The Perfect Plans Series [Box Set] (29 page)

“I knew it would look even more amazing on you,” Alex whispers, effectively erasing my uneasy thoughts. Moving my hair over my shoulder, he runs his fingers down my bare back to the zipper, his lips teasing my skin as he slowly pulls it up.

Turning to face him, I glide my palms up his chiseled abdomen and chest. “Be good, Mr. Tate, you have company.” He squints his eyes, biting at the air as I pull my hands away.

Dress fully secured in place, I feel a renewed sense of confidence as he takes my hand to join Ben in the kitchen.

“So,” Ben pauses to take a sip of the beer he’s welcomed himself to, “ . . . you two are off to the ball, then? I didn’t get an invite. I’m highly insulted.”

“You’re banned, my man. No more posh parties for you and your devilish behavior,” Alex winks at him, grabbing a beer from the fridge. “Would you like a drink before we go, Aby?”

“No, thank you,” I murmur, eying the stool at the island. Envisioning the unwanted wrinkles in my new silk dress, I decide to stand instead, my heightened nerves about our outing returned full force. Maybe I should have a drink. Then again, adding ‘tipsy’ to my list of issues won’t help anything.

Watching Alex’s comradeship with his best friend is a slight distraction. It makes me think of Stacey. It’s nice to know that he has such a strong friendship with Ben. I imagine it can’t be easy to make new friends being the famous actor he is now.

“What’s this one for, anyway?” Ben questions, taking another drink, “That upcoming production you’ve been signed up for?”

“Yeah, all the PR pretentious crowd will be there. The usual wining and dining shit,” Alex takes a sip of his Corona, wrapping his arm around my waist.

“You should enjoy that, Aby,” Ben adds on a laugh.

I smile back, not quite sure what he meant by it. I find him hard to read.

“
I
will enjoy having her with me,” Alex smiles down at me, giving my waist a gentle squeeze.

Taking a final gulp, Ben places the empty bottle on the counter. “Well, lady and shithead, I’ll leave you to it.” He makes his way towards the kitchen door, stopping before us, “I see why you’ve been so busy lately, mate,” he punches Alex’s arm. “Nice to have met you, Abigail.”

“Nice to meet you too, Ben. And, please, call me Aby.”

He says nothing in reply, offering another one of his sly grins. Can’t the guy just smile?

“I’ll catch you later,” Alex removes his arm from around me to return the playful punch.

Laughing, Ben continues towards the door. “You better call me soon, shithead. Have fun at the
do.
Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he calls over his shoulder.

“That doesn’t leave much,” Alex laughs.

Without turning, Ben flips him the bird before moving out of sight, the sound of the closing door signaling his departure.

Setting down his unfinished beer, Alex shifts my hair over my shoulder, his teasing tongue working down my neck. “Let’s get back to being late, shall we,” he purrs in a delicious tone, unzipping my dress.

ENTERING THE EMPTY grand vestibule as we exit the elevator, I’m filled with heightened nerves at our somewhat tardy arrival. “It appears we’re late anyway, Mr. Tate,” I reprimand him playfully. His unyielding attempts to undress me before we left had been extremely tempting, though unsuccessful.

“Not late enough,” he growls, leaning to attack my neck with his lips.

“Stop it!” I giggle into him.

Grumbling, he straightens to look at me, holding my hands out at my sides, “You look incredible.”

I stare back at him shyly, imagining all of the beautiful women inside the main reception beyond the double doors. I have no idea what to expect, but perfection is definitely on the list.

Shaking his head in bewilderment, he spins me around to face the large floor to ceiling mirrored wall. “You, sweetheart, are an incredibly beautiful woman,” he smiles behind me at our reflection, sliding my hair over my shoulder to kiss my neck.

Taking in our mirrored image, I have to admit I do look great in this dress.
A great dress can do wonders,
I think to myself, eyeing the beautiful frock he picked out for me. Its red silk hugs my body, with soft ruffled edges down the side creating an illusion of curves I usually admire when looking at Stacey. The fitted high waistline, the length hitting just above my knees, make my legs appear longer then they are atop my sexy muted-gold ankle strap heels. The man has great taste in shoes as well.

