Page 109 of The Illusion
I knock on Devon's door. "Hey. You almost ready?"
"Come in," she calls.
I open the door and stop. Devon is standing in front of her full-length mirror, adjusting a black dress that hugs every perfect line of her body. But that's not what makes me stare. She's wearing Julie's shoes. The black Louboutin’s. The ones with the red soles that Julie wore to our disastrous anniversary dinner. Now Devon is wearing them. They fit her perfectly and look sexy as fuck.
"What do you think?" Devon asks, turning to face me. She's also wearing one of Julie's jackets—a cropped black blazer that I recognize as one of Julie’s signature pieces. On Devon, it looks completely different than it ever did on my wife. Sharper. Sexier.
"You're wearing her clothes," I say, and my voice comes out rougher than I intended.
Devon smiles. "Just the shoes and the jacket. I would've worn more, but Julie's bigger than me so nothing else fits."
Julieisbigger than Devon—taller and curvier. It's not an insult, objectively. Julie is gorgeous. But the way Devon says it, with that little smile playing at her lips, makes it one. And I fucking love it.
I cross the room and pull her against me, my hands sliding down to grip her ass through the thin fabric of her dress. "You look incredible."
"Yeah?" She tilts her head back, her eyes dark and knowing. "You like seeing me in her things?"
"I like the subtle fuck you to Julie. But mostly, I like looking at you in anything." I kiss her neck, just below her ear. "Or nothing at all.”
She laughs, low and breathy. "We have a reservation. You're the one who wanted to take me out."
"I know." I force myself to step back, even though what I really want is to strip that dress off her right now and fuck her on her bed. "Come on. Let's go."
The drive to Canlis takes twenty minutes. I can feel Devon watching me as I drive.
"Where are we going?" she asks.
"You'll see."
"Mysterious." She reaches over and rests her hand on my thigh, her fingers tracing small circles that make it hard to focus on the road. "I like it."
I cover her hand with mine, pressing it harder against my leg. "Patience, baby."
When we pull up to the restaurant, Devon's eyes widen. "Canlis? Asher, this place is?—"
"I know." I hand my keys to the valet and come around to open her door. "Only the best for you."
She takes my hand and steps out, and I watch the way she moves in Julie's shoes. Confident. Graceful. Like she was born to wear expensive things and be looked at. Inside, the maître d' greets us with professional warmth. "Mr. Stevens. Your private dining room is ready."
"Thank you."
I smile when he opens the door and we follow him into the room where I brought Julie for my father’s approval. Devon walks in and turns in a slow circle, taking it all in. "This is beautiful."
"It is." I pull out her chair, the chair Julie sat in, and wait for her to sit. Then I take my seat across from her. My father's seat. The symmetry is perfect.
"Have you been here before?" Devon asks, running her fingers along the edge of the table.
"Several times. The last time, I was with Julie to introduce her to my father.”
Her eyes sharpen with interest. "Really?"
“He had me bring her here after we got engaged. To approve her." I pick up the wine list, not really looking at it. "He sat where I'm sitting now. She sat where you are."
Devon leans back in her chair, a slow smile spreading across her face. "And what did he think of her that night? Was he already thinking she invented the wheel?"
I bark out a laugh. “Not that night, no. He called her acceptable." I set the wine list down and meet her eyes. "He said she was reasonable. Appropriate. The kind of woman who wouldn't embarrass the family."
"How romantic."
