Page 67 of Broken Pieces
Sighing, I take one last look in the mirror. It’s hard not to be self-conscious. This dress is tighter than I remembered, and I had to opt out of wearing underwear because the lines were showing. So I’m most definitely out of my comfort zone right now. The only thing I have going for me today is that I took the extra time to get my hair done in a sleek updo. Not a strand out of place, especially my ungodly curls. Otherwise, I’d have more than enough reasons to go through a whole spiral over my looks. Being a woman sucks. The way I look just consumes my every waking moment. It runs my life. It determines my mood, the way I—don’t—love myself.Everything.
Thank you very much for that, Mother.
I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. Trying my best to remember to be kind to myself. All I hear is my mother’s voice in the back of my head, making up things she most definitely would say if she were here.
That dress is too tight. Have you been gaining weight?
At least your hair looks nice. It would look better with a perm, though.
Shaking my head, I practice one round of breathing, trying to calm my anxiety. Knowing I need to see her in just a few days is definitely fucking with my head.
Walking out of the room, my breath hitches involuntarily as I spot him. My knees buckle at the sight of him, because God, this man’s beauty is so raw and overwhelming.
He’s in an all-black tux, his vest is of black satin material, same as my dress. His pocket has a gold lapel chain with a king’s crown, the stones are blood red, the same color as my usual red lipstick. His hair is slicked back, and his face is freshly shaven, giving him a clean elegant look.
We walk out of the condo and before we get in the car, he flashes me a boyish smile that makes my heartbeat quicken, tightening my chest. He extends his hand and closes the distance between us once I grab it. He places his other hand on my hip as his lips linger on the side of my neck, taking a soft inhale that suddenly makes me feel extremely hot in the middle of the New York winter.
My hand travels to his gold lapel chain, my fingertips tracing the red stones. “I like it. It’s very you,” I taunt.
He smirks, locking his gaze on mine. “I chose it because the stones reminded me of you.”
My face laces with surprise at his confession.
He places a soft kiss close to my lips, then whispers, “You look so damn beautiful,Tesoro.”
He opens the door, and before I get in I turn around and ask, “I’ve been meaning to ask, what doesTesoromean?”
He smirks, licking his lip before replying, “Treasure.”
Oh, I’m so, so fucking screwed.
Ican’t take my eyes off of her. I’m pretty sure I look like a creep right now, but I couldn’t care fucking less. Here I thought the possibility of her looking more beautiful was impossible, but yet, here we are.
“You’re staring,” she whispers with a giggle.
“You really do look beautiful.”
“Yes,” she rolls her eyes playfully, “I gathered that from the other six times you’ve told me during this ten minute car ride.”
“What can I say? I don’t want you to forget,” I say with a playful wink.
She places her head on my shoulder. “Right.”
I almost said fuck it when she came out, because all I wanted to do was stay home so I could tear that fucking dress off and worship her the way she deserves.
My cock stiffens at the thought of me between her legs, exploring every inch of her body, and making her come until we’re both delirious and exhausted.
God, this is fucking killing me.
As we get out of the car, the entrance is bustling with activity. Magazine paparazzi are all around since this is one of the most prestigious auctions in the world. All well-known artists, gallery owners, and even celebrities attend every year.
Aria’s looking around, taking it all in. She stops dead inher tracks and grabs my arm as she keeps looking around nervously, which is understandable, since it’s her first time coming here. I place my hand around her waist and press my fingers reassuringly. She looks at me and takes a deep breath with a nod as we both start walking to the entrance.
“Wait, is that Damian Romano?” a woman whispers.
“Seems so. Who is he with?” another woman whispers back.
I roll my eyes as we keep walking to the carpet to get our photo taken. For business owners like me, it’s important we come here to make connections, but also, the auction lineup they have is usually quite impressive, and I always make it a point to leave with a piece or two. Most people treat this like a party, where they come to drink and gossip as they desperately try to get into the elite's inner circles. It’s sickening, really.
