Gone with the Wolf - By Kristin Miller Page 0,28
and Forbes businessmen. It was a black-tie affair, which meant anything could be in the bag: Gucci, Prada, Dolce & Gabbana. Emelia shuddered with anticipation as a single name streaked through her thoughts: Vera.
“Well, come on!” Trixie waved her hand impatiently. “Unzip it, or I will.”
“All right.” Emelia unzipped as Trixie peeled apart the bag opening.
“Oh my—” Trixie gasped, hand to mouth, as the zipper hit the bottom of the bag, revealing the entire dress.
“It’s”—air wheezed past Emelia’s lips—“pretty?”
The dress was a hodgepodge of cotton and lace, full length, flat black, and full-collared. It was perfect…for a nun in training. A blind nun. Who picked her own clothing. From Walmart.
“This has to be a mistake.” Trixie backed away like the dress was covered in maggots. “I must’ve picked up the wrong bag from the designer.”
Speechless, Emelia checked the tag. No mistake. The garb was hers. She pulled it out by its hanger and held it up, then met Trixie’s mortified gaze. “Is this what women wear to these things?”
“Oh honey.” Trixie’s hand found Emelia’s shoulder as if she were consoling her after a death in Emelia’s family. “What has gotten into that man?”
Things never worked out as Emelia dreamed. She should’ve been used to that by now.
“If this is what Mr. Wilder wants me to wear, I’ll do it.” She owed him at least that much. “It’s just so…”
“Morticia Addams?”
“Uh-huh.”
Gazing far off, Trixie twirled a strand of caramel-colored hair around her finger. “What time is Mr. Wilder picking you up tomorrow?”
“He’s sending the limo to my place at noon. Why?”
“I want to know how much time I have to get Cinderella ready for the ball. Fairy godmothers don’t work well under time crunches, you know.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t mess with it. I mean, this is his event and I’m attending as his date.” The word sent chills racing to her middle. “I wouldn’t want to toss this aside and wear something different. I wouldn’t want to…offend him.”
She’d done enough of that already.
“Oh sweetie,” Trixie exhaled, her full lips quirking into a smile. “If he wants you to wear black, we don’t want to disappoint him. But if you leave everything else to me, I promise you that Mr. Wilder won’t be offended by your new dress. Not one bit.”
Something mischievous sparked behind Trixie’s eyes. Emelia stared at the black burlap sack flattened across her desk, and although she had no idea what Trixie had in mind, it couldn’t be worse than that.
“Okay,” Emelia said, with a decisive nod. “What’s the plan?”
As Trixie put an arm over her shoulder and led her to the elevators, Emelia couldn’t help but feel like this moment was a game-changer in a game she never really understood in the first place.
…
Drake’s chest was going to implode. He checked his watch. Again.
One thirty.
When Drake had arrived at Emelia’s apartment at noon, right on time, Emelia had told him she was running late and asked if he wouldn’t mind waiting downstairs for a few minutes.
An hour and a half was more waiting than he could afford. With the ride to the airport, flight time, and the ride to the gala, they were already pushing it. While he hated parties, galas, and benefits where stares and whispers were the norm, he couldn’t be late to this one. The Vanguard Gala had always been special to him, and he needed to get there early to make sure everything was in order, the way he’d arranged it. He’d ordered his top packmates to guard the hall in the case there was another attack. They should’ve been there already, waiting for his orders.
With a huff and one last glance at his watch, Drake pushed off the limo and strode across the sidewalk. And stopped in his tracks when he spotted the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen descend from the stairs ahead of him.
A stunning black dress hugged Emelia’s curves, sucking against her breasts and hips. Layers of soft black fabric flared at the knee like billowing flowers falling to the ground. Her body was covered in stripes of black and beige, although the beige made it look like she was nude beneath stringy black fabric, which made Drake’s stomach tighten with anxiety. As Drake raised his gaze up the floral neckline to Emelia’s shimmering pale lips and dark, smoke-colored eye makeup, he realized the night was definitely not going to go as planned. He stared so long without blinking that his eyes dried and stuck to his lids. He rubbed them