by M. Malone
Getting ready for tonight shouldn’t be this big of a deal.
Over the past year I’ve gone with Andre to many events, most of them black-tie and I’ve become very familiar with wearing evening gowns.
It helps tremendously that each gown is breathtaking and tailored perfectly to my shape. But still, it’s been an adjustment to go from my jeans and sandals to haute couture and stilettos. An adjustment I think I’ve navigated pretty well.
However, tonight is different. It’s the 23rd annual International Fashion World Gala. Out of all the events we’ve attended together, this will be the first red carpet. After much discussion, Andre agreed to enter therapy to better deal with the fan attack that still haunts him.
But even with all the progress he’s made, this will be the first time he has walked a red carpet since.
“We don’t have to go. I’m more than happy to stay home and avoid wearing these insanely high heels.”
I take a deep breath and spritz myself with some Casey’s Dream. I love the scent he chose for my fragrance. It’s light and summery with just a hint of vanilla.
Andre doesn’t respond. I’m in the bathroom while he’s outside on the bed waiting for me to finish getting ready. Of course, he took only ten minutes to dress and looks like a billion dollars.
“It would also mean I don’t have to put more makeup on this stupid pimple that showed up on my forehead this morning.” I wait to see if he’s going to continue to ignore me.
Finally he responds. “We’re getting ready to launch the next fragrance and marketing thinks this will be good PR.”
“All those PR people can go to hell.” Then I think about it. “Okay, not Cole. He’s so nice. But all the other ones. We don’t have to do anything we don’t want to do.”
“Cole? You mean Mr. Fitzgerald? Why do you call him Cole? You don’t even know him.”
“I know him. He’s a very nice man.”
He still hates it when I call other men by their first names. Although I’m not sure why since he loves it when I call him Mr. Lavin. To be fair he’s usually got me in a very compromising position when I’m calling him that. I think he’d love anything I called him.
He even gets jealous sometimes about the sexy books I read. He says he doesn’t want me to have book boyfriends because he’s my boyfriend. Don’t tell but I secretly kind of love it. It really is cute.
Speaking of which, I definitely don’t want him to see the book I brought along on this trip. It’s this hot bodyguard romance Ariana recommended which would be fine if our security company didn’t employ some of the hottest bodyguards in existence.
Blake Security came highly recommended. But I don’t think Andre realized when he hired them that all their guards look like superheroes.
The man who escorted us to the hotel earlier was named Oskar and looks like Chris Hemsworth’s brawnier cousin.
Ariana would be in heaven.
I swipe on a few more strokes of mascara, amused when Andre comes into the bathroom, still muttering under his breath about Cole. When his arm snakes around my waist, I lean back into his embrace.
It’s still hard to believe a man with so many Hottest Man Alive magazine covers can get so jealous. But it’s true and Andre may be one of the hottest men alive but he’s also my man. He wants me all to himself and I feel exactly the same way about him.
He kisses the side of my head. “We have to attend but I really wish we didn’t. I don’t want to share you with the world tonight. Especially when you’re wearing that dress. I’ll have to fight off men left and right.”
The dress is silver and drapes low in the back. Every time I take a step, the dramatic side slit flashes my entire left leg. It’s breathtaking and makes me feel like a goddess.
“Mmm, it is gorgeous. But it’s your fault it’s so revealing.”
His head lowers and his tongue traces a warm path up toward my ear. “Do you know what it does to me to see you wearing something I designed just for you?”
I shudder as his fingers start sliding south. When I move my hips, his hard erection digs into my back. “I can feel what it does to you.”
His fingers find the zipper on the side of the dress.
The sensation of his fingers on my skin is magic but if I let this continue, then I’ll end up with smeared makeup and love bites all over my neck. And since I’m not sure yet whether Andre really wants to stay home, I need to slow this train down. Because my main interest is in making sure he’s happy.
“That zipper isn’t coming down until I know whether we’re staying in.”
His smile tickles my cheek. “We’re going out.”
I don’t understand why he’s been so insistent that we attend this event. I’d rather wait until he’s truly ready but I think he’s afraid of letting his protégé down. Timothy is receiving the Best New Designer award and I know Andre is really proud of him.
“You’re sure? Because Tim will understand if we don’t come to see him accept his award. He’s been so grateful for all your help and mentorship this year. Let’s just invite him over for dinner next week. I’ll make the chicken and dumplings that he loved last time.”
Andre chuckles. “I promise, I’m fine. Just don’t let go of my hand.”
Sometimes I think this man has no clue just what he means to me. He supports my goals whether it’s finishing my degree or reapplying for a job at Mirage as a junior associate. Another man might not understand why I want to work when he has the means to support me but Andre just gets it.
He just gets me.
I straighten his tie, even though it’s already perfect. Any excuse to touch him will do. I pull him down for a kiss.
“You don’t have to worry about that. I won’t let go. Ever.”
I won’t be letting go until it’s time to go to my grave.
