“That’s the one. Would you like to go?”
Of course I want to go; I’m just not sure if I should. We’ve been doing this whole back-and-forth thing for a while now and it’s starting to feel dangerous. Do I really want to be taken to an exclusive, romantic restaurant with a man that I know is not good for me?
The logical part of my brain is saying no.
The emotional part of my brain is saying, What time are we leaving and what should I wear?
And despite all the very salient points that my sensible side is throwing at me right now, the one thing that I keep coming back to is this: I’ve never opened up to anyone the way I’ve opened up to Uri. Because despite all that control and bravado, there’s a deeply complicated, deeply compassionate man who’s just trying to look after his family.
I bite my bottom lip and glance at him. “What about the whole ‘three-month waitlist’ part?”
He scoffs. “There’s no waiting list for me.”
“Right, you’re Mr. Big Shot. I forgot.”
He rolls his eyes. “Why don’t you go upstairs and pretty yourself up? Sakura has a dress code.”
A new wave of insecurity rushes through me. “Um, I, um… don’t have anything to wear.” Even if I had access to my full wardrobe right now, I doubt I’d have anything appropriate to wear. Do I even own a cocktail dress? A fancy outfit?
But Uri waves his hand in my face unconcernedly. “I’ll send something up for you in half an hour or so.”
I balk. “Half an hour?”
He’s looking down at this phone and typing fast. “Uh-huh.”
I narrow my eyes, not that it does any good because he’s still not looking at me. “You don’t have a stash of clothes that your one-night stands left behind, do you? Because I am not wearing any of their dresses.”
That gets his attention. Except he doesn’t look annoyed so much as endlessly amused. “Why not? Most of my one-night-stands had excellent taste.”
My eyes go wide with horror. “You’re not serious… are you?”
“For fuck’s sake, woman.” He sighs. “No, I’m not. Do you really think I’m the kind of man who keeps stuff that my women leave behind? That shit gets thrown out the moment they’re out the door.”
Something about that phrase “my women” needles me. But I just roll my eyes. “Charming.”
“By the way, Alyssa, just so you know—this outing comes with a caveat.”
I stiffen. “Of course it does.”
“Your adventure—but my rules.”
I sigh. “The things I’ll agree to for good sushi. Put that on my gravestone, I guess.”
Then I head back into the house before doubt overrules desire.
Svetlana delivers not one, not two, but three boxes to my room half an hour later.
The moment she leaves, I go for the big one first. Inside is a tasteful black dress with a deep scooped neckline, thin straps, and a hemline that makes me fidget just looking at it.
Too short, my head is telling me. Too sexy. Too much.
But it’s not like he’s given me many options. I set it aside and turn my attention elsewhere for now.
The second box contains a pair of strappy black heels that take my breath away. I don’t let myself start doing the math on how many months of rent a pair of Louis Vuittons is worth.
I’m half-expecting jewelry in the third, much smaller box. But what I find inside is much more shocking. There’s a little Plan B pill…
Nestled on top of a small silver bullet vibrator.
What. The. Hell?
“Ah, good. The packages arrived.”
I whirl around to face the door where Uri is standing in the threshold, looking awfully smug in my opinion. Ignoring the blush on my cheeks, I pick up the vibrator and hold it up to him. “What the hell is this?”
“The best way to understand it is through practical use. I can talk you through it if you’d like.”
I take back my first thought. “Smug” doesn’t even begin to cover it.
My own face is burning at this point. “I know what it is. What I mean is, why is it here?”
“It’s here for you to wear, of course.” My jaw drops, full-on cartoon style. He chuckles conspiratorially. “Your adventure, my rules, remember?”
“B-b-but… it’s a vibrator.”
“A bullet vibrator. It’s made to fit perfectly in that sweet little pussy of yours.”
I gulp hard. I may actually self-combust at this point. But he’s just standing there with that devilish grin on his face, looking at me as though I’m his next meal.
Which, knowing him… I probably am.
“I can’t possibly—”
He shrugs. “I guess I’ll cancel the reservation then.” The jerk actually turns towards the door.
“Wait!”
He glances back over his shoulder, his gaze roving over me first and then moving to the Plan B pill lying on the bed. “I intend to make full use of that pill,” he warns me. “We have a few days to play.”
I’m having a hard time looking at his face or controlling the fire on my cheeks. Goodness knows that coming up with a witty retort is not even remotely in consideration.
“Should I expect to see you downstairs in half an hour?”
I wonder how he’d react if I just called his bluff and turned down the date. A part of me is really tempted to do it, just to see if he would walk away or not. The thing is, if I roll the dice, I’m taking a risk. And if he does walk away, I won’t get out of this estate, I won’t get the world’s greatest sushi, and I won’t get to experience what it feels like to walk into a five-star restaurant with one of the hottest men on the planet and a vibrator turning my brain and vagina into orgasmic jelly.
Dorothy, you’re not in Kansas anymore…
“Half an hour,” I agree in a meek little pipsqueak. “Sounds good.”
Uri smirks and shuts the door behind him on the way out. I take several deep breaths before I start to get ready.
The dress fits like a glove. As I turn to examine myself in the full-length mirror in the bathroom, I realize how sexy it is. My legs are on full display, as is my cleavage, which somehow looks extra generous. The dress also has an inbuilt corset which means my waist is cinched in, accentuating the hourglass figure I didn’t even know I had.
So that’s why people go the designer route. Macy’s, eat your heart out.
Once the dress is on, I put on the heels. In the blink of an eye, I go from Shylyssa Walsh to some glamazon runway model with legs for miles and a proud strut. It’s literally a magic trick. This can’t be real.