Undeniable Bachelor (Bachelor Tower Series Book 3)

by Ruth Cardello

  The curtain drops between us again.

  “It doesn’t have a size tag on it. I hope it fits.” The end of the dress rests on the floor while she steps into it. I hear it sliding up over her skin and drive myself nearly mad, imagining my lips following that same trail. “I cannot get away with wearing something like this. It’s too—” She pushes the curtain back.

  Her words are cut off by my loud whistle of approval as she steps out. “Sexy as hell.” The dress falls well above her knee, dangerously short. Easy to slide a hand up her thigh, push her lace panties to the side and tease her clit until her legs shake. The neckline plunges low enough to leave nothing to the imagination. Her perky breasts are barely covered. Holding up the dress is a crisscross style thin strap that would be easy to rip away. This dress is a fuck-me dress. The kind I like. It’s designed to set the imagination on fire with possibilities.

  No way in hell is the fuck-me message going out to any man but me.

  “I don’t know about that one,” I say, furrowing my brows as though I’m considering it. The only thing I’m actually considering is bending her over and parting her legs. Pulling that dress up and plunging my cock deep inside her. “It’s too . . .”

  “That’s what I thought. This dress is for someone with more—” She makes some weird gesture toward her body.

  “You have plenty of everything needed for that dress. It’s just not the dress for you.”

  Miguel reads my expression and rolls his eyes. I’ll bring him a hundred wealthy clients if he keeps his mouth shut. “Try the off-the-shoulder red one. The dress is a heavy silk and satin. Strapless with a corset. It has a fishtail silhouette. Beautiful and appropriate for a charity event.”

  I jut my chin out in the direction of the small changing room and hand her the second dress. “He knows his stuff.” There’s more fabric in this one.

  Out of the black dress. Into the red. “This one doesn’t have a size on it either. And neither have prize tags. I hope I can afford them.”

  “The right dress is worth the expense.”

  “Says a rich man. The rest of us like to continue to eat as well.”

  She makes a less than pleased sound.

  “How’s the dress?”

  “I don’t want to say.”

  If Miguel weren’t hovering, this would be playing out very differently, but I tell myself it’s a good thing it isn’t. Didn’t I tell myself that my continued association with her was only to ensure her safety?

  She’s an innocent.

  Even if I weren’t in the States for business, I wouldn’t be a good choice for her. I like women—as in plural. Variety is all that keeps things interesting. Sure, she has me drooling today, but a week from now? I’d be moving on to the next woman and she’d hate me.

  So, I ask myself—what the hell am I doing here?

  “I can’t zip it,” she says in a low tone.

  “It won’t go over your hips?”

  Audible gasp. “Say it again, and I’ll beat you with one of these hangers.”

  I laugh.

  She huffs and slides the curtain to the side, stepping out backward. The smooth skin of her back fully exposed right down to the lace top of her thong. “Shut up and zip me.”

  I hesitate for a moment, drinking her in. She is holding her hair tucked over one shoulder.

  “Don’t tell me you don’t know how. Just think about what you normally do . . . this is the reverse.” The look she gives me over her shoulder starts off teasing then heats up.

  This is already the opposite of what I do. The push and pull of us is a new experience for me. So is my restraint.

  I step closer and zip her up. She spins and drops her hair. “Thanks.”

  Miguel is back. He adjusts the waist of the dress. “A beaded clutch. High heels. No necklace. Hair up.” He ticks the list off on his fingers.

  She turns toward the mirror, then meets my eyes in it. “You agree? This is the one? Does it look all right?” She’s looking at me as though she’s standing on the edge of a cliff and my answer will either pull her back or shove her off.

  I open my mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. I imagine her, on my arm at a royal function. The visual spooks me.

  That’s not where this is going.

  Miguel answers flatly. “It seems that we’ve found your dress.”

  “You’re sure?” Savannah gestures at the rack of dresses and raises her brows high. “There are so many others.”

