CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Marly
Afew hourslater, I was rested and dressed, spinning in front of the full-length mirror on the inside closet door. I gasped for breath, looking at my reflection.Literallygasped for breath. The black leather corset was so tight, I couldn’t take a deep breath if I wanted to.
Leather. Eve’s voice from last night echoed in my mind.Sweetheart, for months that man had been seen with only brunettes. They had to wear leather. And they always wore the same stupid red shade of lipstick.With the wig and the leather—I was two-thirds of the way there.
Was he dressing me to look like Layla? No. No, that was crazy. And I was the one who brought the wig to LnS, not Jude.
I gave another turn in the mirror, looking at my ass in the short leather skirt.Holy shit, I barely recognized myself. But that was sort of the point. If we were going in public, no one could recognize me or else we were both in deep shit.
The leather was smooth beneath my palm as I ran my hand down my corseted waist. My waist was cinched, creating that all-too-alluring hour glass shape. The short skirt was complimented by thigh-high black stockings and a seam that went up the back. I wore a scrap of fabric that I supposed some women would call underwear… though, honestly, I might as well have gone commando. My gaze flicked down my legs, and I closed my eyes, picturing Jude’s face. All sexy stern mouth, thick brown hair, and chiseled jaw. Between my legs, my panties grew slick—at this rate they’d be soaked before I ever left the room. When I opened my eyes, I truly didn’t recognize the girl standing in front of me—but my reflection grinned wickedly back at me. Then I shimmied out of the thong, giving a quick check in the mirror to make sure I wasn’t exposed in the short skirt and thigh-highs.
I moved to the sink to finish my makeup. Grabbing a tube of lipstick, I swallowed, turning it over in my hands.Sunlit Poppy. In other words…red.Dark wig. Leather clothes. Red lips. I dropped the lipstick and it clattered as it hit the porcelain sink. There was no way I was putting that lipstick on. No fucking way. A thought hit me hard like a bucket of ice water in the face.What if he only came up with the nickname Poppy because it was Layla’s lip color?I swallowed hard, forcing myself to look at my reflection. No… he couldn’t. Hewouldn’tdo that… would he?
There was a knock on the door. OnJude’sdoor. “Come in,” I said, but my voice sounded hoarse.
Jude entered, a grin spreading large across his face as his gaze locked onto me. “Wow… you look…different.”
I swallowed. “Good different?”
“You always look gorgeous. But I prefer your natural hair color.” Even though he was being nice, the compliment rubbed like sandpaper over my skin. “You almost ready?” he asked.
I took a deep breath. I had agreed to table the conversation about Eve… but that was before. Before the leather outfit. Before the red lipstick. I turned, holding up the small black tube in Jude’s face. “What is this?”
His throat worked, Adam’s apple bobbing as he inspected the tube in my hands. “Um, lipstick?” he said, clueless. There was genuine confusion in his face. His brow tilted down, forming a ‘V’ between his eyes. Maybe he wasn’t doing this on purpose. Maybe this wasn’t some crazy, intricate plan to get me dressed up like Layla.
“The other night when I was getting your drink at the bar, Eve was there. And she told me that you had a type. Essentially, Layla’s type. Dark hair.” I tugged at the strands of the wig. “Leather.” I slapped my palm over the leather stretched across my hip. “And red lipstick.” I punctuated the last sentence by holding up the lipstick again.
The confusion on his face shifted, turning into a scowl. “Eve talked to you at the public flogging?” His tone was dangerously dark and his eyes simmered a deep shade of green.
“Thatisn’t what matters right now. I was willing to talk about Eve another time. But now? In light of allthis,” I gestured at my outfit. “I need to know the truth about what happened with her. Why does she hate you so much? Why did she call you a fraud?” When Jude didn’t answer, the knot in my stomach rose to my throat.
“Because Iama fraud,” he whispered.
I waited, needing more of an answer than that. But it never came. Jude stood there silently, staring at the floor. The imminent threat of tears burned in my sinuses. “Ineedto know you’re not dressing me up like some fucking doll to look like your ex-wife—”
“No,” Jude growled the word as he stepped closer. But I countered by stepping back. “Fuck,no, Marly. That’s not what this is.Youbrought the wig, remember?”
I nodded. “Yes. I remember. But what about the leather?”
“Chloe picked out the clothes,” he said. “I gave her my credit card and your sizes and she went shopping for me yesterday. Leather corsets and black skirts are basically her uniform here, so I can’t say I’m surprised at her choice.” I looked down at the outfit. It did look like something literally out of Chloe’s closet—at least from the little bit I knew about Chloe. Relief was imminent. Scratching at the surface. But the lipstick still remained. The lipstick and my nickname.
“And this?” I gestured to the lipstick. “SunlitPoppy?”
Jude swallowed hard, his jaw ticking. “It looks bad, I know—”
That was all the answer I needed. It was Layla’s lipstick. Tears sprang to my eyes, hot and salty. The tube slipped from my fingers and hit the floor. “Is that why you called me Poppy?” I looked up into his eyes, refusing to shrink back from his gaze, despite the distortion from my tears, like seeing him through blown glass.
“Marly,” he said gently, and this time when he moved toward me, I didn’t back away. He cupped my jaw, his hands large and warm, and his thumb stroked across my damp cheeks. “No,” he said—his voice was soft, but firm. “I kept that makeup bag stocked here for the last couple of years. Yes, some of the items in there were Layla’s brands and colors. I always try to have makeup replenished for any submissives.”
“And this is Layla’s shade, isn’t it?” My voice cracked. Why did that hurt so damn much? It was a stupid tube of lipstick for God’s sake. It wasn’t like he was out fucking Layla. But I couldn’t help the burning ache at the hollow of my stomach.
“It was,” he answered, honestly. “But I don’t want you to wear it because of that. I was going through the new makeup Chloe keeps stocked for me and when I saw that the shade was called Sunlit Poppy, I smiled. Because it was such a beautiful coincidence. That’s why I tucked it into your bag of makeup.”
I wiped my fingers beneath my eyes, wiping away my tears. With all the stupid eye-makeup I’d just put on, it was probably running down my face now.
Jude bent and kissed my forehead, my nose, and both my cheeks. “Please don’t cry. I’m so sorry—I clearly wasn’t thinking. Do you want a new nickname? We’ll find you one. That outfit? Throw it in the garbage if you want. That wig? I’ll go buy you a blonde one right now.”