Even my breasts appear fuller in the deep ruffled V-neckline. Alex seems to agree, his finger tracing down around them, heated desire evident in his reflected gaze.

On a resigned groan, he takes my hand, turning us in the direction of the double doors. “Let’s get this over with, I’m not sure how long I can wait before I actually do get you out of that sexy dress.”

I smile at his pained pout, deciding not to share my equal excitement at his plan to devour me later. My admission may prevent our attending the party at all.

Opening the doors, he leads me inside. I gasp at the large reception, filled from wall to wall with guests. It’s overwhelming. I attempt to take in the mass of beautifully dressed partygoers, all lost in conversation, holding glasses of champagne; my trembling nerves exasperated as the first attendee takes notice of our entrance and approaches.

“Mr. Alexander Tate,” the astute looking man reaches us, his hand outstretched. Smiling, they shake hands, the man cupping Alex’s shoulder in jovial greeting. “I won’t keep you . . . hot lips is in heat at your absence thus far,” he winks before turning away slightly, “Watch out, here she comes now.” Taking in my presence, he offers me a quick smile before patting Alex on the shoulder and continuing on through the crowd.

Alex releases an annoyed sigh before noting my questioning gaze. “Sorry, that was Henry Williams. He works with Julia.”

“Hot lips?” I urge him to elaborate on Mr. Williams’ comment.
Was
he referring to Julia?
God, I dislike that bitch,
I realize, despite my nagging good-girl notion that I don’t even know her to judge her as I do.

“Julia is well known for being somewhat . . . bitchy,” Alex laughs.

“As opposed to being well known for her attractive lips?” I muse sarcastically.

Shrugging his shoulders, he leads me forward, offering neither denial nor agreement. I think I would prefer that he outright negated it.
Actually, I
know
I would have preferred it,
I correct myself inwardly, looking ahead as we meet the blonde wench herself.

“How wonderful of you to join us, Alex,” Julia bites, completely ignoring my presence.

“Better late than never,” he smiles sarcastically. “Julia, I would like to introduce you to Abigail Ryan. Aby, this is Julia Cox.”
Ha!
Julia
Cox.
I bet the bitch’s nickname in high school was Julia-sucks-Cox. I almost laugh out loud.

Get a grip, Aby—
I reign in my own bitchy, adolescent thoughts.

“Pleasure to meet you, Abigail,” Julia slurs, barely hiding an almost contempt disgust. Though who knows, my biased—and somewhat unwarranted—hate for this woman could be tainting my take on her.

“Likewise,” I manage as sweetly as I can muster, not offering to mention my more familiar and friendly ‘Aby’ namesake.

Inwardly shaking my head that this night can’t possibly become any more uncomfortable, I spy my incredibly gorgeous co-worker approaching us.
Great.
Helena Adelaide
and
Julia-sucks-Cox . . . two of Alex’s ex’s at once
. Oh what fun.
This is definitely as surreal as a storyline right out of one of my damn novels.
Hump.
I think my guardian angel drinks.

“Alex,” his name rolls off Helena’s tongue like silk as she makes her way towards him, her touchy fingers making an expedition across his chest.

Back off, Whore-a the Explorer,
I want to growl at her.

“Helena,” Alex greets the octopus before they kiss both cheeks Parisian style. I involuntarily squeeze his hand at my side, his gaze darting towards me at my hidden jealous hissy fit. Damn reflexes. “You’ve met Helena?” he questions assumingly.

“Not formally,” Helena interjects with her silky grin, her smile mirroring the one she offered when I caught her ogling eye in the boardroom. Taking my free hand, she grazes her fingers up my arm, pulling me in for the same French greeting she offered Alex. “It’s a pleasure . . . ” she slithers with an extra warm smile before turning to grin at Julia.

I take notice of her tentacle-like arm at the small of Julia’s back.
Jeez,
Octa-goddess really can’t keep her hands off anyone.

