mirror and crossed her arms over her chest. Pinkie turned her to face him and pushed her arms aside. As he gazed at her, his eyes turned dark. His breath rushed over her skin.
"I knew it," he said in a rough voice."That's the perfect setting for that stone."
He pulled her toward the bed, ignoring her mild protests."Pinkie, I'm already dressed."
"That's what bidets are for." He pushed her back onto the pillows, then followed her down.
Always potent, Pinkie's sex drive was never as strong as following a successful trial. This evening he was particularly urgent. It was over in a matter of minutes. Remy still had on her shoes and stockings but her hair and makeup had suffered his aggressive lovemaking. He rolled off her and reached for his drink, finishing it as he left the bed.
Whistling softly, he crossed the bedroom and went into his separate dressing area.
Remy turned onto her side and stacked her hands beneath her cheek.
She dreaded beginning the dressing procedure all over again. In fact, given a choice, she would go to sleep where she lay and skip the party altogether. She had started out the day feeling tired, and the lethargy was still weighing her down. However, the last thing she wanted was for Pinkie to notice her lack of energy, which she'd been hiding from him for weeks.
She forced herself to get up. She was filling her tub with another bath when he emerged from his dressing room, freshly showered and shaved, dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit. He looked at her with surprise."I thought you'd be ready."
She raised her hands helplessly."It's easier to start over than try and repair. Besides, I don't like using a bidet."
He pulled her close and gave her a teasing kiss."Maybe I left you in that convent school a semester too long. You developed some awfully prissy habits."
"You don't mind if I'm a little late making an appearance, do you?"
He gave her fanny a pat, then released her."You'll be ravishing and well worth the wait." At the door, he added, "Remember to wear something sexy, black, and low-cut."
Remy lingered in her second bath. Downstairs, she could hear the musicians tuning their instruments. Before long, the guests would start to arrive. Until the wee hours, they would gorge themselves on rich food and strong drink. There would be music, laughter, dancing, flirtation, and talk, talk, talk.
Just the thought of it made her sigh wearily. Would anyone notice if the mistress of the house decided to stay in her room and skip the party?
Pinkie would.
To commemorate his courtroom victory, he'd bought her another beautiful piece of jewelry to add to a collection that was embarrassingly considerable. He would be offended to know how much she dreaded attending his celebration or how little value she placed on his gift.
But deriving any real joy from his generosity was impossible, because his lovely and expensive gifts were poor substitutes for all that he denied her.
With her head still resting on the rim of her tub, she turned to look toward the dressing table, where the new treasure lay in its satin-lined box. The beauty of this particular stone escaped her. It radiated no warmth and, indeed, looked cold to the touch. Rather than shooting off sparks of fire, the facets glittered with an icy light.
It called to mind winter, not summer. It didn't make her feel happy and fulfilled, but hollow and empty.
Silently, Pinkie Duvall's wife began to cry.
Pinkie made much ado over Remy when she came downstairs.
Possessively taking her arm, he announced that the party could officially begin now that she had joined it. He guided her through the crowd, introducing her to the guests she didn't know, including the bedazzled Bardo trial jurors.
Many of the guests were infamous for their association with scandal, crime, or combinations thereof. Some were rumored to belong to the Metropolitan Crime Commission, but since the membership of that by-invitation-only group of blue bloods was secret, no one
"I knew it," he said in a rough voice."That's the perfect setting for that stone."
He pulled her toward the bed, ignoring her mild protests."Pinkie, I'm already dressed."
"That's what bidets are for." He pushed her back onto the pillows, then followed her down.
Always potent, Pinkie's sex drive was never as strong as following a successful trial. This evening he was particularly urgent. It was over in a matter of minutes. Remy still had on her shoes and stockings but her hair and makeup had suffered his aggressive lovemaking. He rolled off her and reached for his drink, finishing it as he left the bed.
Whistling softly, he crossed the bedroom and went into his separate dressing area.
Remy turned onto her side and stacked her hands beneath her cheek.
She dreaded beginning the dressing procedure all over again. In fact, given a choice, she would go to sleep where she lay and skip the party altogether. She had started out the day feeling tired, and the lethargy was still weighing her down. However, the last thing she wanted was for Pinkie to notice her lack of energy, which she'd been hiding from him for weeks.
She forced herself to get up. She was filling her tub with another bath when he emerged from his dressing room, freshly showered and shaved, dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit. He looked at her with surprise."I thought you'd be ready."
She raised her hands helplessly."It's easier to start over than try and repair. Besides, I don't like using a bidet."
He pulled her close and gave her a teasing kiss."Maybe I left you in that convent school a semester too long. You developed some awfully prissy habits."
"You don't mind if I'm a little late making an appearance, do you?"
He gave her fanny a pat, then released her."You'll be ravishing and well worth the wait." At the door, he added, "Remember to wear something sexy, black, and low-cut."
Remy lingered in her second bath. Downstairs, she could hear the musicians tuning their instruments. Before long, the guests would start to arrive. Until the wee hours, they would gorge themselves on rich food and strong drink. There would be music, laughter, dancing, flirtation, and talk, talk, talk.
Just the thought of it made her sigh wearily. Would anyone notice if the mistress of the house decided to stay in her room and skip the party?
Pinkie would.
To commemorate his courtroom victory, he'd bought her another beautiful piece of jewelry to add to a collection that was embarrassingly considerable. He would be offended to know how much she dreaded attending his celebration or how little value she placed on his gift.
But deriving any real joy from his generosity was impossible, because his lovely and expensive gifts were poor substitutes for all that he denied her.
With her head still resting on the rim of her tub, she turned to look toward the dressing table, where the new treasure lay in its satin-lined box. The beauty of this particular stone escaped her. It radiated no warmth and, indeed, looked cold to the touch. Rather than shooting off sparks of fire, the facets glittered with an icy light.
It called to mind winter, not summer. It didn't make her feel happy and fulfilled, but hollow and empty.
Silently, Pinkie Duvall's wife began to cry.
Pinkie made much ado over Remy when she came downstairs.
Possessively taking her arm, he announced that the party could officially begin now that she had joined it. He guided her through the crowd, introducing her to the guests she didn't know, including the bedazzled Bardo trial jurors.
Many of the guests were infamous for their association with scandal, crime, or combinations thereof. Some were rumored to belong to the Metropolitan Crime Commission, but since the membership of that by-invitation-only group of blue bloods was secret, no one
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