Intense (Dark Hearts)

“Oh goodness. I don’t have anything to wear.”

“Another reason to pick you up. I want to take you to get a dress,” he says, giving me a huge grin. Goodness, the man is gorgeous. I don’t miss that several of the females are taking in his appeal. I want to bite every one of them, but then I remember Roman has eyes only for me even though I’m still a mess.

“But I’m all bandaged up,” I remind him.

“Amelia, just say you don’t want to go, and I’ll understand.”

Oh my goodness, he’s so cute when he’s sad, but it’s not something I can deal with so I ease his mind. “I do. I just don’t want to embarrass you.”

He looks shocked, stopping in the middle of the hallway. “Embarrass? You’re gorgeous, smart, and sweet. I’m afraid I’m going to end up in jail by the end of the night.”

“Please.” I swat his chest and march on toward the exit because I know I’m seconds from him showing me how hot he thinks I am.

“I’m serious, but once everyone sees you with me, they’ll know it’s serious. I’ve never brought a date to any event I’ve attended,” he informs me, which makes me feel really good inside. He has to be the sweetest asshole I’ve ever met, and I love him more and more every day.

“Okay. So where are we going?” I ask, wanting to see where he’s planning to take me because he conveniently left that part out.

“To get you a dress.”

“Yes, but where am I wearing this dress to?” Yep, purposely being obtuse.

“We’ll just have to see.” He leads me to the limo, and Johnson smiles.

“Good afternoon, Johnson.”

“Afternoon, Ms. Amelia.” He whispers something to the driver and we head out.

We haven’t spent any time outside of the penthouse because he’s been worried about me and we’ve been busy making up for lost time, so this is a nice change.

We arrive at an exclusive dress store, which I’m sure I could have never entered if it wasn’t for Roman. The lady greets Roman as if they’re old friends, but I know they don’t know each other.

“How’s your father, Mariana?” he asks. Apparently, I’m very wrong and suddenly uncomfortable.

“He’s doing well.” As if sensing my mood, the woman looks to me and says, “My father has been Roman’s personal tailor for ten years and just retired.”

A man in a suit approaches us with a glower, sliding his hand around her waist. “Everything okay, moy zaychik.”

“Yes. This is Roman Edwards and his beautiful woman…”

“Amelia,” I say, trying to defuse the tension. The handsome Russian is clearly protective of her. I don’t know what he said, but I understood the meaning. She’s his, and Roman better think twice.

“Very well. Now that we got that show over with, do you mind finding a dress that would suit Amelia? We need it for this evening.”

“You’re going to the gala?”

“Yes.”

“That’s wonderful. Come, Amelia. Let’s find you the perfect gown that will make everyone take notice that the elusive Roman Edwards is off the market.” She turns to the men and says, “Play nice, Viktor.”

“I won’t be long, Roman.”

“I’ll be checking in.”

“Okay.”

“I thought Viktor was a bit protective, but Roman’s got the same tendencies.”

“Well, I was kidnapped almost two weeks ago.”

“Oh my, yep. We better make sure to check in, then. He’s probably fidgeting in his seat, which will make Viktor anxious about me, too.”

“So what color would be good for me?”

“You’re so beautiful that any color would do, but I can see you in this new one I just finished. I think it would be perfect.” She comes back a minute later with a long green silky gown that is form fitting down to the waist in the front, while the back is see-through lace. I try it on with her help and spin to look in the mirror. I gasp and twirl. My entire figure has been amplified; curves visible from every angle.

“He’s going to lose his mind when he sees you.”

“I love it. Can I have it?”

“Absolutely. I need some pictures because you are already breathtaking, and you don’t have your hair or makeup styled.” I’m suddenly nervous because of the wound on my head. I wonder if Roman will let me do my own hair tonight.

“What’s wrong?”

“Amelia, are you okay in there?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Give me a minute.”

She mouths sorry for accidentally letting Roman hear her concern. “It’s okay. I have a missing piece of hair and I don’t want anyone to see it.”

“That’s fine. You’re beautiful. I’m sure Roman wouldn’t care if you get your hair done or leave it just like it is.”

“She’s right,” Roman calls out.

“You’re being nosy.”

“Sorry, I can’t help it. I’m worried about you.”

“I’m getting dressed.”

“What a pity.” I giggle, and Mariana walks out of the dressing room.

I exit a minute later with the dress in hand. “This is the one.”