Epilogue
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Hundreds of camera flashes spark as we make our way down the red carpet. Casey’s fingers have to be hurting since I’ve been squeezing her hand this whole time but the smile on her face never falls and most importantly, she doesn’t let go.
“Mr. Lavin! Look this way!”
The panic starts to rise, everything about this eerily reminiscent of the last time I was on a red carpet. Everywhere I turn there are people shouting and the edges of my vision start to recede. Going out tonight was clearly a mistake.
Then Casey squeezes my arm. I look down at her and the chaos falls away and all I see is her. She puts a hand on my cheek and stands on tiptoe for a kiss.
“How did you know I needed that?”
She glances over at me coyly. “Who says I did? I just wanted to kiss my gorgeous boyfriend. If we have to pose for pictures, we might as well give them some that are worth it.”
I laugh at her cheeky reply. She has uncanny radar for when I need her support and offers it unfailingly. As always, she’s looking out for me.
Now I want to look out for her.
Up ahead I see Jason waiting for me. Over his shoulder I catch a glimpse of Ariana, Mya and Olivia Michaels, Casey’s mother. The past week has been a blur due to all the preparations for tonight. But I want Casey to have one night that’s absolutely perfect.
When we reach the middle of the red carpet, I raise my hand. At my signal, twenty people stand up from where they’ve been hidden amongst the photographers and start to play Pachelbel’s Canon. The photographers shout at first but as the word spreads about what’s happening, they settle down, waiting for what’s about to unfold.
“Andre, look! It’s a flash mob!” Casey squeals in delight and points at the makeshift orchestra performing beside us.
Then the first fireworks explode overhead.
She looks up in wonder. “Fireworks? I didn’t know they planned fireworks for tonight.”
When she turns around, I’m on my knees.
For the past few months, I’ve thought long and hard about when I wanted to propose to Casey again. Her words that day in her apartment were
meaningful and revealed a lot about what she truly fears. I know that she loves me and will stay with me no matter what. But that’s not what this proposal is about. At least not for me. I want her to know that I’m choosing her.
And that above all else, I desperately want her to choose me back.
“Cassandra Michaels. You are the most enchanting, exasperating, clumsy, elegant, delightful mass of contradictions I have ever met. I’ve had a hard year but your strength and your kindness are what has sustained me. You give me so much. And now I’m asking you for your hand in marriage. Casey, will you do me the honor of being my wife?”
“Of course, I’ll marry you. I love you–”
Her answer is interrupted when a man in a black and white costume steps out of the crowd and starts performing. I shake my head as I get to my feet.
Casey giggles. “I see you didn’t forget the mime.”
“He was supposed to come out before the orchestra. Why are things always backward with you?”
Her eyes shine as she squeezes my hands. “Because we like to get to the good stuff first. I can’t believe you did this!”
I love how surprised she is by everything. She makes even the most routine things fun. I look forward to experiencing the world through her eyes.
She’s about to say more when she notices her mom in the crowd of people watching. “Oh my god, you brought my mom!”
“Of course I did. I need all the points I can get. I’m already shooting for the stars asking for your hand. You’re way too good for me.”
She looks around at the crowd of people watching and taking pictures. “Are you sure about this? We haven’t been together that long.”
There was a time when the question would have bothered me. I used to think her bouts of uncertainty were because she didn’t trust me or didn’t feel as deeply as I do. But now I understand that just as I have issues to work through, so does Casey. As usual my father’s wisdom showed me the way. We’re puzzle pieces which means we have to work together.
She will be my strength when I need it and I will be her confidence.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything. Most people wait their whole lives to fall in love. I only needed one night.”
Her smile is so bright it could power a city. “You’re never going to let me live that down, huh?”
“No. I’m still not over it. It may have only been one night but I wished it could last forever. So I’m asking you to give me all of your nights. All of your days. All of your love.”
I draw her into my arms, thrilled when she pulls me down for a kiss. The photographers go wild, hooting and catcalling like teenagers. When we finally break for air, Casey blows them a saucy kiss before promptly tripping over the hem of her dress.
She’s still my sweet clumsy girl.
What more could I ask for?
I hope you enjoyed reading ASK ME as much as I enjoyed writing it. Want more? Keep reading for an excerpt of Milo & Mya’s book, BEG ME!
* * *
Author’s Note
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Did you miss Milo & Mya’s story?
* * *
I want this job.
And no one, especially not the office playboy is going to stand in my way. He's cocky and irritating and entirely too good-looking.
So WHY the hell did I just tell him my most shameful secret?
I want her.
Not sure what I did in my past life, but it must have been bad. Because the only woman I want is my co-worker.
My competition.
When I find out she’s never taken a trip to O-town, we make a little wager. Not only will I win the client, but I’ll prove to her that multiple O’s are NOT a myth.
* * *
BEG ME is a standalone romantic comedy that will have you clutching your pearls and laughing until you almost choke!
* * *
Download BEG ME now
* * *
Excerpt of BEG ME
© March 2018 M. Malone
* * *
* * *
Considering how many things have gone wrong tonight, you’d think it couldn’t get much worse. But apparently we haven’t reached our quota on weirdness for the night. Standing in a hotel room alone with Milo while he talks about screaming during sex takes it to a whole different level.
