Page 89 of Knot for Me
“Perfect. God, I’m good.”
I open my eyes and smile at her. “I had no doubt.”
She squints. “You had a little.”
“Okay, maybe a smidge of doubt, but I trusted the fact that you wouldn’t make me look like a clown.”
“You’d be the hottest clown in the room.” She nods solemnly. “I should add a bit more red to your cheeks then…” She trails off with a smirk.
“No, no.” Hopping up from the bed, I go check out her work in the mirror. The smoke comment makes sense now. Amelie perfected the smoky eye, and my eyes are sultry and very come-hithery.
“Let me pull on the dress before we do my hair.”
“Good, I’ll work on my face next.”
I close myself in the closet, inhaling my and Lucas’ scent, letting the enticing mixture ground me before I pull on the fancy lingerie, the dress, and the shoes. Tonight there are no rules about shoes. Earlier, I heard Cory mention the extra cleaning crew they’re hiring after. Apparently, asking guests to take off their shoes at a ball might be a little odd. I’ll miss my cute slippers, but these shoes aren’t so bad. I smooth my hands over the velvet fabric of my dress, truly loving the softness of it. I grab the choker and secure it around my neck, running my finger over the equally soft black velvet. There’s a dainty silver heart in the middle of it which I love.
A tremor of excitement rushes through me, but I quickly remind myself that this isn’t a party for me. This is a party for the pack alphas. Still, I can’t help grinning at Amelie who has stuck to a classic but fierce eyeliner and bright red lips. She’s freaking gorgeous, and her tight, black mini-dress hugs her curves.
She whistles at me. “Damn, girl. Those men are in for it.”
“This dress is amazing.”
“Mmhmm. Wait until Lucas sees you. He’ll kill me.” She cackles like that’s the thing she’s looking forward to most.
“Why will he kill you?” I pick up my brush and fix my hair so she can do my curls.
She leans toward the mirror to do her mascara. “He asked for inconspicuous.”
“Amelie. This is very conspicuous.”
“Oh, trust me, I know.” She swipes the brush over her lashes once more before closing the mascara.
“You’re trouble.”
“I live for it. Now come on, let me make some waves.”
I roll my eyes at her ridiculous joke and set the brush down. My cheeks hurt from smiling so much, and the closer it gets to time for us to go downstairs, the bigger it grows. Amelie laughs at me a few times, whispering about how I’m going to upstage everyone and she’ll have to hate me.
None of that can kill how I feel right now.
Right now, dolled up and looking like a vixen, I feel like a badass.
This night might not be so bad after all.
Once she’s finished curling my hair and she checks herself over, she says we can go downstairs. My stomach knots with anxiety. What will they think of my outfit? Will Lucas make me change? I hope not. This dress doesn’t belong in a closet. It’s too damn gorgeous.
I hear them before we see them. Their voices are coming from near the front door, and my heart jumps at the clichéprincess-coming-down-the-stairs-to-meet-her-princevibe of it all. Unlike those scenes in the movies, they don’t stop talking. They don’t even notice me, which I admit makes me a little sad. They’re all wearing fancy suits that are molded to their forms, muscles obvious underneath the jackets. Cory’s hair is pulled into a sleek bun, neater than his usual style but still a little wild compared to the other two alphas. Lucas’ brown hair is slicked back, not a strand out of place, and Marco’s black hair sweeps to the side in a carefree but put together look.
“Excuse me, alphas,” Amelie says, overly loud since they’re only a few feet away. “Have you seen Reagan around?”
“You’re so not subtle,” I groan.
“She’s upsta—” Marco trails off, a big grin cutting across his face when his eyes meet mine. “Wow,” he mutters, checking me out. His gaze lingers on my thighs.
Okay, not sad anymore.
I glance at Cory next. He’s less likely to be angry. I’m right, he’s not mad, but his eyes are tracking over me, and his scent envelops me not two seconds later. Strong and full of desire. I bite my lip and swallow.
