He licked his lips quickly, reached up and brushed her hair away from her neck. “Those women are a buffet. But you? You’re a delicacy. I’ll eat you slowly with attention to every bite. I’ll drink you like fine wine, savoring your taste, inhaling your scent, letting you own me for as long as you’re in my mouth.”
Lola exhaled an unintentional noise.
“I’ll swallow all of you, but you won’t realize it until it’s too late. Until you’re a part of me,” he said. “That’s what you sold me. That’s what I paid for.”
It would’ve been enough to frighten any other woman. It should’ve sent her sprinting back into Johnny’s arms, content with the five hundred thousand that had almost been enough. The idea of being consumed by Beau did scare Lola, but it excited her more.
She didn’t know whether to kiss him or back away, but it didn’t matter. He was already leaving the room. “Put the things you wore here in the shopping bag by the door,” he said over his shoulder. “Everything else in this room should be on your body tonight.”
8
It took three technicians to turn Lola inside out. She was transformed. After their visit to the boutique, Beau’s next stop had been a nearby salon. Within an hour, her hair had been washed, dried and swept into a loose updo, and her makeup flawlessly applied. Her nails were the color of sweet cherries. Lola watched raptly as the makeup artist carefully glided on the final touch—vivid lipstick, also cherry, also sweet.
“Everything else will catch his attention,” the woman said quietly as she worked, “but this will be his undoing.”
Lola wanted to explain that she didn’t care if Beau was undone or not but her lips were occupied. Beau was never far away, and now he watched her in the mirror. There was no question he liked what he saw. And she liked that he liked it.
Maybe Lola did care if he was undone. After all, no matter how hard she fought her attraction, he was still a man and she was still a woman.
A fact she was reminded of with every movement. The corset Beau had picked out was not just an undergarment—it was a promise of things to come. The stiff, black lace kept her nipples at attention. It straightened her back, bared her while concealing her. It said, Always be delectable for whoever might look.
Underneath, black stockings, trimmed also with lace, stopped at the tops of her legs. When she rubbed her thighs together in the chair, the sheer parts felt silky, the lace parts coarse.
She hadn’t shown this much cleavage in years, and she found it ironic that even then it had been a form of survival.
When Beau approached the chair, everyone else faded instantly away.
“People have a habit of disappearing around you,” she said.
“They know what I want.”
Lola looked at his reflection. “And what’s that?”
“Privacy.” He frowned. “I told them to leave your hair down.”
“I told them to put it up.” She uncrossed her legs. “It suits the dress.”
“I don’t care about the dress. I only care what suits me.”
“You don’t like it?” she asked.
“I suppose.” He took one of the loose strands that framed her face between his fingers. “There’ll be plenty of time for me to do what I want with it later.”
Seated, Lola came up to Beau’s chest. The mirror framed them like a photograph. All made up, Lola finally looked as though she belonged by his side. “Beau,” she said, “there are things you don’t know about me.”
“I imagine quite a few.”
“It’s not just that Rodeo Drive isn’t my taste. I also don’t belong here.”
“Says who?”
“You think I do?” she asked, mostly to hear what he’d say.
He was no longer looking in her eyes. She followed his gaze to her mouth. “I think you should only care about one person’s opinion,” he said. “Mine. I don’t know who belongs where, but in my eyes, you’re a queen among peasants wherever you go.”
Lola stammered for a response. It shouldn’t have surprised her that Beau was attracted to her—he’d made himself clear on that point—but he still hadn’t given her a reason she could grasp. “Thank you,” she said lamely.
He looked up again. “In my office, you made a speech about how we have similar pasts, but now we’re on different sides. When you grow up on one side, though, you can never really cross over to the other. If you don’t belong here, neither do I.”
“Don’t you ever feel out of place?”
“If I do, I don’t let it show. I fake it. People will believe anything if you do it with confidence.” He checked his watch. “Come. It’s time to go.”
The limo idled out front. Her personal effects were taken from her. She didn’t care. Nothing had ever felt as good on her body as the things Beau had bought her.
“The rules apply even more so in public,” Beau said as they drove away from the salon. “You’re with me. Only me. Act as though it were true.”
“Will there be press there?”
“Yes. Let them speculate. A beautiful woman like you won’t go unnoticed, and I don’t want you to.”
Lola had the looks to back up her swagger, but Los Angeles was a hub for beautiful people. She doubted she’d get much attention amongst its upper crust. “Why not?” she asked.
“There are people who doubt my business practices because I’m…how do I put it? Social.”
“You sleep around.”
He gave her a sidelong glance. “Actually, no.”
She pushed his shoulder with her fingertips. “You’re such a liar. You must think I’m dense or blind. Women probably trip over themselves for a shot with you.”
Beau raised one eyebrow. “You didn’t. If you tripped at all, it was while running in the opposite direction.”
She lowered her head a little as she smiled. “That’s because I have a—” She stopped herself.
“So if you didn’t have a—”