Page 179 of Toxic Temptation
“No buts. Not a single one. We’re finding you a dress that will make that man fall to his knees. Then we’re finding lingerie to match, so that when he’s on his knees, he will at least be clear about what his job is down there.”
“Charity—!”
“Twenty minutes, Vesper. Don’t make me come drag you out of that apartment. And yes, that is a threat. Kovan isn’t the only violent one around these parts.”
The line goes dead.
I stare at my phone, torn between mortification and something that feels dangerously close to girlish excitement.
Kovan knew I’d need a dress. He planned for it. He wanted to take care of it. Ofme.
Maybe Charity’s right.
Maybe it’s time to let him.
63
VESPER
I stare at my reflection and want to crawl under my bed.
“I can’t wear this dress,” I hiss into the phone.
“Vesper Antoinette Fairfax.” Charity’s voice carries that warning edge that means she’s about to read me the riot act. “You will wear that damn dress tonight or I will never speak to you again.”
“This is all your fault! You’re the one who convinced me to buy it in the first place!” I turn sideways in the mirror, then immediately regret it. The dress clings to every curve I have and several I didn’t even know existed. “So maybe I’ll be the one not speaking to you ever again.”
“I will haunt you to the end of your days if you ever repeat that.”
Despite my panic, I snort out a laugh. “Seriously, Char. It’s too much.”
And it is. The fabric is deep emerald silk that flows like water over my body. The top gathers in a crisscross pattern that somehow makes my waist look tiny while emphasizing exactly how not-tiny everything else is. The skirt falls to my ankles inelegant folds thatwouldbe perfectly modest, just so long as you ignored everything happening above my hips.
Which you can’t. Because the neckline plunges toward my navel like it’s on a suicide mission. The straps holding up the entire bodice are basically dental floss pretending to be fashion. And the back? The back is completely open, dipping so low I had to buy new underwear just to avoid a plumber’s crack scandal.
I look good. Too good. Dangerously good.
But I’m a pediatric surgeon, not a Victoria’s Secret model. “Too good” is not in the job description.
“You look like sin in that dress,” Charity declares, like she knows exactly what I’m thinking. “You look like sex walking. You look like an orgasm with legs. That is precisely the dress you should be wearing tonight. Kovan won’t know what hit him.”
“The problem is nobody else will know what hit them, either.” I clutch the phone tighter. “I’m walking into a ballroom full of my colleagues. My boss who already wants me fired will take one look at this dress and start writing up my termination papers. I can’t show up looking like?—”
“Like what?”
“Like… like I’m advertising services I don’t provide.”
“What you look like is a strong, confident, beautiful woman who finally remembered she has a body.” Charity gets stern. “We dropped serious money on that dress, and there’s no returning it, so you better wear it tonight.”
My stomach plummets. “What do you mean we can’t return it? You told me it was on sale. You said it was three hundred dollars!”
Silence.
“… Charity.”
“Okay, so, don’t get mad,” she pleads, “but I may or may not have lied.”
“What?!”
