Page 26 of SINS & Riley
“I, my dear, am a world-class designer. I have fashion houses in New York, London, Dubai, and Milan. I am the go-to couturier of royalty, the man who can make a duchess weep with joy and sultans beg for my time. And yet, your boyfriend cut to the front of the line and plucked me off the street.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
My protest falls on deaf ears. Ricardo flutters a hand dramatically. “Just…snatched me. Like a stray dog.”
He’s so worked up I only shrug. “Tough break.” Then, a beat later—“Wait. He snatched you off the street?” I tilt my head, forcing a casual tone. “How far from here?”
“I don’t know.”
“Okay, which street?”
He looks up, as if dragging the memory out of thin air. “I said I don’t know. One of the side streets in Downtown Chicago.” He presses two fingers to his temple. “At first I thought it was my date playing rough. Big scary van, over the top thugs?—”
“How long did it take to get here?”
He waves vaguely. “No idea. Time always blurs when I have a bag over my head.”
Always blurs. He says it so casually I almost choke. He’s serious. Like this is normal. Like he racks up frequent flyer miles for kidnappings.
I wonder if designer to the mob is listed somewhere on his résumé.
Is that why Zver picked him? His tie to the D’Angelos.
To Kennedy.
He rises, dusts off his sleeves, and gives the gown a once over. His brow lifts in quiet scrutiny.
“Is it alright?” I ask, shrinking a little under the weight of his gaze.
He blows out a breath. “I believe my work here is done.” With a wink and a soft nudge, he turns me to face the mirror.
I hardly recognize myself. The gown…blood-red silk. Sculpted to cling in all the right places. Loose enough to breathe. Tight enough to command. A dress cut to tease and reveal all at once.
I’m overwhelmed.
“Well?” He asks.
It’s the kind of question he already knows the answer to.
“It’s flawless.” The flutter in my heart twists sharp with sadness. God, I wish Kennedy could see me like this.
He steps closer, almost brotherly. “What’s with the frown?”
I let out a sigh. “It’s nothing.” The last thing I want is to weigh him down. He’s worked too hard for this moment, and I won’t be the one to pop his balloon.
My eyes drift back to the mirror. It’s like staring at a wildflower seconds before it’s hit by a bulldozer.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” Ricardo holds up two strips of fabric. “You selected silk. Black on one side, crimson on the other. These will set off the necklace nicely.”
I stare up, confused.
“The restraints,” he says, like it should’ve been obvious. He knots them into big bows at my wrists, dressing me up like some kind of gift.
I would argue, but I can’t do one more lecture on how he’s the designer and I’m just the muse.
A soft chime pings from his watch. It’s sleek, expensive, and the kind that probably costs more than the value of my life. Ricardo glances down.
“Just under three hours,” he says lightly. “I suspect the henchmen will be here soon.”
