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I walk out of my room sassily when I’m dolled up in the figure-hugging cocktail dress. It’s knee length, has a tight pencil skirt and a bust popping upper bodice that has off the shoulder straps and a serious amount of boning to give me a vampy tailored body. I think I’m even more in love with it now than I was the first time I tried it on and it’s one of those dresses that look bland on the hanger, but stunning on a body. It’s definitely not something I would have worn in the past months, to go to some seedy bar with seedy friends, but Arrick’s friends hang out in upmarket, classier clubs, and this dress will totally fit in.

“Wow! You look stunning.” He’s on his feet in a flash, his eyes devouring me in a way that is not Arry at all, and I get that he suddenly feels uncomfortable when his eyes drop away with a slight tense of his jawline. He picks up his jacket and slides it on while avoiding looking at me, then I hand hi