Maya unzips her suitcase with a flourish, revealing a collection of dresses that are small, tight, and leave absolutely nothing to the imagination.
I gape at the array of sequins, silk, and lace. “I can’t wear those!”
“Why not?” she asks, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re going on a date, aren’t you?”
“It’s not a real date!” I insist, my cheeks flushing.
She grabs my hands, forcing me to look at her. “Kylie, you deserve to feel beautiful and have fun. Screw Alex and all his crap. Let your fine-ass husband wine and dine you!”
My stomach flutters at the thought. “But he doesn’t see me that way,” I mumble, not quite believing it even as I say it.
Maya arches a brow. “You sure about that? Don’t think I am not noticing that gorgeous bouquet behind you.”
I bite my lip, trying to hide my blush. She’s wrong. Benedict told me what this is — an arrangement, pure and simple. And Alex’s harsh words about why their father approved me keep echoing in my mind. I take a breath, trying to steady myself.