Page 35 of Ruthless Dream

I don’t know what Adeline had to do to get us on the list, but she did it. If I’m able to make new connections, then I’ll be forced to start thinking of her as my lucky charm.

Though, who am I kidding? She already is.

I open the door before she knocks again.

I fix my cuff sleeves. She’s pale, her dark eyes taking up most of her face. “Come on, we don’t want to be late.”

She’s made up, her hair and makeup done. The jeans aren’t going to work, though.

“Leave the door open,” I say when she tries to lock herself in the bathroom.

She slams the door shut. It takes nothing but a shove of my shoulder to pry it back open; the thing is so cheap.

“Are you fucking kidding me!” she yells, covering her breasts.

I lean against the frame. “Do you ever wear a bra?”

“Do you know anything about dresses?” she huffs.

I shrug. Guess I don’t.

“Move!” she orders. But I’m not inclined now that I’ve gotten an eyeful of her curves.

She huffs under her breath again, stomping her foot. I keep my own feet rooted to the floor, fighting the urge to pull her into the living room and flip her over the couch. Spank her fucking arse until it’s red, and make sure she’s uncomfortable the entire ride to the fundraiser.

She turns away from me, trying to scoot out of the mirror so I can’t catch her reflection either, but it’s all in vain. I watch her move, pulling out a white floor length gown.

“You’re fucking out of your mind.” I cough. “You’re not wearing that.”

Adeline shoots me a furious look over her shoulder. “I thought we already agreed you know nothing about fashion.”

“Your fucking arse is on display.” I cross my arms, my shoulder digging into the doorframe. The white dress is a halter, but the back dips so low there’s little left to the imagination.

Adeline stares at her reflection. When I think of scandalous, I think of red. Of that scrap of black material she wore when Jack attacked her.

White means purity.

She’s nothing but a sinful dream.

“I’m going to drive us tonight,” she says, struggling with her shoe. The dress is so tight it threatens her movements. I bend down, grabbing her foot.

“What no chauffeur?” I mock. I’ve already seen texts from her father. He’s aware that Jack has disappeared. She’s got a new security detail. I planned on one of her fleet vehicles driving us tonight.

Adeline takes in a deep breath and rolls her shoulders back. She does this often, like she’s enduring my presence.

I finish buckling the strap of her heel, and my hand crawls up her dress, pinching her arse.

She smacks me, stumbling back.

I smirk and grab her left foot to put on her other shoe.

“I like driving,” she blurts, and I pause. Wasn’t she bred to be a passenger princess? “I find it soothing.”

The traffic in this city is the opposite of soothing.

I smooth the skirt of her dress as I stand back up. “Are you stressed about something?”

I receive a classic Adeline look. Her face pulls down, her eyes roll in disdain. “I’ve had a long crappy week and now I’m in a ballgown. I’m going to be driving tonight, and you will be silent because those are the car rules.”