Especially since the way he’s watching me makes me feel he’s not going to just let this go.
“Have you?” he presses again, his eyes locked on mine.
Which is not happening. I’m not talking about orgasms while he stares at me like that. Just not doing it.
“I’m hardly a virgin, Milo.”
His face twists into a grimace. “Jesus, don’t say that.”
“What? I just said–“
“What you said was a bullshit attempt to deflect and not answer. Which tells me everything I need to know.” He runs his hands through his hair looking pissed off. Which makes no sense to me.
“How did we go from discussing your bad behavior at dinner to talking about my love life?” My non-existent love life, I think ruefully.
A guy like Milo probably goes through women like underwear. What would he say if he knew it’s been six months since I’ve been laid?
Or kissed. Or hugged. Or touched.
Great, now he’s got me thinking about how pathetic I am.
“I’m just trying to understand what the fuck is happening in the world that a woman like you is having bad sex. Any man lucky enough to see you naked should be putting in the work to take you to O-town every time.”
Something in my expression must tip him off because suddenly he stops pacing and stares at me. “Mya, you’ve had an orgasm before, haven’t you?”
Now we’ve crossed the line from inappropriate to just straight-up embarrassing.
“Of course I have. Not that it’s any of your business.”
He still looks disturbed but at least he’s no longer looking at me like some kind of space alien. Which is why I have no idea what possesses me to say what I do next.
“Just not while anyone else is there,” I mumble softly.
“Fuck me!” he explodes before whirling around to blink at me in disbelief. His mouth opens and closes several times before he makes a strangled growling sound that has me going instantly wet. “Fucking hell.”
“Fucking isn’t the problem,” I snap, mortification at what I’ve admitted starting to sink in.
Of all the people I could have confided in, why would I tell Milo? For years it’s been my secret shame and the real reason my ex didn’t want to “settle” with me. I’ve read every Cosmo article, tried yoga and hypnosis and even those weird-ass positions in the illustrated Kama Sutra I ordered online. William was so offended when I suggested using a vibrator in bed and he didn’t even seem to like when I touched myself.
Maybe that was the problem. It all felt like work instead of fun. And right now, it just feels like one more way I don’t measure up. Especially with the way Milo is looking at me.
“You know what? I’m done talking about this. This has been a long night and we’re probably both going to be out of a job tomorrow once James sobers up and comes to his senses. So for now, I’m going to my room to get comfortable.”
He springs forward and grabs my arm. “Wait, Mya. I’m serious about not leaving yet. I’m pretty sure Christiane is staying on this floor. And she seems predisposed to hate us anyway.”
Fed up with being told what to do, I reach behind me and unzip my dress. “I need to get out of this bra before it cuts off my circulation.” I raise my eyebrows, waiting to see what he’ll do.
But he shocks the hell out of me when he calls my bluff. Milo grabs one of the discarded dress shirts from the bed and hands it to me. “Change into this. You can order room service and relax just as easily here as you can in your room.”
Clearly, like most men, Milo has no idea what relaxation means for a
woman. But I’m just embarrassed and exhausted enough not to care anymore. So I take the shirt and escape into the safe haven of the bathroom. Once the door is closed and locked behind me, I meet my own eyes in the mirror. That was the most ridiculous conversation, but in a strange way cathartic, too. Maybe I just needed to tell someone and Milo happened to be the unlucky bystander when it all came bursting forth.
Not that he should have acted like it was such a bother to him. I’m the one who’s been sexually frustrated for years, after all. If anyone has cause to be annoyed by this situation, it’s me.
The bathrooms in this hotel come stocked with all manner of toiletries, so I use the mini facial bar to wash my makeup off. There’s a small hook on the back of the door, so I use that to hang my dress by the straps and put on the shirt Milo gave me. It’s a good thing he’s so tall or there would be no way this thing would fit over my chest, but it’s just big enough. Although I have to unbutton quite a bit at the top so I don’t feel like my boobs are being strangled.
After pulling the pins out of my bun, I finger comb my hair down around my face. It’s super thick, so it’s easier to keep it braided or in a bun, but when I’m relaxing, I just let it go wild. Milo will just have to deal. He’s the one who wouldn’t let me leave, so if he doesn’t like it, he can bite me.
The man looked like he wanted to bite you anyway.
With that thought, I yank open the bathroom door and march back out into the room. Milo looks up from the mini bar where he’s selected a small bottle. His mouth falls open slightly before he clears his throat and looks away, guiltily.
“Want a drink?”
“Uh, sure.”
“We have scotch, some dubious-looking wine and vodka.”
I shrug. “Alcohol. Anything that can make me forget the past three hours.”
He’s about to respond when my phone rings. To my surprise, Milo picks it up as if he has every right to know who’s calling me. He tilts the screen so I can see the face. A picture of me and William taken during our last New Year’s Eve flashes on the screen. I take the phone and hit the button to silence the call.