Boldly, I captured his wrist and brought his hand from his thigh to mine. The rustle of my skirts sounded excruciatingly loud on my over-sensitive nerves. “Put your hand up my dress and find out.”
He let out a strangled noise. Yanking his hand back, he growled, “You’re playing with fire, Buttercup.” The word “fire” sent his eyes darting to my scars—prominent and unashamedly on display. There was no mistaking that I wasn’t just a girl in a pretty dress. I was a woman who’d lived a story and wasn’t afraid to tell it.
“I like to play with dangerous things.”
He groaned, staring at the limo ceiling as if begging for deliverance. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me.”
I whipped out my hand, ready to wrap around his cock.
I’ll find out.
In a flash he trapped my fingers, holding me millimeters away from touching him. “You’re going to pay for what you’re doing.”
I shivered. “How much will you make me pay?”
He smiled like a scoundrel—a rogue who was exactly in control even when he looked wildly out of it. Dragging me forward by my hand, he murmured in my ear, “Your payment will consist of whatever I deem worthy.” He pressed a kiss on my powdered cheek. “Until then, you can live in anticipation of what I’ll make you do.”
In a second, he was gone—springing from the car as an unseen chauffeur opened the back door.
I blinked. It’d been eerie being driven to an unknown destination by an unknown driver. The limo had magically appeared the moment Arthur returned home—already immaculately dressed and smelling divinely like woodsy smoke and seaside.
There was a few seconds’ delay as the driver came around to my side. With a flourish, he opened the door and revealed the most immaculate villa in all of the Florida Keys. My mouth fell open at the stunning fa?ade of the stone home with sweeping porticos and pastel accents. Strategic lights illuminated shrubbery and pathways, turning night into starlight.
“Wow,” I breathed as Arthur appeared, holding out his hand. “This is the party?” I couldn’t stop staring.
“It is indeed.” His fingers clamped around mine, pulling me from the car.
The moment I tottered on insanely high turquoise heels—also courtesy of Arthur’s chosen boutique store—I self-consciously smoothed down the thigh-length strapless dress.
“Who owns this place?” Up till now I thought Arthur’s mansion was slick and beautiful, but it looked clunky compared to the feminine beauty of this timeless villa.
Arthur smiled secretively. “A friend.”
My hackles rose at the thought of any friend living in such a place. “A female friend?”
Placing his hand on the small of my back, he pushed me down the glowing path. “No, jealous Buttercup. A man.”
“Oh.”
“Yes, oh. His ex-wife is an architect. Built this place, decorated it to rival any interior design magazine, then left him for a younger version.”
“Ouch.”
Arthur shrugged. “That was a while ago. Samson is now happily remarried and even has a brat or two, I believe.”
Carefully keeping my eyes on the decoration of white pebbles latticing the black pavers leading to the doorway, I asked, “You believe?”
Arthur’s touch turned protective as we scaled the three steps and stood poised at the front entrance. “We don’t talk about personal things. We’re friends because of mutual goals, but we aren’t about to go to each other’s birthday parties.”
Who was this unknown Samson? If he wasn’t a friend, why was he important in the scheme of things?
Standing on the threshold, I suffered nerves and butterflies. Was I enough? Had I done the best I could with my hair? My makeup? I’d taken the longest I’d ever done applying just the right amount of mascara and dusky pink lipstick, and I’d never fussed so much over my hair.
I’d even watched some online videos to attempt a fishtail braid, draping the tamed hair over my shoulder and finishing it with the black ribbon from the dress box.
But no matter how much I’d primped and painted, I still felt like a fraud—someone who looked the part but beneath was absolutely unprepared and a sham.
Arthur squeezed my hip, sensing my anxiousness. “Relax, Cleo.”
“But what if I say the wrong thing? I’ve avoided parties and social gatherings all my life. I’m always terrified of meeting someone I once knew and not being able to place them, or making small talk only to find amnesia devoured that piece of information, too.”
Sweat rolled down my spine, spreading my panic. I didn’t know why I was so close to freaking out. It wasn’t like I didn’t have my memories this time, and I had Arthur by my side.
But that inescapable fear still clutched me.
Looking into his calming emerald eyes, I begged, “Please don’t leave me alone tonight. Promise you’ll stay by me?”
With a gentle smile, he dragged me into his embrace, cocooning me in his arms.
Instantly, I relaxed, feeding off his peacefulness, his capable, unflappable ease. “I promise I’ll never take my eyes off you.”