21: Harriet.

The Halloween party is in full swing.

And I'm dressed like a princess.

Part of me can't believe Locke actually convinced me, but then again, is there anything he can't convince me of? I watch him from across the room now, pulse fluttering in my wrists and throat. Between my thighs. On his way back to me from the bar, he's been waylaid by some employees who are giving him a good-natured ribbing about his Prince Charming costume. He's laughing at their jokes, not self-conscious about his attire in the slightest. How could he be anything but confident after my reaction to seeing him dressed like a fictional prince for the first time? I can still taste his hot, frothy pleasure in my mouth. Hear his moans in my ears.

Am I really going to marry this man?

Do dreams come true to this degree?

I am going to be living, eating, sleeping and breathing my obsession very soon.

And I don't think my conscience is strong enough to stop me anymore. Not when I've gotten to know the real man, gotten to kn