Page 10 of King of Desire (Kings of Las Vegas #2)

CHAPTER NINE

Honeyeh

I have never, in my entire life, been poked or prodded as much as I have this evening.

I sit in one of the guest rooms in Triston’s house, which I am now referring to as ground zero.

The benefit starts in an hour and four different stylists have been waxing, plucking, curling, and applying treatments for the last three and a half hours.

Finally, they bring out the dress. I slip off the satin robe I’ve been wearing, setting it to the side. The dress is held by two women so that the fabric, which has been carefully steamed, can be lowered over my head. The stylist is up on a step ladder. It’s a complete Cinderella moment.

The makeup artist gasps as she looks at me. “Even your undergarments are gorgeous,” she gushes. I look down with a nervous laugh. I’ve got on a strapless corset bra with a lacy pair of thong underwear, a garter and thigh-high stockings.

Triston replaced the shoes that were a little too big with a pair that fit perfectly. The heels are only three inches, I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to walk nicely in four.

Which meant the dress needed to be altered…

My head spins as I consider what sort of cost Triston accrued to have me pose as his date in my new administrative duties. It’s crazy.

Then again, I see his point. With me at his side, he needs to be neither attentive, nor even considerate.

The dress is placed over my head, three women making certain the fabric doesn’t wrinkle and my hair isn’t mussed as the silk glides over my body.

Then, one of them zips me in.

“Oh,” Betty, the hair stylist gushes. “You look amazing! You could be in a magazine.”

I turn toward the full-length mirror and gasp at the woman who stares back at me. I barely look like me. Smoky makeup makes my eyes look even bigger, while a blush highlights my natural cheekbones, and deep red lipstick compliments the dress and my natural skin tones.

My hair flows down my back in loose, sexy waves, looking effortless and glamorous all at once.

The dress hugs every curve, making my waist look tiny and the draped fabric on the top giving me extra bust. The slit up the side shows off the shapeliness of my thigh and…

“Wow.” Triston’s masculine rumble pulls my gaze from my own reflection. I turn to see Triston in the doorway, looking breathtakingly dashing in a fitted tuxedo.

“Wow yourself,” I say and then feel my cheeks heat, the blush that is always under the surface in his company instantly coming out.

He gives me a one-sided grin and then strides into the room. “Is she done, ladies?”

“Done,” Betty chirps.

“Done,” the others repeat.

The makeup artist presses a tube of lipstick into my hand. “Like I showed you, just inside the edges of the liner and blend.”

I nod as the four of them scurry toward the door, leaving me and Triston alone.

I draw in a deep breath, the bra digging a bit as I inhale. Note to self, no deep breathing. But as my gaze turns back to my reflection, I have to confess, the result is totally worth it. I’ve never seen myself like this. “I’m not even certain I recognize myself.”

He chuckles. “I recognize you, Honeyeh.”

I don’t know what to say to that, so I don’t answer. Instead, I watch his approach through the mirror, noting a black box under his arm.

The last time he carried something toward me, it was the garment bag with this dress. “What is that?”

A smile curves his lips. “The dress, shoes, and undergarments are yours to keep. A perk. But before I show you what is in the box, I want to warn you that these are only a loan.”

But my eyes grow wider. What could he possibly have in a box that size that would be a loan?

I turn around, the question shining in my eyes as he holds the box out and then snaps open the lid.

A gasp falls from my lips as the light catches a set of diamonds and rubies. A necklace, earrings, and a triple-string bracelet. “You cannot mean for me to wear those.”

“I do,” he answers. “Turn back around.”

“Triston. I could not possibly borrow these, not even for a night. Are those real?” My whole body trembles as I lean a bit closer, inspecting them.

He laughs then. “They are. I have excellent credit with a local jeweler who was kind enough to loan these to me for the evening.”

And then he sets the box down on the dressing table, removing the necklace first. Moving the necklace catches even more light, and I tremble as I carefully lift my hair.

He steps up behind me, close enough that I can feel his body heat, as he places the necklace on my bare skin, his fingertips brushing my neck as he does the clasp.

My entire body responds to his touch, my skin incredibly sensitive as I break out in goose pimples at the light brush of his fingers.

But even his touch can’t distract me from the glittering image of the rubies and diamonds around my neck. I have no idea what a necklace like this might be worth, but my guess is it would pay for a liver transplant. “My goodness,” I whisper, brushing the large center ruby with my middle finger.

“It looks stunning.” And then the necklace is forgotten as his lips brush the bare skin of my collarbone.

I gasp in a breath and he gives me a wolfish smile in the mirror. “Practice.”

“Oh.” That makes sense. I can’t look shocked in front of everyone when he touches me. “We should look natural. Right.”

“We should,” he answers and then he slides his hands down my arms, over my hands. I splay my fingers out, and for a moment, they catch his, our fingers twining together.

And then he releases them, one hand coming to my hip, to pull me back against his body. The moment our bodies touch, an explosion of feeling pulses all through me, making me achy and hot.

But he isn’t done. He cups my jaw and turns my face back toward his, his lips brushing over mine in the kind of light kiss that makes my knees weak. It’s so intimate and so romantic, I feel lightheaded—and I may have forgotten to breathe.

Slowly, he pulls back and my eyes flutter open, meeting his. His look is dark and almost dangerous as his hand splays out on my hip. “We need to get the rest of your jewelry on.”

“Right. Jewelry.” I sound out of breath as I try to shake off the haze that has settled over my brain.

My lipstick has brushed off on his lips and without thinking, I reach up and run my thumb over his lower lip to brush it away.

But before I can finish, he captures my wrist in his hand, kissing the pad of my thumb. His lips open and his tongue licks at my skin. It’s the slightest bit dirty, and the ache between my legs pulses as he drags his teeth along the same path, nibbling at my flesh.

“Triston,” I half groan. We’ve passed practice, I know it. I’d like to drown in this man, let the tide take me away. But I really can’t.

I have to remember my brother, my obligations, and my fears too. I won’t be like my mother. Abandoned by a man and forced into near poverty.

Which is why I pull my thumb away, at least as far as his grip on my wrist will allow.

He raises my hand up and places another kiss on the inside of my wrist, the sensitive skin responding like a traitor to his touch. And then he lowers my wrist, pulling the bracelet from the box, he places the triple strand over my skin and closes the clasp.

Finally, he pulls the earrings from the box, handing them to me. They are a long chain of diamonds with a ruby dangling on each end.

“Honeyeh,” he rumbles close to my ear. “You were made for this life.”

I don’t know about that. And I don’t read anything into the words. I heard Veronica’s warning. And even though I would never behave the way she had, it doesn’t make her wrong. Everyone knows Triston is a serial dater.

I cannot be caught up in a torrid romance with my boss. It’s not the life for me and it would be unfair to Darius if I compromised this job. “I will apply myself to being your doting and considerate date,” I answer back. “Tell me what you need.”

Our eyes lock in the mirror and I can feel the energy rolling off him in waves. Was it my words? The kiss?

“Just smile. Nod. And when I need to conduct business, join the wives. That’s it.”

I draw in a deep breath. “I’m ready.”

He guides me around, placing my hand in his elbow. His eyes hold mine as he starts toward the door. “Don’t worry. You’ll be perfect.”

My fingers tighten on his arm. I know he’s not a man who offers a future, but for tonight, I’m certain he can guide me through this evening.

Is it wrong that this is what I’ve always wanted? A man to hold me up in those moments I feel weak?

It reminds me to be extra careful. I could lose myself in Triston Smith.