45

“ ou can’t sleep all day.”

I crack my eyes open and squint at the fully dressed figure looming over my bed.

Winston Constantine. My villainous lover.

“What time is it?” I grumble. “When did you get up?”

“Some of us get up with the birds.” He snatches the blanket and yanks it off my body. “Or should I say one particularly loud bird. How do you sleep through that noise?”

“It’s not noise. He’s singing.”

“He should take lessons. Get up and showered.” His fingers brush over my stomach where the Sharpie still stains my skin.

Winston’s Dirty Whore.

“I’ll drop you off at your house on the way to the Constantine Compound,” he says, making his way over to my closet. “Call me if your idiot brothers give you trouble.”

“Step,” I mutter. “Dad and Manda will be there getting ready too. And her stylist.”

“Good.” He pulls a dress off the hanger and tosses it onto the bed. “Wear this and the sandals you wore to dinner the other day. The nude Jimmy Choos. I like the way they make your calves look.”

I sit up on my knees and drink in his handsome appearance. He’s back to wearing another impeccable suit without a hair out of place. There’s a certain rigidity to him that I understand to be nerves.

Climbing off the bed, not bothering to cover my nakedness since he’s seen it all, I approach him and hug him from behind. He’s stiff at first and then relaxes slightly.

“Happy birthday, Win.”

He allows me to hold him for all of thirty seconds before he’s extricating himself from me. Win’s not the best cuddler. Apparently, he’s even worse when he’s stressed.

“We don’t have all day. Mother wants me to come over early for a drink and pictures. Vanity Fair will be doing a piece.” He walks over to the dresser, tidying up a pile of cherry Starburst into a neat stack before he grabs my phone and unplugs it from the charger. “I’ll entertain myself while I wait.”

As much as I’d love to crawl into his lap and watch the video we made last night, I do need to shower and dress. If I want to look the part of Winston Constantine’s personal assistant and lover, I need to put some effort into it. I don’t need to give his mother any added ammunition on what will be a hate brigade against me. I have enough haters.

After a quick shower, I pull my wet hair into a messy bun, knowing the stylist will want to dry it. I forgo the makeup and pull on some undergarments, all the while listening to the hot sounds of our feral lovemaking from the night before. Winston looks good enough to eat with an erection straining in his slacks as he leans against the doorjamb watching my phone with an evil smirk on his face. Once I’m dressed, I walk over to him and peek at it. He’s at the part where he’s in my ass, pounding into me like he hates me. My skin burns hot at seeing the two of us together. It makes me want to watch the whole thing.

“We could be late,” I murmur, peeking at him through my lashes.

His jaw clenches, and his blue eyes flash. “As much as I want to make you cry, little girl, and destroy your sore asshole, I have responsibilities. If you please me tonight at the birthday bash, I’ll reward you with my dick down your pretty throat.”

I lick my lips. “Promise?”

“I always follow through on my threats,” he rumbles, his lips curling into a sinister grin. “You, of all people, know this.”

****

I enter the brownstone to a bustle of activity. There are people rushing about, dressing the triplets in the living room and doing last-minute alterations. Dad is nowhere to be found. I’m nearly knocked over by Manda, fully dressed in a low-cut evening gown, as soon as I start for the stairs.

“Seriously, Ash!” she bellows. “You’re a hot mess, and we only have a few hours until your limo arrives. Get upstairs and do something about that hair!”

I yelp in surprise when her nails dig into my bicep and she starts dragging me up the steps. “You’re going to bruise me, Manda!”

“That’s why they created makeup, darling. Now get to drying your hair,” she snaps, hauling me into my bedroom.

I drop my bag on the bed and scowl at her. “Where’s the stylist?”

“She had a family emergency.” Manda smiles at me in the same corrupt way her sons do. “Looks like you’re on your own. Don’t embarrass me.”

“Unbelievable,” I mutter. “When will the limo be here?”

“Five. If you’re not ready, I’ve instructed him to leave. You won’t make a mockery out of my family by showing up late.”

It’s only a quarter past two. That’s plenty of time to doll myself up. Of course, I won’t look as fancy as I could had I used the stylist, but it’ll have to do. I just hope Winston’s mother doesn’t notice.

“Bye, Manda,” I bite out. “I have to get ready now.”

She regards me coolly before storming from my room, slamming the door in the process. I make my way into the bathroom and set to drying my hair. It takes forever because it’s thick and long, but I manage to get it dry. I decide to do loose curls and use my flat iron to do each piece. I waste an hour and a half making my hair look better than any stylist could ever do. I’m quite pleased with the bounciness and wonder if Winston will enjoy running his fingers through it.

I’m nervous about tonight, but I’m also excited. I want to prove to Winston I can stand by his side as someone he can be proud of.

I take a break even though it’s now almost four. It shouldn’t take long to put on my makeup and dress, but I can’t dawdle too much. Sitting on the bed, I dig out my phone and text Winston.

Me: Are you having fun? Winston: Endless amounts. Me: You just miss me.

Winston: Don’t flatter yourself. Me: Liar. The stylist had to leave. Winston: Should I send another?

Me: I’m not a complete idiot. I can do my own hair and makeup. Winston: Send me a picture.

Me: I’ll trade you one.

He sends me a selfie of him scowling. Tons of photographers are milling about behind him in a luscious courtyard. It makes me laugh because he seems miserable. In return, I send him a smiling selfie of myself.

Me: I still have to throw on some makeup and my dress. The limo will be here at five.

Winston: I can’t wait to see your face all made up knowing I get to make you cry it off later when you’re choking on my dick.

I send him some emojis sticking their tongue out.

Me: I’ll send you a picture when I’m done. I expect endless amounts of praise.

Winston: You’re the only girl I know who shamelessly begs for compliments. They don’t count when you force them out of people.

Laughing, I toss the phone on my bed and head back into the bathroom to do my makeup. I’ve nearly got it done when Manda charges into the bedroom.