"I still think this is a fucking terrible idea," I mumble to myself, clutching the garment bag.
Seven years ago, Chad built a nightclub empire and Eliza began promoting it. She felt like she owed the guy. He was several grades ahead of her, but had her back in high school more times than she could count. His clubs now thrive—all thanks to her.
New Year's Eve is Chad's biggest event of the year. We go all out. Daring outfits and attractive people consuming copious amounts of alcohol to help forget the previous twelve months—along with any bad decisions we make that night.
Once a year I dress outside of my comfort zone and give Eliza complete creative freedom. Tonight is that night.
Tonight I choose confidence.
In most places, Halloween is the holiday people use as an excuse to dress sexy, but not in New York City. And not when it comes to my best friend. Not that she needs a reason.
Despite the fact that Chad is a grade-A douchebag, these parties have become a tradition for us. Even when the theme two years ago was personally offensive.
CEO's and office hoes wasn't just a coincidence.
The vinyl garment bag crinkles as I slide the zipper down, revealing a stunning crystal mini. I gasp and comb my fingers through the fringe, admiring the individually sewn jewels.
Why am I not surprised Eliza had custom outfits made for all of us before we even agreed to attend this party?
A rhinestone pearl headpiece hangs above a white floor length coat. The faux fur collar hugs the modern day flapper dress.
She would pick the 1920s for Axel and me.
I carefully guide the heavy dress over my thighs and move it up my body. The gaping V-neck and backless design makes me feel naked. Long beaded sleeves give the illusion I'm wearing more material, but the sheer fabric underneath the crystals shows literally everything. Boobs, ass cheeks, and all.
A box of adhesive pasties and a nude thong sits at the bottom of the bag.
She thinks of everything.
With a shake of my head, I slide on the panties. I turn the dress to the side and stick on each nipple cover. Placing the headpiece over my styled finger waves, I tie the champagne ribbon into a bow. I run mascara through my fake lashes and do a once-over in the mirror.
Throwing a red lipstick into my bag, I make my way to my best friend's room. Light floods the space as I flip the switch and spot my strappy silver heels in the corner next to her nightstand. I knew she stole them!
Bracing a hand against her headboard, I secure the buckles around my ankles. The heels echo off the walls as I hurry towards the kitchen to meet Axel.
Getting ready without Liza really isn't the same, but she and Mickey wanted their costumes for the decade party to be a surprise.
Knowing them, clothing will be optional.
Everything seems to be going perfectly to plan. Tony was nice enough to spare extra security guards and Axel hired a car service. Chad even texted, reassuring me Jack wouldn't be in attendance. And yet, that anxious feeling in the pit of my stomach screams something's going to go wrong.
Nothing tequila can't fix.
"Ready?" Axel asks. He lounges on a kitchen stool, bracing one leg along the foot bar.
While he stares at his phone, I check him out. An open black pea coat frames his toned physique, exposing a charcoal suit with a matching bow tie. A silver watch fob passes through the buttonhole of his vest. My gaze follows the chain to his pocket continuing all the way down to his—
YOU ARE READING
Don't Mask, Don't Tell
Romance"Last weekend never happened." That's what Olivia Graham repeatedly told herself after her earth-shattering encounter with him. And yet, she couldn't shake the way her lips burned when she recalled his kiss or the phantom sensation of his fingertip...