  “It’s not about trying on every dress,” Miguel says with authority. “It’s about recognizing when you find the one that fits.” He gives me a pointed look.

  “He’s right. This is the dress. Look.” I take her hand and guide her toward a full-length, three-sided mirror.

  The only thing sexier than Savannah in this dress is the expression on her face when she gets a look in the mirror. Like she had no idea she could look like this.

  “Oh man.” She runs a hand down her sides and turns a little in each direction to see the dress from every angle. “Look at my ass. It even makes my ass look good.”

  Miguel chokes on what might have been a laugh before adding in a serious tone, “It suits you.”

  “Oh, boy. Now for the big question.” Her cheeks redden to match the dress. “How much is it? But before you tell me, I want you to know I appreciate you letting me try it on. I’ll never forget how it made me look.”

  Miguel’s eyes dart to me, and I give a nearly imperceptible nod of my approval. “I’m happy to give you a very fair price.” He waves her back into the changing room and disappears to the back room.

  Savannah steps into the changing room and closes the curtain. “Brice, I don’t know if Miguel and I have the same idea of a fair price.”

  “What kind of charity event is it?” I move closer to the curtain that separates us. “Why are you going?”

  “Dammit,” she says. She parts the curtain and puts her back to me, sweeping her hair away so I can unzip the gown. My hand lingers at the top of the zipper, and I hear her draw in a sharp breath as my hand brushes over her bare skin.

  The curtain closes again between us and I ache for her. “You can keep asking, but the answer is none of your business.”

  Miguel shuffles in with several boxes which is a good thing because I’d been about to proclaim that it damn well is my business.

  But it isn’t.

  Savannah emerges with the red dress and hands it to one of Miguel’s staff. “I may be taking that. I hope.”

  Miguel has her try on several pairs of shoes and shows her a small bag he says completes the outfit. “One hundred for the dress and a hundred for the accessories,” Miguel says with a straight face.

  “That’s it? Really? For a dress like that?” Savannah bounces with excitement.

  “Want me to charge you more?” Miguel asks impatiently. Oh, he’s good.

  “No.” She fishes a credit card out of her wallet and slides it to him. Turning toward me she is all smiles. “It’s a new card, but I activated it. Let’s hope it works.”

  “Yes, let’s,” Miguel says as he fiddles with the credit card machine.

  “Can you believe this?” Savannah’s wonderment is refreshing. So many people spend their lives chronically unsatisfied. Unimpressed. But not Savannah.

  Her life would have crushed a lesser person, but somehow she maintained her innocence. It was enough to make a womanizing prince wish he was a better man.

  “Can I believe this? No, I can’t,” I say coolly. I’m annoyed with myself. I swore I wouldn’t let her distract me. How did she become all I can think about?

  My phone vibrates in my pocket. My brother. I wince.

  Line one: your real life is calling.

  If I pick up, we’ll repeat the same conversation we’ve only just had. He wants me home. They all want me to give up this foolishness and fly back.

  “What’s the matter?” Savannah scans my face.

  “Nothing.” I slide my phone back in my pocke
t.

  Miguel steps away.

  “I’m a good listener,” Savannah says. “If Coppertop had a plaque for that, I’d have a wall of them.”

  I shake my head, but my heart warms. I understand why she’s the only one who can make Jay smile. She touches my arm, and all flirtation from earlier is gone. She simply cares, and that’s just as heady.

  I can’t explain my situation to her. I don’t have that luxury, not when the price might be my brother’s freedom. “It’s complicated. I have family responsibilities that are in direct opposition to what I’m trying to do.”

  “I know how that is.”

  I nod. I know she does.

  “I don’t know what the answer is, but I’ve been there. I told you I spent a long time caring for my grandmother. Working and caregiving is about all I did. And people would come up to me and say, that’s so amazing. Look at all you did for her. You must feel great about that. I did and I didn’t. Sometimes it was too much. I blamed her for the choices I made. I blamed her illness for killing my dreams, but I put everything important to me aside. I could have cared for her and carved out a life for myself. Don’t give more than you can give happily. It’s not fair to you and it’s not fair to them. I finally stood up and decided to claim my space in this world.”

