Page 35 of Faking it with the Billionaire
“Oh, what is it?” Bristol’s eyes light up, and she hurries over toward me excitedly.
The kid is spoiled rotten, but that’s my own doing. I want to give her everything as long as she appreciates it.
“Lia is going to watch you tonight. I had Mitchell pick up some cookie dough so she can make you an extra yummy snack after dinner.”
Bristol grins and taps her fingers together excitedly. “Yum!”
I’m relieved that the cookie dough is enough of a surprise to excite my daughter.
“Do you have a treat for me too?” Em asks, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips.
“Actually, I do. But it’s more the kind of surprise that you wear. Come with me.” I take her hand and lead her up the stairs to her bedroom.
“What are we—”
Bristol is following on our heels, and Em keeps giving me a questioning glance with our little shadow in tow.
I open the door to her bedroom, and the garment bag is hanging obtrusively from the door.
“What’s that?” she asks, glancing from the closet to me and back again.
“Open it,” I say. I lean against the doorframe, a smug grin on my face as she saunters into her bedroom and slowly unzips the bag.
She gasps as she unwraps the dress from the bag. “Kyler, it’s too much. You shouldn’t have. I can’t accept—”
“You can, and you will,” I say. It isn’t a question. “The charity event this evening is extravagant, and I need you looking the part of a hockey player’s girlfriend. And it’s no secret, my net worth. You can’t attend in anything less stunning. It would reflect poorly on me.”
“And this is the image that you want, of me, on your arm wearing this?” she whispers in awe.
“Yes, I want everyone staring at you,” I confess. I want to make all the men jealous and the women envious of her. It shouldn’t be difficult, considering how stunning she always looks in a simple pair of jeans or black leggings and a t-shirt.
“Crap. I’m going to need a pair of shoes—”
“Already done.” I point at the box on the floor near the closet.
My daughter grabs the box and hands it to Emerson. “Open it,” Bristol says excitedly.
Slowly, Emerson lifts the lid of the box, and I didn’t expect her to be even more surprised. “Wow. You’ve really outdone yourself.”
“And everything will fit,” I say. I have no doubt she will look amazing in the ensemble.
“Try it on!” Bristol squeals with excitement, jumping up and down.
* * *
Emerson looks exquisite. The gown fits her like a glove. It’s tight in all the right places, which doesn’t do me any favors as she struts down the staircase with her grand entrance.
We need to head out to the event, but I can’t take my eyes off her body.
It’s hard not to stare as the V-line of the dress dips down into her cleavage, leaving me with quite an eyeful. I’m a man. It’s hard not to stare at her assets. I’ll have to send an extra-large tip to the tailor who made sure the dress fit perfectly. I owe him big time.
“Is it too much?” Emerson asks. Her cheeks blush, and she pushes a strand of hair behind her ear.
“It’s perfect,” I whisper. I escort her outside, and Mitchell is waiting for us. He opens the back door, and Emerson slides into the backseat. I shuffle around to the opposite side to climb in beside her while Mitchell shuts her door.
“We’re really doing this,” she says and bites down on her bottom lip.
Mitchell pulls us away from the house. I glance back, knowing that Bristol is safe with Lia. The security system is armed, and if anyone should so much as open a window, I’ll know about it.
