confided in me that she wasn’t comfortable around Leo when she asked if he couldn’t spend the night at the apartment.

We already had a No Men Overnight Rule, but Leo thought he was the exception. Gracie pulled me aside one night when he got too drunk and started setting up a pillow on the couch to ask if it was okay if he didn’t stay the night. She even offered to take the blame and be the one to kick him out.

I agreed, and the next morning she told me she’s always had a bad feeling about him. She hasn’t tried to hide it since.

I told her she didn’t have to come tonight, but she insisted. She doesn’t love me being around him alone, especially not when drinking is involved.

“Oh my God! Is your entire wardrobe on your bed?” Gracie screeches from my doorway.

I look at her hopelessly. “I don’t have anything to wear.”

“You can borrow something from my closet,” she offers.

I look at her all-black clubbing outfit. The same black as her entire closet. As opposed to my earth toned closet which doesn’t consist of a single article of black.

A black mock neck, sleeveless shirt tucked into a black mini skirt with a chunky black belt. Ripped tights span from the hem of the skirt into her glossy black Doc Martin boots. Her black, leather bomber jacket hangs off her shoulders, even though it’ll be hot in the club.

“No, thank you. You know black isn’t my thing. Would you mind helping me pick something?” I refuse her offer gently, even though I know I won’t offend her.

“Already on it. Where’s that wrap skirt you have? The long cream one?” she asks, already heading to my closet.

“It’s still in there. It’s practically see-through,” I explain why it’s not a contender. My leg silhouettes show through the bottom.

“Exactly,” she says with a wicked grin. “Now get your fitted, green lace blouse with the flare sleeves.”