Chapter 21
1164words
I've created a trench in my bedroom carpet from pacing back and forth. It's impossible to hold still. I'm going to leave the mansion! I'm ... going on a date with Asher.
What a strange thought. I'd never have predicted I'd go out with him willingly a week ago, but things have changed between us. Not drastically—but enough. The gnarled weed grown from hatred has been trimmed down to reveal the fresh, spring green beneath.
And with enough nourishment, it might even blossom into a garden.
Running my hands over the silky, burgundy gown with its high slit on my right hip, I check myself out in the full-length mirror again. I'm not sure where Asher is taking me tonight. Out of caution, I've dressed in something formal without being pretentious. For all I know, he could be dragging me to a bar like Topher's.
Right. Don't get too fuzzy-headed, Camila. This could be another one of his plans.
Frowning as some of my giddiness fades, I retrieve the black clutch I've stuffed my phone and wallet inside. I doubt I'll need either, but I'm the type to be prepared.
On impulse, I check my phone. Mom still hasn't messaged me. She's been giving me the cold shoulder since the time that I picked out my wedding dress. I have to tell her eventually. It's easy to ignore …
I mean, Asher hasn't even picked a day for the ceremony.
Nothing is set in stone.
And yet …
My fingers wind together until I'm rubbing the engagement ring. I've adapted to the feel of the large diamond quicker than I want to admit.
'Camila," Asher calls, tapping on my door. I whirl around as he opens it. I'm quick enough that I catch the way he ravages me with his eyes. They rake over me, absorbing how my dress clings to my curves, lingering on the hint of cleavage before reaching my face. He sees that I've seen his desire and smiles.
'You look incredible, ptichka."
Swelling at his compliment, I grab the hem of my dress, giving it a little swish. 'Thank you." You're not so bad yourself, I think as I eyeball him. He's dressed in black trousers that grip his muscular thighs. His jacket is the same gray as a thundercloud, the shoulders accented by strips of brown suede. He must have everything tailored, because there's no way any store sells clothing that can fit his wide shoulders without hanging like a tent on his slim waist.
He checks his watch, and I glimpse the now familiar sight of his prayer beads. 'We need to go; the show starts soon."
'Show?" I ask curiously.
Grinning slyly, he motions for me to follow him out of the bedroom. 'Keeping the details of our date a secret wasn't my intention, but now, I think I'm enjoying it."
'How about that," I tease. 'The man who blindfolded me for fun enjoys keeping me in the dark."
I almost bite my lips as soon as the words leave my mouth. Flirting with him feels shockingly easy.
Asher stops short, giving me a long look that sets the hairs on my neck into prickling rows. But the look is different now. Where he once looked at me with the blank concentration of a lion stalking his prey, there's something else in his gaze. Something that reminds me of that kiss in the kitchen.
'I thought we'd moved on from that," he says.
'You didn't exactly apologize." I swallow.
'I'm not going to now either." He shows his back to me as he descends the stairs to the first floor. Pouting at his attitude, I follow him while keeping my thoughts to myself. Poking the bear isn't wise, I know that … But as much as things have shifted between us, I can't forget the terrible things Asher has done.
Forgive them, maybe.
But never forget.
Layla meets us by the front door. She's not alone; Ollie is at her side. Both of them smile at me, though Ollie is barely controlling herself. If she wasn't being watched by Layla, I'm sure she'd be dancing.
When she catches my eye, she mouths good luck!
My cheeks burn wildly. Good luck ... Good luck for what? It's just a date, one that's for show to convince people we're legitimately in love, so our marriage seems real.
'Here, devushka," Layla says as she hands me a thick black shawl. 'In case you get cold."
'Thank you." I wrap it tightly around my bare shoulders, enjoying the warmth of the soft material.
Both girls incline their heads to Asher as he opens the door. I move through, my heart starting to race at the approaching freedom. I haven't been outside in days. The black Escalade is parked on the paved stones. Surrounding it are five men—Asher's soldiers. I recognize Kostya immediately, but none of the others.
The way they fix their eyes on me curdles my blood. Asher doesn't notice. He strides forward, looking at each of them one by one. 'Follow us closely," he instructs in a grim voice. 'It's possible Yannick will try something."
'Yes, pakhan," they say unanimously.
Asher opens the passenger door for me. Unlike my last time in the car, we're alone inside. He straps himself into the driver's seat, casting me a tiny grin.
'Ready?" he asks.
'Yeah, definitely." Buckling myself in, I turn around to watch the mansion vanish behind us.
Deep down, I wish that this would be the last time I ever saw it.
It's not a long drive before we're in the city. Pressing my nose to the window, I try to figure out where we're going. I'm freed of wondering for long, because the Capitol Theater has such a massive marquee you can spot it before you reach the valet.
Every square inch of my brain lights up at the sight.
'No way!" I exclaim. 'You're kidding."
'I'm not." Asher chuckles as he parks the car. My door opens; the valet starts approaching, but Asher muscles in. He extends his hand to me as the young man in his oversized red vest hovers on the curb, flustered by the intervention.
'This way, Camila."
Setting my fingers in his big hand, I'm pulled from the car. Asher cradles the small of my back to make sure I don't trip on the drop down to the sidewalk. His touch creates little waves of desire in my tummy. They remain when he releases me.
'Asher, this is wonderful. I love the ballet."
'That's why I chose it." Smirking proudly, he ushers me into the building.
As a child, whenever I was in the vicinity of the theater, I'd gaze at it longingly, imagining myself twirling across the stage. As a young adult, I'd plot out ways to afford a ticket to a show. Each time I scraped up enough, real-life problems would snatch the extra money away.
But now I'm here.
