So this really is just casual sex, she thought to herself, resolving not to let her emotions get involved. But how could she keep her distance after Jake had possessed her so completely; it had been such an intimate connection, giving herself over to him. It’s just sex, and that’s all you want from him anyway, she told herself firmly. But if that were true, then why did she feel so sad?
Forcing away her unsettling thoughts, she got up and took a shower, getting ready for the day. She had no idea where Jake was, and she told herself she didn’t care; she was more than capable of exploring the city on her own.
But just as she was finishing getting dressed, the door opened and Jake stepped inside. He was holding a large garment bag, grinning. “I brought you a present,” he said, evidently pleased.
What is this? Mallory thought angrily. Payment for the great sex? The idea of receiving gifts in exchange for her… services made her feel dirty.
“Jake, you shouldn’t have.”
“But I wanted to.” He was still beaming.
“No,” she said coldly. “You really shouldn’t have.”
He blinked, taken aback. “What’s wrong?” He asked, clearly puzzled.
“What’s wrong?!” Her voice was tight with anger. “Do you think you can buy me? Like some whore?”
Jake took a step back, shocked. “Whoa, Mallory,” he began, alarm coloring his tone. “That’s not what this is.”
“What else would you call it then?” She hissed.
He took a hesitant step toward her, approaching her cautiously. “I got this for you because I wanted to. If anything, it’s as much a gift for myself as it is for you.”
The ice in Mallory’s veins melted slightly, her interest piqued. “What do you mean?” She asked, her tone suspicious.
“Let me show you?” It came out as a question. His brow was furrowed, lines of apprehension around his eyes. Mallory couldn’t stand to berate him when he showed this side of himself, reminding her of his true vulnerability. She gave him a curt nod.
Holding the clothes hanger aloft, he unzipped the garment bag and revealed what it contained: it was one of the most beautiful dresses Mallory had ever seen. It was clearly a period costume, but made to the highest quality, as though it had been brought straight out of the sixteenth century and delivered to her.
It was a gorgeous sky blue, nearly the color of her eyes. A corseted top bloomed out into a full taffeta skirt. There were four-inch thick straps holding up the corset, with large, oval turquoise stones set on the fabric. Sheer white gossamer had been used to make long, floating sleeves, fitted to the upper arm before flaring out off the elbow, the bell-shaped length of them dripping gracefully to the floor.
Mallory couldn’t help gasping at the beauty of it. She wanted it dearly, but she wasn’t ready to cave just yet.
“And how is this for you?” She wanted her voice to maintain a sharp edge, but it was soft, wondering.
He eyed her levelly. “I want you to wear it for me, Mallory. Nothing would please me more.”
“Wear it? Through the streets of Venice? Won’t that seem a tad out of place?”
Jake’s wolfish grin was back in place. “Oh, we won’t be strolling around the city,” he said. “We’re going to a ball tonight.”
Mallory’s stomach tightened. She had never been to a ball, unless you counted serving at Jake’s soirée. Her throat went dry. “A costume ball?”
“No,” Jake said, pausing to draw out the anticipation. “A fetish ball.”
Mallory’s jaw dropped.
The End… For now.