I wasn’t a fool. This wasn’t some mere burst of sexual attraction throwing me off. It couldn’t be. My sole desire remained to appear as if I belonged, to prove I had the right to be there, the eloquence to not stick out like a sore thumb, and the privileged upbringing to never need to explain myself. Busting my ass like a first-rate bimbo wasn’t exactly sending that message.
“We still haven’t been fully introduced.”
Head down, I licked my lips as the door gave way. Without saliva, my mouth stayed ash dry. Swallowing uncomfortably, I forced myself to face him head on.
“I’m Avery. Avery Johansson.” Despite my riled hormones, I kept my stare neutral—not too strong and not too passive.
“It’s nice to meet you, Avery Johansson. I hope to see you around.”
With a tight nod, I backed into my apartment and shoved the door shut. My hand gripped the knob as my fingers slackened around my shoes, sending them clattering to the hardwood floor. I panted quietly.
Shutting my eyes, I rested my clammy palm on my chest where my heart beat like a tribal drum. My head fell back, and I sighed.
Some people were too damn perfect—especially him. I couldn’t embarrass myself like that again. And I certainly couldn’t afford to get near him again. He affected me differently than any other man I’d met since moving to Philadelphia. I didn’t like it.
Sagging against the wood, I groaned. Why did he seem so different?
“God, he’s pretty.” A total distraction and I was an idiot for teasing him, never once thinking he’d remain my neighbor and the joke might be on me.
I blew out a breath. “I might have to move even if I don’t fuck him.”
4
Avery
As the manicurist applied a second coat to my nails, my phone flashed, notifying me of an email. Careful not to smudge the fresh polish, I swiped the pad of my finger across the screen and navigated to my inbox. Micah. Short and sweet in true Micah style.
* * *
Tonight. 6:00. Black tie formal. Can you make it? ~M.
* * *
I quickly responded, letting him know I’d be ready and waiting. The message sent and my phone pinged seconds later with his reply.
* * *
Good girl. Money’s in your account for attire and jewelry. I’m picturing you in something red. See you in a few hours. ~M.
* * *
Moving to the dryer, I glanced at the time. Five hours. I could make that work. “Is it possible to fit me in for a wax?”
The manicurist checked the appointment book, and within ten minutes, I was gritting my teeth through a Brazilian. I hated being waxed, but I loved the ability to afford such indulgent spa treatments. And held myself to a certain high standard, that of a woman of means and strict beauty rituals. These were the differences between the girl I was and the woman I aimed to be. I opted to have my eyebrows threaded since I had a date in a few hours. There wasn’t time for puffiness.
Buffed and polished, I scheduled a return appointment for hair and makeup at four. Two hours to find a dress, shoes, and all the accessories necessary for a black tie affair.
A notification came directly to my phone that funds had been electronically deposited. Nice. If anything, Micah, my most generous client and most important Daddy, took great care of me. Twelve hundred dollars of make myself pretty money. More than enough.
First stop, a consignment boutique in Society Hill that carried only name brand labels. I needed to look like twelve hundred bucks while spending as little as possible. I had other plans for the balance.
They knew me at the boutique and knew I usually shopped on a time crunch. As I walked in, the clerk, Twyla, dropped what she’d been doing to help me.
“He wants something red tonight.” They never asked who he was and why should they? It was none of their business.
“Oh, we have this adorable new romper—”
“It’s a black tie function.”
Twyla deflated and twisted her lips, her gaze scanning the neatly organized racks. She suddenly perked up. “We just got a new shipment in. I think I saw something red in satin back there. Hopefully, it’s in your size. Let me check.”
I moved to the shoe display while Twyla searched for a dress. A great pair of nude Nappa heels for only forty dollars caught my eye. They likely retailed for a couple hundred. They were a size too small, but for a deal like that... I took them off the shelf and moved to the jewelry display, not seeing anything fitting with tonight’s theme.
“Avery, you’re in luck!” Twyla reappeared, carrying a devil red gown draped over her arm and nearly trailing on the polished floor. “And it’s a size two. But it might need a hem.” She lifted the gown and hooked it on an ornate sconce.