right? I don’t have to answer to you. Stop telling us what to do and
just leave already. The only reason Brynn cares if you’re here is because you do all
the shit jobs.”
“Believe me, I’m aware of that. And I could use some help.”
Monica batted her eyes. “But then you couldn’t be Allie the Perfect. Your life wouldn’t
be complete.”
These same old arguments exhausted her. “Do you ever get tired of being so bitchy,
Mon?” Allie glanced at her sister. “Because the rest of us are sick of it.”
“Maybe I’m sick of you,” Monica yelled. “You’re the bitch, not me.”
This was how it always ended—angry words, hurt feelings, and childish disagreements.
Allie ignored Monica’s parting shot as she walked to her room.
She closed her door with a quiet click. Monica and Brynn shared a room, while Allie
had the smallest bedroom to herself. She guessed one of the girls could move in here
now.
Well, maybe not. She wasn’t exactly mistress material, so maybe Trevor would get bored
sooner rather than later. Unless he felt cheated by her lack of experience and tried
to renege on their agreement.
No, it was in her family’s best interest to keep him happy. Every damn whim.
Chapter 3
“Will these accommodations work, miss?” Arnold asked.
A charcoal duvet covered the king-sized bed. A lovely antique dressing table took
up one corner of the room. Above it all was a tray ceiling. The other side of the
room, beyond an archway, contained a small sitting room decorated in dove gray and
pale pink.
“Yes, Arnold—may I call you Arnold?” she asked.
“I’d be pleased if you would.”
“Thank you. The accommodations are beautiful.”
“Very good. The en suite is through there.” He pointed toward a door next to the bed.
“And Mr. Blake requested that you wear the dress hanging in the closet.”
Well, that couldn’t be good. She didn’t trust Trevor Blake to pick out something nice
and normal for her to wear. He probably wanted her to wear some sheer, slutty dress
that showed off her boobs. Mistress wear. She blinked and noticed Arnold waiting for
her response. “Sure, thanks.”
“If you require anything, simply dial nine on the phone next to your bed.”
“Thank you,” she repeated.
Once he was gone, Allie made her way to the closet and opened the doors. A lone black
dress hung inside the walk-in. Floor length, with a modest V-neckline and a side slit,
it was simple and beautiful. The back, however, was nonexistent. Two narrow crossing
straps held it together. There was no way she could wear a bra with it. Black satin
sling-back shoes, with wispy feathers across the toe, sat on the floor. She wondered
if any of it would fit.
Trevor Blake had bought himself a real live Barbie doll. Freak .
She spent the time before dinner unpacking her bags and took a quick shower in the
black marble bathroom. An hour later, Allie stood at the top of the staircase, her
back straight, head high, feeling exposed and awkward in the backless dress. As she
stepped forward, the silky material flowed over her legs.
Trevor waited for her at the bottom of the steps. She hoped to God she wouldn’t fall
on her ass in front of him. She wasn’t used to wearing such high heels.
“You look lovely, Miss Campbell.” He wore an evening suit with a black tie and a crisp,
white shirt.
Putting on one of her customer service smiles, she willed herself not to show signs
of discomfort as the slit parted with every step, revealing her bare leg almost to
her hip.
His eyes strayed there as he watched her descend. “I’m so glad it fits.”
Opening her mouth to say something clever and cutting, she forgot to kick her foot
out ahead of the dress so she wouldn’t trip on the hem. She stumbled on the last step
and stretched her arms toward him to keep from falling. He reached out at the same
time and caught her.
By the boob.
***
Trevor cupped her large