Unleashed: Volume 3 (Unleashed #3) (18 page)

“It’s so
beautiful!”

I picked it up and
placed it along her skin, the rubies and diamonds sparkling against
her strawberries and cream complexion. She lifted her hair and I
clasped it in back.

“Let me see.” I
took a step away again so I could take all of her in.

She looked at me, her
eyes dreamy and filled with love, the jewels glittering at her
throat, her naked, pink body exposed and perfect for me to ravish.

“Do you know how
beautiful you are?” I asked, husky.

She smiled, looking
down, shy again. “You make me feel beautiful.”

“You’re so much
more beautiful than any piece of jewelry. You make the diamonds look
dull.” Wrapping a hand around her low back, I leaned down for a
kiss. I couldn’t resist one hand up to the soft mound of her
breast, my fingers finding the sensitive bud at the tip. At the low
sound in her throat, I closed my eyes and rested my forehead to hers.
I had to stop myself. I had to head to the party.

But I wouldn’t fight
this any longer. I’d surrender to the madness. If insanity felt
this amazing, I was all for it.

“I have to go,” I
said, my voice laden with disappointment.

“You probably have to
put on some clothes first.” Kara sounded disappointed, too.

“I guess I have to.”
I grinned at her.

Freshly shaved, tuxedo
on, hair combed, I was ready in ten minutes. Kara still sat on the
bed where she’d lazily watched me get ready. I gave her one more
kiss on her forehead.

“Join me soon?”

“Yes.” She nodded,
smiling. “In about an hour.”

“I can’t wait.”

I really couldn’t. I
wanted to show her everything, the glamour and festivity of the gala,
and then anything and everything else she might enjoy for the rest of
our lives. We had so much to do together, so much ahead of us.
Because this time, I wasn’t letting go. I finally had her, the one
I’d always wanted. The only woman I’d ever loved.

I loved her. I knew
that now. And tonight I’d tell her.

Kara

I watched Declan leave
the hotel room in a daze. What had he done to me? Had anyone ever
lost their mind, cause of insanity multiple intense orgasms? What a
way to go! You’d lose your grip on reality with such a huge smile
on your face.

I didn’t think I’d
ever recover. Good thing I’d never have to try. This was real, what
we had. I loved him and he loved me. I knew he did, in every fiber of
my being. It was in the way he touched me, held me, kissed me, made
love to me. We belonged together. And now nothing stood in our way.

I walked over to the
opulent bathroom and sat down on a satin pedestal at a three-way
mirror. It was set up for some serious work to take place, the
lighting, the space, you could really lay out all of your artist’s
tools and devote time to perfecting your image. In a soft, fluffy
robe, I applied lotions and powders and grinned at my reflection from
ear to ear. Glowing like I was, I felt like I didn’t need any
make-up at all. Typically critical of myself, tonight I could tell I
looked radiant. Especially wearing his necklace.

I’d never seen
anything so stunning. I had no idea what it cost. I didn’t want to
know, I’d be too scared to wear it and I never wanted to take it
off. The diamonds caught the light and sparkled like sunshine around
my neck. The rubies would accent the deep red of my dress perfectly.
And Declan had claimed I looked like the finest gem of all.

All those worries about
not fitting into his world—they were gone. First of all, I didn’t
care anymore. All that mattered was Declan and he loved me so why did
the opinions of other snobby people affect me in the least? Second of
all, on Declan’s arm, the world was my oyster. He was a VIP host
tonight, the founder of one of the charities being celebrated at the
gala, and I was his guest.

This man took me places
I’d never dreamed I’d go, and I didn’t just mean fancy parties.
Today we’d never even left the hotel room but I’d been
transported, experiencing emotions and intense pleasure I’d never
imagined. The things he’d done to me, that I’d let him do to me
and loved over the past week? I was over feeling sheepish, shy,
shocked about it all. When you loved each other, everything felt
intense. No wonder I responded to him like butter in a heat wave, he
was my soul mate. This was how it was supposed to be.

I blow-dried and styled
my hair, smiling the whole time. You’d think my cheeks would start
to hurt after a while, but maybe all those years with too few smiles
were balancing things out now. I felt absolutely fine, no end in
sight. I brushed my hair out straight and left it down, simple. It
looked sleek and full, the highlights I’d gotten last week adding
depth and shine and movement.