  Her words resonate with me. Being royal is a privilege, but one that comes with a price. I played the role I was told I was born for, but now I have a choice. I can continue to bow to duty and tradition, give all of myself over to it, or I can succeed in Boston and release my brother from his arranged marriage. I can claim my space.

  Miguel returns and orders his staff to take the boxes to my car.

  Savannah’s hand drops away. “Should I call a ride or can Charles . . .”

  I give her a look that silences her. “We’ll drop you off on the way to my office.”

  Charles is on the sidewalk with the back door to the car open. Savannah stops before getting in. “Talk about not being what something appears, that place was incredible. I found my dress. And it was cheap.”

  Charles nods his head once. “That is a pleasure to hear.”

  She slides into the car.

  The look Charles gives me is not as warm. I know that look. He doesn’t agree with what I’m doing. That’s okay, I don’t either. “We’ll drop Savannah off first. Then I have to get to the office.”

  He closes the door.

  Once we pull into traffic, I turn to Savannah. “Tell me about this charity event.”

  She shakes her head.

  “Why is it so important to have the right dress?”

  She glances out the window then meets my gaze. “I want to look good.”

  “For whom?”

  She beams. “Me.”

  I raise my hand to her chin, caressing her jaw with my thumb. “Does the event have anything to do with Jana Monroe?”

  She moves to pull her face away, but I don’t let her. When her eyes meet mine again they are flashing with irritation. “If I wanted to discuss it with you, I would. But I don’t.”

  “You will not go to this event on your own. It’s not safe.”

  She takes my hand in hers and pulls it away from her face. “Wow. Last night you told me to be careful of people who might want to control me by separating me from others. Now you think I can’t attend a party on my own? Pot—meet kettle. I’m going to that event, and I’m going alone.”

  I growl and sit back, folding my arms over my chest. “You are the most difficult woman. If someone does kidnap you, they might just drop you off at the next corner.”

  “Then I have nothing to worry about.” She mirrors my stance and turns her face away.

  We don’t speak for the rest of the ride to her apartment. When we park, Charles opens the door on her side. She turns to leave, stops, and looks back at me. “Thank you for helping me find the right dress. I’m sorry I can’t answer your questions. I wish I could.”

  “Don’t go alone, Savannah.”

  Her response is a sad smile that says she’s going to do just that. Then she’s gone.

  On the way to my office, I say, “Charles, I have a few hours of work, then I’m going to that charity event—wherever the hell it is.”

  “Do you think that’s wise, Bricelion?”

  “Wise? No. Necessary? Hell yes.”

  Charles says nothing for a moment then clears his throat. “You’ve never been afraid to break a rule, and I’ve always looked away because it was never with the intention of harming anyone. This woman is putting her life back together after a loss. Be very careful. Don’t become someone you can no longer look in the eye in the mirror.”

  My hands fist at my sides. “I’m trying to keep her safe.”

  “Then perhaps add yourself to the list of what you protect her from. She deserves more than you would offer her.”

  I hate that he’s right.

  I know I should stay away from her.

  I don’t think I can.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Savannah

  Head held high, I walk into the museum lobby. The high ceilings are sloped and arched in odd ways that make them more art than architecture. The modern color scheme and low light create an elegance perfect for a gala. Or so I’ve always imagined. A large glass and metal chandelier hangs from the center of the room and I can’t help but gaze up. No one else seems to be taking in every detail but I don’t want to miss a thing.

  As I pass a floor-length mirror, I smile because I don’t recognize the woman who smiles back at me. Her hair is perfectly shaped in a sophisticated updo. I slip off my jacket. The dress is tight and . . . holy hell, who knew my body could fill out a dress like that? I keep walking because it isn’t vanity that has me staring at myself . . . it’s shock. This is me.

