The Punk and the Plaything (When Rivals Play #3) - B.B. Reid Page 0,35

glasses hanging from a gold and pearl chain around her neck.

“Oh, there you are, sleepyhead!”

I blinked at my mother’s warm welcome until I remembered our guests. Let the show begin.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting?” I tried my best not to phrase it as a question, but it was difficult considering I had no idea we were having company. My parents didn’t entertain as much as they used to because parties cost money. They also didn’t want their friends noticing how our once extravagantly decorated house was beginning to look rather… barren.

“This is Bechette. She’s come to fit you for your gown.”

My stomach turned as I assumed she meant my wedding dress. If my hand wasn’t holding the banister, I would have sunk to the floor. Or perhaps made a mad dash for the door.

“Yes, and what a beautiful belle for the ball,” Bechette complimented.

It was all I could do to hide my relief. The gown was for prom.

Bechette gestured at the fretful blonde, waiting dutifully next to her like a puppy. “This is Tiffany,” she introduced rather dismissively.

The next hour passed in a blur. I along with Bechette and Tiffany were ushered inside the parlor we used for entertaining. All the hard work I’d spent getting perfect was then unraveled as I was stripped of everything but my heels and forced to stand on a stool.

“I don’t normally do house calls,” Bechette haughtily informed as she wrapped a pink tape around my chest, “but your benefactor was very generous, ma chérie. You must have made quite the impression.” Guiltily, I looked away at the knowing look she gave me. “She’s as flat-chested as an adolescent boy,” Bechette observed with pursed lips. “Unfortunately, we’re going to have to reduce the bust.”

Ignoring her rude remarks, I asked the question most prevalent in my chaotic mind. “This benefactor,” I whispered, “who was he?”

“I’m afraid he wished to remain anonymous, but among his many demands, he did instruct me to give you this.” I was startled when Bechette pressed a folded slip of paper in my hand and curled my fingers over it. “Her torso doesn’t seem to end,” she went on as if nothing had occurred, “so I suppose we must also lengthen the bodice.”

It was clear fitting me into the beautiful creation mocking me just a few feet away was becoming a huge inconvenience to her. Poor Tiffany barely had time to notate all of her pushy boss’s many alterations.

Bechette moved on to measure the rest of me. It seemed the only part of me she hadn’t found an issue with was my small waist, although I did find some of her remarks puzzling. Apparently, whoever sent the dress had warned the dressmaker about my “too slim” hips.

That was the last straw, pushing me with trembling hands to finally open the note.

When the clock strikes twelve, you’re mine, Cinderella.

Don’t bother wearing panties.

My heart pounded in my chest, and I wondered if Bechette might hear. Fortunately, she moved away to carefully prepare the gown for me to try on. No chance in hell that was happening. There was no question who’d written the note and unleashed Bechette on me, but then again, who was I really kidding? I’d always known. How stupid was I to expect him to be anything other than arrogant? And daring.

Without regard for my audience, I savagely tore the note to pieces and watched it rain on the floor. Stepping down from the stool in a hurry, I mistakenly kicked the damn thing over, drawing my mother’s attention. For fuck’s sake.

“Barbette Elizabeth Montgomery,” my mother scolded, “do not be rude!”

I scoffed. I wondered if Mother would mind if she knew what I knew. Naturally, my parents had assumed the gown was a gift from Ever, my fiancé, but what if they didn’t? What game was Jamie playing, and when did it end? He’d been back for almost a year now and showed no signs of growing bored with me.

The gown had taken my breath away. It was perfect. Better than I could have ever dreamed. Turning it away would feel like ripping out my own heart—just as he’d known it would.

God!

The most frustrating part of all was not being able to give as good as I got without my parents noticing. The chain around my neck would only shorten until I suffocated. And Jamie would never know how much better I could play his game.

“Is there a problem?” Bechette questioned with a smirk. She’d obviously met Jamie and