It took a while to work
myself into the dress. The corset presented a challenge. I had no
maid or stepsister to pull me into it tight. Instead, I wiggled and
twisted and managed as best I could. But once I finally got myself
all hooked up, maneuvered the dress over my head, zipped up the side,
slipped on my heels, that smile broke out over my face all over
again.

Holy shit, I looked
like a bombshell. From every angle in the mirror I shone radiant and
divine. With high, high heels and the drape and cut of the dress my
legs looked a mile long. I swept my hair off my shoulder and watched
the diamond necklace shimmer and sparkle.

At that moment, I
believed in fairy tales. Hope bloomed full in my heart. This might
have started as a bargain, an agreement based on an exchange of sex
and money. But now it was much more than that. Dreams did come true.
We understood each other in a way no one else ever could. Everything
was going to work out and I was the luckiest girl on earth.

Searching for my purse,
I found my cell phone and realized I hadn’t checked it in over a
day. I’d been too busy enjoying myself with Declan. I had a
voicemail from yesterday. It was our ranch foreman, Bill. His voice
sounded tired. He apologized for bothering me. He said he’d hoped
he wouldn’t have to talk to me until I got back from my trip. But
then a couple of guys from the bank had come out to the ranch. We had
until five p.m. Monday to come up with the money or they were
foreclosing. The time had come.

Panic set in quick, a
tight grip on my throat. I took a deep breath and told myself to calm
down. That wasn’t my reality anymore. Declan was real and he cared
about me, deeply. He was going to help me out and this would simply
be a nightmare I’d wake up from, clean and simple in the morning
sunshine. I couldn’t wait.

Then I saw a text message from a
couple of hours ago. Lymon, the toad man:

You have 24 hours.

What did he think he
was, a terrorist? Was he issuing a bomb threat? I tried to calm
myself down by rolling my eyes, telling myself this guy was
over-the-top crazy. He was such a goon, harassing me for my answer.
I’d have him out of my hair soon enough, too. But his text message
sent a cold chill down my gorgeously-dressed spine.

I put the phone down
quick. He didn’t get to ruin my night on the town with my man. And
I didn’t need him anyway. He didn’t even deserve a response.

But as Vladimir drove
me over to the Met, I felt unsettled and nervous. My joie de vivre of
moments ago had fled and now I was just a plain rancher’s daughter
heading out to an overwhelmingly fancy party. I had no idea what to
expect. Would there be paparazzi there with cameras? Celebrities?
People with microphones trying to talk to me?

Suddenly, my stomach
balled in a knot and I wished I were headed anywhere else. I couldn’t
catch a deep enough breath in the stupid corset and I felt
light-headed. What I wouldn’t give to be at home sitting out on my
porch swing looking at the stars and humming to myself. Or settling
into my old, worn, soft couch with a comfy blanket, hot cocoa and a
delicious romance novel.

“I could bring you
around the side entrance,” Vladimir offered.

“Oh, yes, thank you,”
I exhaled with relief. He must have seen the panic in my eyes. As we
drove slowly past, the front entrance looked much worse than I’d
imagined, with a literal red carpet up miles of stairs thronged with
photographers. I’d never have made it up past the first step.

The side door was much
quieter, just a few uniformed men and a bitchy-looking woman all in
black with her hair swept up and an earpiece like the secret service.

“Name, please?” She
eyed me disdainfully, holding a slim, silver iPad with what I figured
was the guest list. No clipboard for this lady, only the latest issue
Apple gadget would do.

“Kara Brooks.” It
came out in a whisper and I had to repeat myself over the emerging
din of the party. Voices, glasses clinking, laughter, a string
quartet. I wanted to vomit.

“You may proceed.”
She checked me off or whatever and stepped up to the next guests. She
sure seemed to give them a warmer welcome.

The minute I walked in
I knew my hair was all wrong. Every woman I saw had their hair swept
up in some kind of a glamorous twist. One woman had sticks poking out
of her bun like skewers. I’d been a fool to leave mine down like I
was headed to a parking lot kegger. Why hadn’t I thought of that?

