Chapter 7 7

His gaze pinned me in place for what felt like forever, a full, charged minute where the world narrowed to nothing but his eyes on me. He didn't say a word, but there was something in that look... a kind of possession, as if he were memorizing me, weighing me, owning me without touching me.

The air between us thickened. My heartbeat felt loud in my ears. Finally, I turned toward the changing room, desperate to break the spell. "I'll change the dress-"

"No." His voice was deep, almost velvet, but carried the weight of an order. "That's the perfect dress."

The way perfect rolled off his tongue sent a shiver down my spine. I swallowed, forcing myself to nod. "Okay," I said, softer than I meant to, retreating into the room like it was some kind of escape.

I picked a pair of scarlet heels to match the dress. He was at the other end of the boutique, sliding his hands into his pockets as he chose his shoes with calm precision, then came toward me and placed a small velvet box in my hands.

When I flipped it open, my breath caught... diamonds. Big enough to make my rent disappear for years. Cold, dazzling, dangerous.

Snobby rich people.

We didn't leave with bags. "They'll be sent to my house," he said casually, as if that was the only way anyone shopped. "A makeup artist will meet us there."

By the time we returned to the office, it was 4:16 p.m. The event started at six.

He disappeared into his office; I buried myself in mine. I drafted an email to our pilot about the Paris trip next week, asking him to prep the jet. Yes, jet. My boss didn't just fly first class, he owned the damn plane.

Once the last email was sent, it was time to get ready.

His office door swung open. He stepped out, perfectly put together, gaze steady.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied, grabbing my bag.

We entered the elevator. The air in there was stifling, not because it was warm, but because of the unspoken thing hanging between us. Maybe because we'd had sex, cum dripping hot sex. Twice. Once as strangers. Now, as boss and employee, we had to pretend it meant nothing.

At his house, everything we'd bought was waiting along with the makeup artist, who lit up when he saw me.

"Oh my God, is this her?" he gushed. I smiled despite myself.

"You're already gorgeous," he said, circling me like an artist with a masterpiece. "I'm just here to highlight the magic."

"Don't flatter me."

"I don't lie, darling."

Ryan gave a slight shake of his head at our exchange, muttering something under his breath before disappearing upstairs.

The makeup artist worked his magic ,smoky eyes, skin that looked airbrushed but real, and a red lip sharp, it really compliments my eyes. My hair was straightened to a satin fall down my back, then pinned with delicate precision.

I studied my reflection. "You've turned me into a model."

He smirked. "You were already a model. I just... framed the art."

He sent me to change. The red dress slipped on without disturbing my hair, but the zipper stopped halfway.

"Gabby, could you..." I turned, expecting the stylist.

It was Ryan.

"Sir?"

"Gabriel had an emergency. I came to check on you." His tone was smooth, but the weight of his eyes said something else entirely.

I turned my back. His fingers caught the zipper, sliding it up with deliberate slowness. The brief drag of his knuckles against my bare spine sent heat spiraling low in my stomach.

It was such a small touch but it left my skin burning.

Okay Rose control yourself, don't let a mere touch make you horny.

"You're forgetting something," he murmured.

I blinked. "What?"

"No jewelry."

Right. I moved to the table, fastening the earrings and bracelet with shaky fingers. The necklace refused to cooperate. I fumbled twice, groaning.

"Let me." His voice was closer than I expected. He stepped behind me, the heat from his body brushing my back. The necklace slid into place easily under his steady hands, and for one dangerous second, I thought I felt his breath against my neck.

Outside, a black limousine waited. The driver held the door for us like we were royalty.

At the event the grand opening of a luxury hotel, wealth was everywhere: diamonds, champagne, cars worth more than my yearly salary.

Ryan offered his arm without looking at me. I took it anyway.

"Cole!" A woman's voice rang out. She was beautiful, all polished edges and expensive perfume. She greeted him with a kiss to the cheek, ignoring me entirely before taking his arm possessively. I followed,like the dutiful secretary I am.

In a group of men, she clung to him. One man's gaze flicked to me.

"And who's this gorgeous thing?"

"Rose Norman," I said, smiling politely. "Mr. Ricci's secretary."

"Trade you," he joked. "If she worked for me, I'd never miss a day in the office." The men laughed; Rachel didn't. Her glare was sharp enough to cut glass.

The attention from the other men was blatant.

Then out of nowhere Ryan spilled wine on my dress. The angle of his hand, the way his eyes didn't match his apology ,this wasn't an accident.

I excused myself and found a bathroom. I was blotting the stain when I heard the door close and lock.

Ryan.

"Enjoyed the attention?" His voice was low, measured, the kind that could flay you without raising the volume. "Felt like a star, didn't you?"

"Why did you pour wine on me Mr Ricci?"

He shrugged, stepped closer. "Mr. Ricc-"

The wall hit my back before I finished.

"Did you?" His gaze was predatory now. "One of them looked ready to taste these..." His tongue traced the swell of my breast, slow, deliberate.

"Sir, we promised to keep this professional."

"Then prove you're not wet," he said, each word like a challenge. "Drop your panties. Show me. Do that... and I'll never touch you again."