Page 46 of Red Flagged
“So… is this one a no,mon amour?”
Ivy didn’t miss a beat. “Wait. Why are you seeking a man’s approval on your outfit again?”
I grinned. “I’m not. I’m collecting reactions to feed my ego.”
“Mine’s broken,” Callum said flatly. “Congratulations.”
Marco clapped once. “RIP to that man’s self-control.”
Kimi raised his glass. “To sexual tension in designer couture.”
I turned and waltzed back into the bedroom. Ivy was hot on my heels, grabbing the next hanger before I could even shut the door. “Now this one’s dominatrix debutante,” she declared. “And I’m obsessed.”
“Oh no,” I muttered, eyeing the gloves. “This looks like it comes with a safe word.”
“It does. The safe word is ‘again.’”
I rolled my eyes, but stepped into the backless lace corset dress anyway. The second it was tied, I knew it was dangerous. Ivy cinched the laces up the back, and I swore I felt her fingers in my spine. It clung in all the right places—corseted waist, sheer mesh panels, scalloped lace hem that barely grazed my thighs.
The long, sheer black gloves were patterned in delicate lace, tight from shoulder to wrist like a second skin. They shimmered faintly with a velvet embossing, catching the light with every breath. The corset back laced up in neat, narrow rows, and the hem barely covered the top of my thighs. My lower back tattoo was visible through the crisscrossed ribbon. And the gloves—elbow-length and matching—were so snug Ivy had to roll them up slowly, inch by inch, like she was dressing me in sin.
Holy fuck.
I flexed my fingers once they were on, feeling dangerous. My face was hot and it was a bit hard to breathe. I went into the bathroom and turned to see the back. My eyes flew wide when I saw that my lower back tattoo peeked through the corset lacing, the ink stark against bare skin, and I already knew this dress wasn’t making it to dinner. Not without starting an incident.
“Good luck convincing Callum on this one,” Ivy muttered as I scurried back into the room.
“Fermez-la,” I grumbled, telling her to shut up in French as I pulled the bedroom door back open.
Marco made a noise that could only be described as a strangled “ohhh.” Kimi coughed.Hard.
I did a little twirl, teasing, not thinking anything of it—until Marco’s jaw dropped even lower.
“Wait, wait, wait. Was that a tramp stamp?!”
I froze mid-spin, turning to look over my shoulder. “What? Oh no.Merde.”
Kimi leaned forward. “It is. It’s a literal lower back tattoo. Oh my god.”
Ivy slapped a hand over her mouth, cracking up. “You didn’t think the lace-up corset would show that?”
I flushed from head to toe. “I forgot!”
Callum fucking moved. He leapt to his feet and crossed the room in three long strides, wrapped an arm around my waist, and lifted me off the ground like I weighed nothing. I shrieked, laughing as the lace rode up dangerously.
“Nope. Absolutely not,” he snapped, one hand braced under my thighs as he carried me back toward the bedroom. “You’re gonna start an international war if you walk into that dinner looking like this.”
“Oh my God,” Ivy wheezed. “He’s spiraling.”
“She’s gonna wear the gloves but not the dress, isn’t she?” Marco called after us.
“Pretty sure that tattoo’s just a map to the danger zone,” Kimi added.
“Ivy!” I shrieked as Callum kicked the door shut behind us.
He dropped me to my feet only to immediately back me into the wall, crashing his mouth onto mine with a groan so guttural it vibrated through my ribcage. His fingers tugged roughly at the corset ties down my spine, dragging them just enough to make me gasp into the kiss.
“Ma putain de sorcière,” he growled into my mouth.My fucking witch.“You want to walk out there looking like this? You want me to watch them look at you? Fantasize about what I did to you last night—what I’m still going to do when we get back?”