At the arrival of a waiter, his tray full of champagne glasses, I help myself to a much-needed drink along with the others. Could this be any more ridiculously uncomfortable? For me, at least. I actually have no idea if anyone else in our
drama cast
grouping feels anything other than the painted smiles on their faces suggest.

“Alex . . . ”

We all turn to face the beckoning man that’s approached. My initial reaction to the savior’s interruption is relief, thankful that this man is going to take us away from our weird huddle. But shocked dread quickly takes over as he lures Alex away in conversation about
so-and-so
—an inaudible list of people apparently waiting to talk to him.

Turning his head back towards me, Alex offers an apologetic shrug, mouthing, “
Sorry.
” My dreaded gaze follows him being pulled away, leaving me cringing at the predicament I’m left facing.

Just great
.
I’m left here with Julia-definitely-sucks-Cox, and Horny Hands Helena.
Good times,
I think to myself, turning back towards ‘Drizella’ and
‘Anastasia.’ Of course, in
my
fairytale, they’re stunningly gorgeous and have
both
fucked my prince.
On second thought, maybe my guardian angel is a crack head.

“You look beautiful this evening, Abigail,” Helena purrs through her never fading smile, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. Through the corner of my eye, I think I see Julia roll her eyes. “Thank you, Helena, you look rather amazing yourself,” I manage, keeping the imaginary poison darts I’m shooting at her through my eyes at bay.

Aside from my venomous dislike of her—all at the hands of her ‘just sex’ with my boyfriend, of course—I can’t help but wonder what this extremely beautiful woman is all about. So far she’s touched me almost as much as I’ve seen her touch Alex. Clearly she’s just an extremely touchy type, as he said.

And she’s touched every inch of him as well
—my inner actress reminds me, causing a reload of another round of my imaginary missiles.

“So, are you settling in here in London, Abigail?” Helena’s silky voice is like butter on your hands—incredibly annoying to wash off. “Thomas tells me you just relocated here from Canada. Have you found a nice flat?”

“I have, however I don’t move in until Saturday,” I reply, instantly saddened at the thought of leaving Alex’s. It’s been amazing staying with him.
AMAZING . . .
I’m flooded with images of
our incessant lovemaking and domestic-likened cuddling.

“You’re still staying in a hotel then?” she interrupts my inner love story movie trailer. “Oh, Abigail, that must be dreadful.”

“No, actually,” I feel suddenly brazen, “ . . . I’m staying with Alex.”
Take that bitches!
I applaud myself internally.

Julia almost chokes on her Champagne, spitting it out in a gust of shocked surprise before falling into a choking cough.
Sucks, doesn’t it, Cox,
I hold back the smile behind my smug lips.

Helena, as though immune to Julia’s coughing fit, seems unfazed. “Ooooh,
delicious.
Aren’t you a lucky girl,” she winks, taking a sip of her Champagne, eying me in her delight.

I can’t read this woman. She’s akin to a female version of Ben. His sly smiles flash through my mind and I shiver a little. Maybe those two should hook up.
Humph,
maybe they already have. A second shiver runs down my spine.

I startle slightly as Alex comes up behind me, placing his arm around my waist. “Excuse us ladies, I think I’ll continue making the rounds with my beautiful date. Ten more minutes of flashing my dazzling smile enough, Julia?”

“Alex, don’t you dare cop out of this! People are waiting to see you . . . ” Julia lectures, though he’s already turned us around.

He shoots her a devilish grin over his shoulder. Turning back myself, I can’t help but feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I quite enjoy how he pushes the bossy bitch’s buttons.

“How excruciatingly painful was that?” Alex questions as we walk, nodding his head towards the wicked stepsisters behind us. “I’m sorry for leaving you with the barracudas.”

“It wasn’t bad at all,” my reply is smug. I’m rather pleased with having kept my wits about me during our twisted ‘grouping.’
Oh that’s just gross.
The sudden idea of our little ‘fucked by Alexander Tate threesome’ makes me throw up in my mouth a little.

Donning a nervous smile, I span the room around us.
Good God, I hope it’s just the three of us, at least.