a sip and hum my enjoyment. Her lips part in a knowing smile. “You off tomorrow night? I’d like to take you out . . . my choice this time.”
She bites her lip, testing my control and knowing it. “Nah, scheduled to work all evening.”
Fuck that. I break her gaze, looking over to the register and yelling out, “Hey, Stella! Madison can’t work tomorrow. I think she’s coming down with something. Gonna have to get Carl to cover the bar.”
Stella laughs and looks at Madison for her reaction. I hold my breath, waiting too. It’s a power move, a rather public one, and if she shuts me down, it’s gonna fucking hurt. Probably worse than the hangover I got from my last big move.
Madison schools her face as she looks at Stella and fake coughs. “Yeah . . . cough-cough . . . not feeling too well. Might have to take the night off tomorrow.”
Stella laughs, and I release the breath I was holding. “Sure thing, honey. Carl can cover for you. Lord knows, you cover for his lazy ass enough. You two have fun. I mean, take good care of my girl, Suit. Make sure she’s feeling better.”
Fuck. Yes.
Chapter 12
Madison
Daily Horoscope, October 2nd
Libra – Roses are fragile, requiring care to flourish, much like Libra’s spirit.
Tiff reads my horoscope aloud and I scowl. “I don’t think there’s a single thing about me that says dainty and rosy. Definitely not my cold, dark soul,” I joke.
Tiffany looks at me. “You’re probably right. You’re more like a wildflower. A daisy that just pops up in the middle of the concrete jungle and says, ‘Fuck you for saying I shouldn’t be here. Look at my awesomeness!’ and then makes wishes come true. And for real, girl . . . your soul is cold and dark like cake is bitter. Not. At. All.” She snaps to emphasize the declaration.
I look at myself in the mirror, running my hands over the black satin dress I’m wearing, shocked at the girl looking back at me. The package came via courier this afternoon, along with a note from Scott asking me to wear it for our date.
“Uh . . . how do I look?” I ask, glancing back at Tiffany, who’s decided to camp out on my bed while I change. It’s becoming her favorite perch. “I feel like I’m playing dress-up.”
“You might be, but damn if you don’t play really well,” Tiff says. “Fuck Julia Roberts. You have the whole Pretty Woman schtick down pat.”
“So you’re saying I dress like a hooker?” I ask saucily, earning a raspberry. I turn back, looking in the mirror, and take a deep breath. The fact is, I do look amazing in this dress. Somehow, Scott knew my size perfectly, and even the cups on the dress are close enough to the right size that I’m not falling out all over the place. “It’s beautiful . . . but holy fuck, Tiff, how much do you think this thing cost?”
“More than your car,” Tiff says as she takes a sip of tea and sets it down. “I Googled the label.”
It’s the only worry I’ve had about Scott. He’s rich and along with that, powerful. And I am neither of those things, which scares me. I want to be independent, able to have my own opinions and thoughts, to run my own life. But he’s just so . . . overwhelming. And I like it when he’s bossy and assertive, taking charge and making big plays for me like I’m worth it. I’m not sure what that says about me, but I’m sure it’s not flattering.
“Well, regardless, I need to strap these on,” I finally say, putting on the heels that came with the dress. I stand up, turning to my right and left and smiling at my reflection.
There’s a knock at our door, and Tiffany grins. “Lover boy is here. Hope your thong is ready.”
I blush, and Tiffany gawks before laughing. “You really are wearing a thong, aren’t you, you slut?” she teases.
“Hey!” I protest, but it’s weak because I know that while the fancy dress is for whatever Scott has planned, I chose the lingerie underneath with my plans in mind.
Tiff gets up and goes to the door, peeping. “Fuck me!” she says in a whisper loud enough for Scott to hear through the thin door.
Tiffany gulps and steps back, opening the door. As soon as I see Scott, I see what she meant. His suit is perfect, complimenting