A Reputation For Revenge. Jennie Lucas
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that her baby sister had done something important, something difficult, all by herself? Josie, her usually unflappable sister would blurt out, how did you do this? You’re such a genius!
Josie smiled to herself, picturing the sweetness of that moment. Then she looked down at her naked body, pink with heat from the shower. Time to do her part, but maybe it wouldn’t be so awful after all. How hard could it be, to get dressed in a fancy wedding gown, and marry a rich, handsome prince?
Pulling the white shift dress off the hanger, she stepped into it. Pulling it up her thighs, she gasped at the feel of the sensual fabric against her skin. It was a little short, though.
Josie frowned, looking down. It only reached to her mid-thigh. Maybe it would be all right, though. She reached back for the zipper. As long as it wasn’t…
Tight. She stopped. The zipper wouldn’t zip. Holding her breath, she sucked in her belly. Nervously, she moved the zipper up inch by inch, afraid she’d break it and ruin the expensive dress. Finally the zipper closed. She looked at herself in the mirror.
Her full breasts were pushed up by the tight dress, practically exploding out of the neckline. She looked way too grown-up and, well, busty. Bree would never have let her leave the house like this in a million years.
But it was either this or the dirty clothes. She decided she could live with tight. She’d just have to be careful not to bust a seam every time she moved.
Going to her backpack in mincing steps, she grabbed a brush and brushed her wet brown hair down her shoulders, leaving traces of dampness against the silk. She put on her pink flip-flops—it was either that or fuzzy slippers, and she was in Hawaii, after all—and some tinted lip balm. She left the bedroom with as much elegance as she could muster, her head held high.
Tottering down the stairs to the bottom floor of the penthouse, Josie went through the rooms until she finally found her way to the rooftop pool, with the help of the smiling housekeeper she’d found in the big kitchen. “That way, miss. Down the hall and through the salon.”
The salon?
Josie went through a large room with a grand piano, then through the sliding door to the rooftop pool. She saw Kasimir at a large table, still dressed in his severely black suit, leaning back in his chair. He was talking on the phone, but when he saw her, his eyes widened.
Nervously, Josie walked along the edge of the pool towards him. She had to sway her hips unnaturally to move forward, and she felt a bead of sweat suddenly form between her breasts. The sun felt hot against her skin.
Or maybe it was just the way her bridegroom was looking at her.
“I’ll talk to you later,” he breathed to the person on the phone, never looking away from Josie, and he rose to his feet. His gaze seemed shocked as it traveled up and down her body. “What are you wearing?”
“The wedding dress. That you gave me. Should I have not?”
“That—” his voice sounded strangled “—is the dress I left you?”
“Yeah, um, it’s a little tight,” she said, her cheeks burning. She wasn’t used to being the center of any man’s attention, let alone a man like Prince Kasimir Xendzov. Then she bit her lip, afraid she’d sounded like she was complaining. “But it was really thoughtful of you to get me a wedding dress,” she added quickly.
He slowly looked her up and down. “You look…”
She waited unhappily for his next word.
“… fine,” he finished huskily, and he pulled out a chair for her. “Please sit.”
Fine? She exhaled. Fine. She could live with fine. “Thanks.”
But could she sit down? Clutching the edges of the short hem, she sat down carefully. The expensive craftsmanship paid off. The seams held. She exhaled.
Until, looking down, she saw she was flashing way too much skin. With the dress tugged so hard downward, her breasts were thrust up even higher, and the fabric now just barely covered her nipples for decency. Trying to simultaneously pull the dress higher over her breasts and lower over her thighs, she bit her lip, glancing up in chagrin.
Fortunately, to her relief, as he sat down across the table from her, Kasimir’s gaze seemed careful not to drop below her eyes. He indicated the lunch spread across the table. “You’ve come at the perfect time.”
She looked at the chicken salad, fresh fruit and big rolls of crusty bread. It all looked delicious. But even Chanel craftsmanship would only go so far. “I probably shouldn’t,” she said glumly.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You must be starving. You fell asleep before breakfast. You’ve not had a decent meal for days.” Taking a plate, he started to load it with a bit of everything. “We can’t have you fainting during our wedding this afternoon.”
She almost laughed aloud. Her? Faint from hunger?
Food had always been Josie’s guilty pleasure. She felt self-conscious about the extra pounds she carried around, sure, but not enough to give up the pastries and candy she loved. Unlike Bree, who boringly ate the same healthy salad and nuts and fish every day, Josie loved trying exotic new cuisine. Maybe she didn’t have the money or courage to travel around the world, but eating at a Thai or Mexican or Indian restaurant was almost as good, wasn’t it? Especially when she found a half-price coupon. She looked at the delicious meal in front of her. And this was even better than half price!
She gave him a sudden grin. “Who says there’s no such thing as a free lunch, huh?”
“Glad you understand.” Placing the full plate in front of her, Kasimir gave her a wicked grin. “You are going to be my wife, Josie. That means, as long as you are mine, all you will know—is pleasure.”
Their eyes locked, and she felt that strange flutter in her belly—a flutter that had nothing to do with cookies, couscous or even chocolate. “Okay,” she whispered as heat pulsed through her body. She unconsciously licked her lips. “If you insist.”
“I’ll admit the dress is a bit tight. Women’s fashions are often a mystery to me,” he said huskily. “I very rarely pay attention to them—except when I’m taking them off.”
“I bet,” she said shyly, shaking a little. Could he see that she was a virgin with zero sexual experience? Could he tell? Suddenly unable to meet his eyes, she dropped her own back to her plate. Even across the table, he felt so close to her. And too good-looking. Why did he have to be so good-looking? Not to mention sophisticated and powerful. He looked like a million bucks in that dark vested suit.
Sitting back in his chair, he filled himself a plate, then pushed a pile of papers towards her. “You need to sign this.”
“What is it?”
“Our prenuptial agreement.”
“Fantastic,” she said, looking up in relief.
His eyebrows raised. “Not the usual reaction I’d expect.”
“Remember, I want to keep our arrangement nice and official.” She started reading through the first pages, pausing to sign and initial in places. As she read, she took a bite of a crusty bread, then a nibble of the ginger chicken salad. It was surprisingly good, with carrots, lettuce and cilantro. She ate some more. “Have you found my sister yet?”
“I might have an idea where Vladimir could have taken her.”
“Where?”
“I’ll look into it further.” He tilted his head. “After we are married.”
“Oh. Right. The deal.” She took a deep breath. “But she’s safe?”
He snorted. “What do you think?”
She looked up. “You think she is?”
“She is crafty.