Page 61 of I'm sorry, Princess

Could I have done more? If I’d tried harder, could I have gotten something useful out of him?

But no, let’s be honest. I wasn’t trying to help Ian. I wasn’t thinking about evidence or cases. I was too busy thinking about his body, about the way he looked at me, about the way his touch set my skin on fire.

I was too busy thinking about his dick.

The realization crashes into me, cold and brutal.

I’m such an idiot.

“I had a meeting with him at 4 p.m.,” I say, my voice edged with irritation. “I’m guessing that’s cancelled? The least they could’ve done was let me know so I wouldn’t show up and look stupid.”

Ian glances at me, his expression softening slightly. “Yeah, I think they emailed you,” he replies, checking his phone again. “But you’ll probably still need to go in and give your report about him, you were his psychologist for the longest.”

“Mhm. Right. Okay,” I mutter, distracted. “I’ll head to the office now. Are you coming?”

He shakes his head, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “Not today,” he says, leaning in to press a quick kiss to my cheek before turning to leave.

I grab my coffee and head straight to the office. The ride is a blur, my mind stuck in an endless loop of Ian’s words. By the time I arrive, Martha is already waiting for me, her usual efficient self.

I hand her my report on Lorenzo, feeling a strange pang of discomfort as she takes it. She skims it brieflybefore giving me a tight-lipped smile. “Your next client will be emailed to you on Monday,” she informs me, already moving on to her next task. “Since it’s Friday afternoon, take the weekend to rest.”

Rest.

The word feels foreign. My mind is too restless, too full of Ian’s revelations: Italian mafia. Murderer. Gun trafficking. Illegal fights. Lorenzo is dangerous, no doubt about it, but why can’t I stop thinking about him?

He doesn’t mean anything to me. We’re not… anything.

But his voice, his touch, the way he looked at me, it all lingers, refusing to let go.

I shake the thoughts away and pull out my phone. What I need right now is a distraction.

“Fancy a girls’ night, my lovely?” I ask Sienna as soon as she picks up, my voice bright but pleading. A girls’ night is exactly what I need. After everything, I need to drink until the thoughts dissolve.

“I’m coming to pick you up at 10 p.m.,” she chirps back, her tone full of her usual energy. “Muuuaaahhh!”

She hangs up before I can respond, leaving me smiling despite myself. God, I love her. Sienna is the sister I never had, the one person who always knows how to pull me out of my head.

Tonight is exactly what I need.

Chapter Seventeen

Serena

I’m done with my makeup, and tonight, I’m an angel, or at least, I look the part.

I’ve gone soft and sweet with my choices. My eyes are dressed in warm nude shades with just a touch of glitter to catch the light, and a thin line of eyeliner adds a hint of definition without overwhelming the look. Highlighter gleams on my cheekbones, catching every angle, while a soft pink blush gives my cheeks that perfect innocent flush.

And my lips? Thank God for my lips. They’re painted in a warm pink lipstick that pulls everything together, the final touch that says, “I’m just a girl.”

But let’s not forget the dress.

My dress, short and tight, is anything but innocent. It clings to my curves in all the right places, unapologetically highlighting the assets I know men would kill for. My ass?It’s a showstopper, and tonight, I’m proud of it. My B-cup breasts, while not overly generous, are perfectly on display, teasing just enough to make them look twice.

I’m a little devil dressed as an angel, and the irony is delicious.

And, of course, the dress is white, pure, pristine, and oh so deceptive.

I leave my hair down, soft curls cascading over my shoulders, their loose, effortless bounce adding to the illusion of innocence. At the back, a delicate ribbon ties it all together, matching my soft pink heels perfectly.