Page 43

ALLURE

I couldn’t get his mama off my mind.

Even with pins between my lips, fabric draped over my arms, and sketches scattered like confetti across the table, my thoughts kept tiptoeing back to that hospital room.

To the way Riot’s shoulders sank like the weight of the world had finally caught up to him.

To that flicker of fear in his eyes he tried to hide behind clenched teeth and that fake calm he always wore like armor.

Tessa might’ve looked at me like I tracked dirt on her damn rug every time I walked in a room, but I wouldn’t wish that kind of fear on nobody.

I know what it feels like when life snatches the control right out your hands and dares you to do something about it.

When someone you love is slipping and you gotta stand there and watch.

She looked frail now. Like time had drained her.

Her skin? Pale. Her words? Floaty and frayed like old lace.

And even though part of me was still side-eyeing her for all the slick things she said before, the deeper part of me just felt…

sad. For her. For Riot. For whatever mess they had between them that no apology or clock could clean up.

I stabbed a pin into the dress form like it owed me money and hissed when it bit back.

"You good?" a girl across the table asked, eyebrows raised as she clocked my bleeding finger.

"Yeah, I’m straight," I said, popping my finger in my mouth. "Just in my head too much."

Too much was right.

I was thinking about my parents and the whole ordeal with Boaz.

I knew that was still a loose end that needed to be clipped.

And I had to get down to what happened to my father and why my mother was hiding something about him from me.

And then there was Riot. It was stuck on last night.

On the way he held me like I was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

My phone buzzed, and I grabbed it without thinking.

Sloane: Still good for this afternoon? Ready to find your dress for the open house?

A slow smile crept across my lips, shaking off some of the heaviness in my chest.

Me: Absolutely. I need something unforgettable.

Because this weekend?

I wasn’t pulling up like some girl in the background. I needed to look drop dead gorgeous on his arm. I had considered designing something for myself but time was running out and I was still a bit rusty.

After a class, I took an Uber Black towards Sloane. I liked her and I could tell she was a well of wisdom. There were a few things I wanted to talk to her about. I wanted a therapist’s opinion on something that’s been on my mind.

As much as I cared for Riot, I was feeling bad about not finding my own way. He was there to pick up the pieces but I’ve never got to explore this life for myself. I didn’t want to lose him but I needed to be able to do something for myself.

By the time I slid into the booth at Bluestone Lane, Sloane was already there, sipping a matcha with her phone flipped face-down.

She looked radiant in that effortless kind of way. Her bone structure doing the heavy lifting, silk blouse draped just right, gold hoops catching every bit of sunlight streaming through the café window. The kind of woman who looked expensive even when she was dressed down.

“Sorry I’m late,” I said. “Class ran over and my brain’s been stuck in a blender all day.”

Sloane smiled, warm and real. “No worries. I had to make a few calls anyway.”

That settled something in my chest.

I settled into the plush leather bench across from her. Then the waiter came over and I ordered a chai latte.

“So,” she said, chin resting on her hand. “Are we shopping for seduction, sophistication, or straight-up slay?”

I laughed. “Honestly? All three. I need to look like the woman he’d burn down cities for.”

Sloane raised a brow. “Trust me, you already do.”

“Thanks. How about you?”

“I’m thinking all three too. I’ve been working so hard and planning this wedding.

Creed and I haven’t had a date in a couple of months.

I’m looking forward to the open house. I’m really proud about what Riot has done with the place.

I remember when he first saw it. He knew that he wanted it.

And I knew that I wanted Creed and I to get married there. ”

“That’s beautiful. He seems to always knows what he wants…”

I paused, twisting the edge of my napkin between my fingers.

“Uh oh. I detect something there. What was that about?” She asked about my nervousness.

“I love him but lately, I’m not completely sure of what I want.”

She didn’t flinch. Just leaned back like she’d heard this before. Probably from half the clients she coached through emotional tsunamis every week.

“I went from being locked in a house by one man, to being protected and claimed by another. Riot’s nothing like Boaz. But still…” I shrugged. “I haven’t had time to figure out who I am outside of being wanted.”

Sloane’s eyes softened. “You want sovereignty.”

“Exactly,” I whispered, relieved she got it.

“You want to stand in the room beside him, not behind him.”

I nodded. “And I do. I want him. But I also want to choose him—not just fall into him like he’s the only safe place I’ve ever known. Because he is that. But I want to feel whole, too.”

She smiled again, something proud hiding behind it. “I wish more women said that out loud. Riot’s intense. The King men—they come on hard, and they don’t let up once they’ve decided you’re theirs.”

“I noticed,” I smirked.

Sloane tilted her head, studying me for a beat. “Does he know how you feel?”

“I haven’t told him everything. I didn’t want to seem ungrateful… especially with everything going on. His mom, the open house, the danger we’re still in?—”

She held up a hand gently. “Then don’t rush it. Love doesn’t mean rushing past yourself. You can honor what you feel and still give yourself room to breathe.”

“I just don’t want him to think I’m pulling away.”

“You’re not,” she said. “You’re grounding. That’s different. Communicate your needs. But you’re right to wait. You’re still in survival mode. Your nervous system is healing. You’re still remembering what peace feels like. Let that settle first. Let safety become your baseline.”

My eyes stung a little at that. She had a way of seeing the things I hadn’t even said out loud.

“Thanks for not making me feel like a mess.”

“You’re not a mess, Allure,” she said. “You’re just waking up from a nightmare.”

We finished our drinks and headed to SoHo to try on dresses.

It was the most fun I’d had in a long time.

We hit up boutiques with champagne flutes and moody lighting, flipping through gowns like we were choosing love spells.

The right dress could bewitch a man. Although I knew I already had him in the palm of my hand.

I tried on a deep purple satin dress with a dangerously low back that made Sloane fan herself like we were in church. Then a deep emerald one that clung to me like a secret.

But it was the final dress—a soft peach silk that hugged my waist, dipped low at the chest, and flared at the bottom like fire licking the ground—that made us both go quiet when I stepped out.

Sloane’s eyes widened. “That’s the one.”

I looked at myself in the mirror, really looked. In that moment I knew I’d show up to that open house on Riot King’s arm not just as the girl he saved, but as the woman who could save herself.