And I’m not sure we’ll be making it out alive.
The sun is setting, and clouds are rolling in.As I apply some final touches to my makeup, a clap of thunder shakes my entire apartment.
I drop my mascara brush in the sink.
Shit.
Oh well, my eyelashes are marvelous on their own, I suppose.
I peer through the window.It’s beginning to rain.
Thank God Maddox is picking me up tonight.I wouldn’t want to brave the L in this weather.Certainly not while wearing this little slip of a pink dress.
The doorbell rings.
Speak of the handsome devil himself.
I glide over to the front door and open it.Maddox stands there, holding a bouquet of red roses.
My God.
A man never looked so luscious.
He’s wearing a pressed and tailored tuxedo, black as the night we’ll be walking into.Under his jacket is a blood-red bow tie with a matching vest and pocket square.Mother-of-pearl studs line the ruffled button-down shirt he wears under the vest, and heart-shaped cufflinks peek out from his sleeves.
Any other man would look like a Valentine’s Day stereotype in this ensemble.But Maddox?
It’s all I can do not to strip naked right here and now.Allow him to do whatever he wants to my body.Carte bloody blanche.
He grins.“Alissa, you look beautiful tonight.”
“I should say the same to you.”I fiddle with my gloves.
He hands me the bouquet of roses.“I only wish these flowers were a fraction as gorgeous as you tonight, my love.”
Alarm bells go off in my brain.
My love?
It’s not the three little words I’ve been longing to hear, but it’s one of them.
A warmth fills my cheeks.
“Thank you.”I take the roses.“Won’t you please come in?I’ll put these in some water.”
He walks into my apartment, closing the door.
I head to the kitchen, reach under my sink to find a vase, fill it halfway with water, and place the roses in the water.
I take a step back to admire them.“Where did you get these, Maddox?These look like they’ve been trimmed off the gardens of Buckingham Palace itself.”
“Question asked and answered.”
“Very funny.”
“I got them from a florist who works near the haberdashery.Amber Bloom, it’s called.”He kisses my neck.“But no flower in the world could capture your beauty, or”—he inhales deeply, his eyes closed—“aroma.”
I bite my lip.“Maddox…”
