Page 26 of Shamelessly Loyal
It was a calculated risk, but he just shook his head. Good. I took my cosmetics bag and the dress into the huge bathroom. I didn’t linger under the shower, despite the luxurious appointments to the room.
I was ready in nineteen minutes, yet I took the time to inspect my appearance in the mirror. Anyone who really knew me would recognize me, but they’d have to know me well. Between the dress and the hairstyle, I was completely outside the bounds of my typical fashion.
When I opened the bathroom doors, I found Pretty Boy standing in the sitting room with a glass tumbler in his hand and dressed like James Bond in his tuxedo. Granted, the bow tie just hung loose, but he looked roguish as hell.
Whoever said the suit didn’t make the man had never seen Pretty Boy in one. He was doing all kinds of sinful things to my thoughts on tuxedos.
His expression as I walked toward him with the loose red skirt flowing around my legs, offering the peek-a-boo effect to each of them through the various slits, was definitely a heady experience.
Heat burned in his eyes and I swore I could feel the flames licking me up. The bodice had a daring V that cut all the way to my navel. The silken fabric glided over my nipples like a caress, and the fabric tape would keep everything in place.
I felt beautiful when I put the dress on, so the desire flooding his expression was intoxicating in its own right.
“No,” he said abruptly. The want vied with something far more raw and furious. “You are not whoring yourself out for this.”
Hand on my hip, I snorted. “Don’t flatter yourself, Pretty Boy. I'm window dressing. If they are all too busy imagining me out of this dress—like you are right now—they won’t be watching you or how you’re playing. Get your head in the game and take me to dinner. It’s time to put on a show.”
As I’d said, I knew how this game was played and I’d mastered a lot of moves over the years. This one? This was actually the easiest. Show the wealthy, the privileged, and the depraved a body all dressed up in an outfit that begged to be taken off and they were all going to be looking where we wanted them to be.
“Shall we?”
ChapterEight
MILO
Ihated the dress the minute she walked out in it. The silk draped her like it had been painted on. At the same time, I wasn’t sure even Rome’s artistic talent could have done Mayhem justice. She looked like something out of the sexiest fairytale I could imagine.
Not Cinderella, because she certainly didn’t need to find a prince or be rescued. No, she was like the good version of the Evil Queen or maybe the good witch. Either way, I wanted her out of the dress and not going down to a roomful of strangers who would admire her glorious curves.
Her walk across the room treated me to a sensuous promise of that silk gliding over her skin. How she managed to keep the strips over her breasts without even a hint of peek-a-boo killed and thrilled me.
"Come on, Pretty Boy,” she invited, holding out one beautifully manicured hand. “Let’s go find your guy.”
Irritation vied with anticipation to scrape along the inside of my skin. “He’s notmyguy.” While not quite a snap, it came out a snarl.
“Yes, dear,” she murmured, tapping my hand. “Give me your arm.”
“Why?” Everything about this irked me. I did not want her going out looking so fucking edible. That dress begged to be peeled off, and I was going to be beating a lot of assholes senseless if they looked at her the wrong way.
“Okay,” she said, lowering her arm and planting that offered hand on her hip. “Let’s get this out of the way, Pretty Boy. You said finding this man was important. You didn’t want to pull O’Connell from getting Em—a move I respect—so you need to do this yourself. We’re here, like it or not, we’re here. If your lead is right, then you get a chance to look at this person you’ve been hunting or who has been hunting you.”
Reasonable as she made it sound, I didn’t like usingher.
“Now, currently, you’re wrestling with the moralistic part of your conscience. Congratulations on still possessing that, by the way. But we’re here. Both of us. I have every intention of helping you, and you can use my help. And if it turns out to be nothing, that the lead was wrong—well, what’s the worst that happens, Pretty Boy? You spend an evening playing with me?”
Despite seeming to suggest the asking of a question, there was something far more playful that turned it into an invitation. An invitation I was far too eager to accept. From the tilt of her head to the curve of her lips, she exuded a kind of controlled competence.
“An evening with you isn’t the problem, Mayhem,” I told her. “If anything, an evening with you would be amazing.”
It was the bald truth, and she deserved to hear it.
“The issue, though, is I don’t know all the players in this game. We might not find anything. We might find everything. Worse… we might see nothing, but they see you with me and…” Too many people I cared about had been targets already.
“Aww, are you worried about me?” She dipped her chin almost shyly before closing the gap between us and reaching for my tie. “You don’t have anything to worry about, Pretty Boy. I’m good at looking after myself.” With a few careful movements, she set my tie and then smoothed down the jacket. “If there is trouble, you look more than capable of a scrap.”
A chuckle shook free from me. “I’m not talking you out of this.”
She clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Now, see, I knew you were smarter than you looked.”