  Finally.

  From my pale pink lipstick down to my shiny pedicure, I’m pulling this off. No one would guess I accidently kicked the person doing my pedicure when she tickled me with that stupid pumice stone. Or that it took me a full hour to blink correctly after I put on these false lashes.

  I vacuumed my apartment in the high heels Miguel sold me, sprinted down the hall to catch the elevator, even took a cab all so I could walk across this lobby with confidence.

  And it’s fucking working.

  The room is lushly decorated, but for once I don’t feel out of place. There are long panels of tulle and twinkling lights so beautiful I’m giddy. My smile is wider than someone normally sports when they’re alone, but I can’t help it. No one on the street would hand me spare change now.

  I spot Jana and make my way to her. She’s a welcomed familiar face in the sea of strangers.

  “You look fantastic,” she says, leaning in and kissing the air just above my cheek. “That dress is stunning. Milano Sana Vons?”

  “Yes.” I’m surprised she knows the name of the designer. “I bought it at this really small tailoring shop for just a hundred dollars. Can you believe that?”

  “I can’t.” She eyes it closely. “It’s perfect for you. Your hair and makeup are perfection as well. How do you feel?”

  “Good. Excited.” I hesitate and then meet her gaze. “A little nervous.”

  “I’d be worried if you weren’t. This is a big step for you. Don’t forget why you’re here.”

  “So you can show me how to speak to people like this.” I twist the gold bracelet on my wrist nervously.

  Jana gives me a long look. “I’m not staying. My only role is to provide you with an opportunity. What you do with it is up to you.”

  “Sink or swim on my own. I can do that.” My breath is quick, and it breaks up my words. I raise my chin and take a calming breath. I’ve made it this far. I’ll make this work.

  “Nothing so final. You are here to practice. Flirt. Talk. Engage. That’s all. Do not go home with one of these men. No matter what they offer, you leave alone.” She gives a little wave to someone across the room.

  “I’m sure that won’t be a problem.” I almost
joke that lecturing a twenty-three-year-old virgin on chastity is about as necessary as advising a vegan to cut down on fatty meats. I’ve got abstinence down to an art. Before the words come out of my mouth, though, I imagine how she’d respond to the joke and bite my bottom lip instead.

  Like some middle school teacher who knows where my mind has gone, her eyes narrow. “This will be a test in temptation. Looking around all starry-eyed and gorgeous in that dress, there will be plenty of offers. You’re here alone. You’re a complete mystery. That is an intoxicating combination for men.”

  So prepare to be hit on? I look around and realize there are men watching me. Holy shit. My stomach flips. This is happening, really happening.

  “The trick to being considered fascinating is to listen more than you speak. Everyone’s favorite topic, whether they realize it or not, is themselves.”

  I know that from working in a bar for years. “Okay.”

  “Enjoy the attention, but don’t give out your number. You’re practicing a skill. No one here matters. Not yet. Learn how to chat casually and move on. It’s no different than learning to tie your shoes or do the latest dance step. Remember, you belong here. You’re here to support the charity, just like everyone else.”

  “For the Shriners Hospital.” I say it as much to remind myself and to prove to her I read her email.

  “Yes. I could have done a breakdown on who are the doctors, the philanthropists, the politicians or the socialites, but that’s also part of what you need to learn—social instincts. If you listen, people tell you who they are. Quick tip, the most influential people here won’t tell you who they are. They don’t have to.”

  “I understand.”

  “I can’t stress enough that valuing yourself means saying no. Turn them down. Walk away. You’ve been telling yourself for a long time there were no opportunities for you. You lived in a way that kept that true. This place is wall-to-wall opportunity. Be the woman they remember not the one they fuck and forget.”

  I’m shocked to hear Jana use such strong language, but I get it. It’s no different than when Jimmy would tell me to fucking watch the door because some out-of-towners were about to run out without paying their tab. Her profanity is an exclamation point. I nod and almost say I swear on a jar of fish eyes.