Page 40 of Sold to Her Enemy

“Yes, put it on the keep rack,” Adrian says.

“What about this burgundy gown with the cape shoulders?” Cath plucks out a gown with flowing fabric.

Adrian tilts his head. “I need to see her in it. I trust there are undergarments set for Miss Moran to try?”

“Whatever she needs, you can pick. I have pulled some that will go well with each dress, and after I take her measurements, I can better advise,” Veronica says.

“Perfect. Not that I want her to wear much under the dress, but options are good, aren’t they, Mckenna?” Adrian lifts my hair off my neck, and I feel about two inches small.

“Yes, Sir.”

I like objectification. I’m not going to deny it.

And the way they talk about me as if I am not here, how Cath points out my dark circles, and Veronica tsks at my dry hands, makes my stomach turn with shame on the edge of desire. But how Adrian raises an eyebrow or tilts his head, his gaze filled with distance, is what makes me wet.

“There is this sparkly dress with a low back; it might be what you want for this evening,” Cath says.

She takes it off the rack, and it glimmers in the room’s light. The gown has a black lacy underlay with many sparkles.

“She’ll definitely try that on. We have enough to get started, ladies, if you’ll excuse us?”

“Of course, Mr. McIntyre, if you need us, there is a buzzer by the door,” Veronica says.

“Help yourself to refreshments,” Cath says, indicating a sideboard with a platter of fruit, pastries, and a coffee service.

The two women leave, and Adrian slides his hands under the silky shirt he picked for me to wear today.

He takes it off and throws it across the room.

“What gown do you like, Mckenna?”

He claps a hand against the nape of my neck, tilts my head so that I am staring into his eyes. I swallow, not wanting to answer because I know the burgundy dress isn’t his pick.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s what you like, Sir.”

He traces my bottom lip with his thumb. “It’s a direct question, Mckenna. Answer.”

“The burgundy one.”

“Ah, the one that hides most of you. It is classic, beautiful, and elegant. All the things you once were.”

All of these gowns are elegant and beautiful and classic, but the way he says it is making the others feel like rags, somehow.

“Yes.”

“Do you wish it was different?” He presses his body against mine, his solid muscles cradling me as he tilts my head down even more.

“I wish my father was in his lab and my mother and I hadn’t lost our home. Yes, I wish a lot of things were different.”

“What else was different?”

“That I wasn’t standing here with you.”

The anger flashes in his eyes, making them dark pools. He lets go of me abruptly. I stumble towards the floor, catching the rack for balance.

“How much did I bid on you again?” he touches my leg with the toe of his shoe, and I scramble back. His tone of voice is calm and steely.

Adrian would never hurt me.

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