Also, I didn’t see a
single other woman in red. Silver, gold and lots and lots of black. I
remembered a novel we’d read back in high school English class
about an adulterous woman who’d had to wear the scarlet letter A on
all her clothing. I felt about that scandalous and ostracized,
standing there head-to-toe in scarlet.

For a moment, I
considered turning and running. I probably wouldn’t get very far
though, not with the heels I was wearing plus the corset restricting
my breath. What I wouldn’t have given for a pair of old cowboy
boots, jeans and a t-shirt. Then I could have gotten the hell out of
there.

I needed to find Declan
and I needed to find him fast. I should have texted him before I left
the hotel room. After seeing toad man’s message though, I’d
practically thrown the phone out the window. I had nothing with me
but my hotel room key card and a $20 bill. Tucked into my corset,
because I was that classy.

But a text would have
let Declan know I was on my way and he could have been looking for
me. Under these high, ornate ceilings, staircases leading up and down
and around, corridors and masterpieces hung everywhere I turned. I
felt dizzy, like I was in Halloween fun house of mirrors. Everyone
looked a little like Declan in impeccable black tuxedos, but no one
actually was Declan.

I accepted a slender
flute of champagne from a waiter and faded back into a corner. I’d
have less chance of finding Declan there, but at least I’d be less
visible, too. I felt like the country peasant who’d snuck her way
into Versailles. Stick figure models strut past, a couple of them
casting cold glances in my direction. I probably ate more in a day
than they did in a week.

Where was Declan? Maybe
I could head to the bathroom, that would give me something to do. And
maybe I’d find him on the way. Laughing throngs and men with their
hair slicked back and waiters with silver trays bearing
unrecognizable tidbits surrounded me at every angle. I needed air.

Around a corner, I
finally broke free of it all. A bit secluded, away from the rest, I
leaned against a wall, put my hands on my thighs and breathed.
Slowly, carefully, just breathed. No sense in having a panic attack
at the type of event people longed to attend. I had to get a grip.

Once I stood up, things
got much worse. I wasn’t alone in the corridor. Now I saw a couple
much further down. At first I hadn’t noticed, I’d been too dizzy.
But now I could make them out.

The woman was Courtney,
that much I could tell instantly. Her raven black hair matched her
blacker-than-black gown, a diamond choker necklace unfortunately not
quite tight enough as she still seemed fully alive and kicking. I
didn’t know if I was making things up or if it really was the case,
but I swore I could see her fingernails blood red as they made their
way along a man’s back. A wide, broad back in a black tuxedo.

The pit in my stomach
formed fast and furious. I told myself to look away, but like a big
rig wreck on a highway you didn’t want to look at it, but you
almost always did. It probably wasn’t Declan. From this far away, I
couldn’t tell. They weren’t in the brightest spot, tucked away in
a dim corridor, a quiet corner. The kind of place you’d go for a
romantic moment.

Courtney saw me then,
her eyes alighting on mine like a hawk’s. She splayed her fingers
along his back and she lit up with a wicked, triumphant smile. It was
then that I knew, without a doubt, the man was Declan.

He turned slightly and
I could make out his profile, the strong jaw, the stubble all gone
from his recent shave back when he was in the hotel room with me. But
now he wasn’t with me, he was with Courtney in a dark hallway far
away from the throng, intimate and close.

She fixed me with her
stare as she twined her fingers in Declan’s thick, black hair. Then
she looked up at him and leaned in for a kiss. He didn’t move,
didn’t back away, didn’t shove her off of him like a disgusting
maggot. No, he kissed her back.

Then I looked away.
There was only so much you could take. Reeling, feeling like I’d
been punched in the stomach, I somehow stumbled back into the party
and toward the front entrance. Air, I needed air. I must have looked
bad. A waiter asked me if I needed some help.

“Out,” I managed
looking toward the door. He took my arm and guided me to the doors.
Once I got out into the warm night air, I didn’t stop. I ran down
the steps and down the steps and down more steps. How many freaking
steps were there outside the Met? Down at the street, I dove into a
taxi cab. The driver didn’t seem phased. I guessed that was the
up-side of New York: it took a lot more than a speeding bullet of a
girl in a red ball gown to cause a scene.