He’s staring at me with unmistakable heat in his eyes as they take in the red pencil dress that hugs every inch of my body. I can see I’ve caught him off guard, but I don’t know why he’d expect anything less. This is the Mercedes he’s always known before he decided to strip me bare.
His gaze trails over the square neckline, over the gentle curves of my cleavage, and down my hips all the way to my black Louis Vuitton heels. He scrubs a hand over his jaw, muttering a curse before his gaze darts back to mine.
“You look beautiful,” he says.
I don’t reply. I’m not in the business of thanking men for compliments after they’ve discarded me. But there is something about the tension in Judge’s body that sets me on guard. I noticed it this morning during our brief interaction when he reappeared. His mind was somewhere else, and I couldn’t help wondering where exactly that was.
I heard him leave late last night as I lay in my bed, staring at the wall with my back to him. He’s still sleeping in my room, which I don’t understand. But I suppose he needs to make sure I don’t off myself in his care and ruin his precious reputation.
That’s what I choose to believe because he’s shown me who he is, and he showed me again last night. When his phone received an incoming text long past reasonable business hours, he didn’t hesitate to answer it before he got up and left.
I stood by the window and watched his car disappear down the long driveway, wondering who it was he was going to see. Which courtesan has so captured his attention that she is able to call him to her in the middle of the night?
As much as I hate to admit it, the reality still chokes the air from my lungs. It burns my skin and makes me wish I could forget the feeling of his hands on my body. The feeling of him inside me. I gave something to him I can’t ever give anyone else, and he chose to stomp all over it.
“Your friends are here,” he informs me. “We’re going to have dinner together.”
I nod and rise on shaky legs, forcing some steel into my backbone as I walk to join him. When I do, he halts me at the door with his fingers on my chin, tipping it up so I’m forced to look at him.
“No games tonight, Mercedes.”
He doesn’t state it like a threat, but I know it is. I can see he’s not in the mood, and quite frankly, neither am I. When it comes to Solana and Georgie, I’m not about to do anything stupid to put them at risk. He would understand that if he truly knew anything about me.
“No games,” I sigh my agreement.
He nods, releasing my face only to press his hand to my lower back and guide me out into the hall. We walk together in silence, both of us seemingly lost in our own thoughts. A nervous flutter stirs in my belly as we near the sitting room, and I’m praying for the strength to hold it together when I see my friends. I’m excited and anxious, though you couldn’t tell from my stone-cold exterior.
When we turn the corner and Judge guides me inside the room, Solana and Georgie both jump up from the sofa to greet me with equal gasps of shock and relief.
“Oh, my God.” Solana wails as she closes the distance between us, dragging me into her arms as she begins to sob. “I thought you were dead, Mercedes!”
I don’t have a moment to speak before Georgie wraps his arms around me too, and I’m engulfed by the two of them. Despite my best efforts, their tears spur my own, and I find myself choking on breaths of air before Judge seems to sense my despair and clears his throat behind us.
“Shall we sit down?”
They both release me reluctantly, Solana holding me at arm’s length as her eyes move over me. I don’t miss the challenge Georgie shoots Judge with his gaze as he strokes my arm and squeezes my hand in his.
“Are you okay, love?” he asks.
“Where have you been?” Solana demands. “We’ve been worried sick.”
My eyes move over them, Solana in her long, witchy black dress with silver bangles adorning her arms. She’s as beautiful as ever. Even as she glares at Judge with her bright green eyes like she’s taking a mental picture for the voodoo doll she’ll make in his likeness. And then there’s Georgie, come to rescue me in his finest suit, a navy-blue affair with a patterned pocket square. They have such a calming, protective presence it makes me feel like myself again, even if it is only for just a moment. God, I have missed them so much.
“Mercedes?” Solana gives me a gentle squeeze, and I realize I still haven’t spoken.
I open my lips, but nothing comes out. That’s when Judge takes it upon himself to intervene, branding his hand around my waist possessively before he pulls me back against him. It’s unexpected, and when I turn to look up at him, his eyes flare as he brushes his fingers over my jaw in an obvious display of ownership.
I don’t have to guess who it’s for. There’s a palpable tension between my friends and him, but most notably, the biggest threat he perceives is Georgie. It’s such a ridiculous notion I almost want to laugh, but I decide to let him make a fool of himself instead by pissing imaginary circles around me.
“I come bearing drinks.” Lois interrupts the moment, dissolving some of the tension as she hands out a wineglass to each of us, with the exception of Judge, who doesn’t take anything.
I find it rather odd but shove my curiosity aside as we all take our seats. Georgie and Solana return to the sofa, and Judge keeps me close to his side on the chaise opposite them.
“So?” Georgie arches a brow at me. “Are we going to get any explanation?”
I don’t miss the way his eyes dart to Judge’s hand around my back in question. That question feels like a what the hell are you doing, Mercedes?
“I’m so sorry I haven’t been in contact,” I begin, trying to gather my thoughts as I speak.
I didn’t really have a plan for how I was going to explain my absence, but I don’t think it matters. There’s nothing I can really say to justify it. All I can hope is that I convince them I’m okay, and they don’t need to worry about me. This is how things are handled in IVI. Society business stays in The Society.