Page 30 of His to Possess
“No,” I say quickly. “I’m asking you to come with me.”
Her blinking gets more rapid, her expression perplexed. “You want me to come to your business dinner?”
“Business slash social dinner,” I correct. “And yes. I would very much like you to be there.”
“Why?”
I shrug, feeling strangely vulnerable. “Because I’d like to spend time with you.” Why in the hell does this seem so difficult? It’s dinner, for fuck’s sake. “Nate will be bringing his fiancée, Harper. She’s a year or so older than you, I believe. And the restaurant we’ll be dining at is superb, the chef there is one of the best in the region.”
Jesus, Matthews, stop rambling. “I think you might enjoy it,” I finish lamely.
She’s quiet for a moment and her face reddens slightly as I watch. “I don’t have anything to wear,” she finally murmurs, embarrassment bleeding off her. I’m positive she’s picturing the same thing I am—that black garbage bag full of her things that I dragged out of the apartment earlier. I hadn’t thought to include anything formal in the clothing my assistant brought this morning. The blue dress she’d worn last night could work, but I’d rather burn the thing than ever see her in it again.
“Not a problem,” I say crisply, wanting to appease the shame I see swimming in her eyes. I whip out my phone and type a quick message. “My assistant will arrange a personal shopper to meet with you tomorrow morning.”
She doesn’t respond right away and when I look up I see that she seems to be battling a smile.
“You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“That whole domineering thing you just apologized for.”
I smile, feeling sheepish. “Sorry. Force of habit.”
“You’re in the habit of providing women with fancy clothes?”
I can’t help tossing her a devilish grin. “I’m actually in the habit of relieving women of their fancy clothes.”
She bursts out laughing, the sound soothing the tense guilt that had been plaguing me since our earlier argument.
“You’re so arrogant.”
“Perhaps,” I agree, still grinning. “But I promise you it’s well deserved.” I search her eyes. “So you’ll join me tomorrow?”
I’m only referring to dinner, but it suddenly seems like I’m asking for much more than that. And from the way her eyes widen slightly, I’m fairly sure she feels it too.
Still, she takes a deep breath. “Yes, Philip. I’ll join you.”
Lilah
Stepping into the lobby at the chic French eatery feels surreal. It’s strange to think that it was only a year ago that places like this were the norm for me. Now the luxury I used to take for granted feels like another life.
“You look lovely,” Philip murmurs into my ear, perhaps taking note of my nerves. He’s been very solicitous ever since our argument yesterday. I can tell he feels guilty about what he said—he definitely seems to be pulling out all the stops to make it up to me.
He’s doing a pretty good job of it, too. He was already at work when Mrs. Higgins woke me up with my coffee this morning, but he left me a note detailing the plans he had made. A car arrived shortly after breakfast to whisk me off for a day of decadent pampering—he’d hand-picked several spa treatments for me in addition to scheduling me for a haircut. God, it had been ages since I had a proper haircut.
Then there were the clothes. A personal shopper met me back at his penthouse with a rack of designer dresses to try on, as well as several shopping bags bulging with the kind of luxuries I haven’t had in years. Bath products from Elemis. A bottle of Chanel perfume. What appeared to be the entire makeup counter at Saks. But the dress was the thing that really had my heart racing. Goodlordthis dress.
When everything turned sideways with my family, getting away was my main objective. Leaving behind all the nice things I’d grown up with didn’t matter. My father and my stepfather taught me that there are far worse things than having to wear thrift store clothes.
But that didn’t stop me from letting out a little whimper of longing when the personal shopper pulled the garment bag away to reveal a genuine Oscar de la Renta fit and flair cocktail gown. I’d forgotten how buttery soft the fabric of really nice clothes can feel, forgotten how the sophisticated cut of a dress could enhance any figure. And I’d forgotten how nice it is to dress up just for the fun of it.
I turn to Philip and meet his eye. “Thank you.”
He shrugs. “Merely telling the truth.”
I force myself to hold his gaze, even though I feel awkward. “Not just for the compliment. Thank you for the dress, Philip. For the entire day. And for taking me out tonight.”
