VEGAS

Chapter 7: Little Red Dress - Juno's POV

I give myself a once over in the mirror again, making sure I look like I'm not trying. I went for a low cut dress today, solely to capture Christopher's attention. After our encounter yesterday, I think it won't be hard to have him where I want him.

Between my legs. As forbidden as it sounds.

And before you judge me, remember that I'm not the one that has the woman problem. He is. Yesterday in the maze, he was practically all over me. Undressing me with his eyes and feeling my face with his bastard hands. All I'm doing is steering us to the direction he wants us to go.

Is it wrong? Definitely, yes.

Do I care? Hm...I'll think about that.

I bend a little forward, and the neckline of my dress reveals just the perfect amount of cleavage. His eyes definitely won't be off me today, that's for sure.

"Do you plan on having breakfast with the family or will you stare at yourself all day?"

Oliver's reflection comes into view behind me in the mirror. His hair is still slightly damp from his shower, and his skin is perfectly moisturized from his body products.

Contrary to what the magazines made me believe, he hates wearing suits. He's almost never in them, actually. He's dressed in a pastel blue dress shirt with sparkling white shorts and loafers, and his hands are tucked smoothly into his pockets.

His soft and dead brown eyes are on me, waiting for a response. But all the words are locked in my throat, because I'm trying to keep the heat between my legs controlled.

"Juno?"

"Yes...uh...I'm right behind you."

He looks at me for a beat longer, his eyes flickering to my cleavage only for a second, then he turns away. "I don't like that dress. Change it before you leave the room."

The heat between my legs instantly cool off as I'm once again reminded that I can't stand him and his orders and...and...stuck up attitude.

"What is wrong with my dress?"

"You look straight out from the club. That's what's wrong with it."

"Must you make everything I do about my job?"

He turns back to me with that half a millimeter smile on his lips. "Everything you do is proof that you're a slut."

I freeze, but not in the way that you think. You see, when I'm about to hit someone, I give it a serious thought and then ignore good reasoning and hit the person anyway.

Before he can process, my hand hits his cheek, sending him a step back and his face twists to the side. My vision is blurred red with anger and my chest is heaving.

"What. Did. You. Call. Me?"

His hand rubs his cheek and when his eyes meet mine, they're...amused?

"A slut," he repeats, like I didn't just slap him for saying that very word. "Honestly, I don't have the time to pamper your feelings, Juno. Breakfast is getting cold."

He turns away again and begins heading for the door, but then he pauses and faces me. "You won't touch me again, unless we're in the presence of my family. Because I assure you, the next time you hit me is the last time you'll have hands to hit me." He grabs the door handle. "Oh, and change out of that dress, or this deal is off and your mother will die with her heart disease."

He shuts the door behind him and leaves me standing mute. The bastard! How dare he??!

"HOW DARE HE?!" I scream, throwing the nearest thing I can grab across the room.

"Oliver...you son of a–"

"Are you okay in there, miss?" A maid from the other side calls.

I gulp down my string of curses and smile even though she can't see me. "I'm fine."

I hear her hesitate for a little while before she retreats from the door. When she's gone, I reach for another object, a book this time, I haul it at the window.

It flies straight out.

I stand there for a full minute after the book disappears through the window, my chest rising and falling like I just ran a mile. My whole body is on fire, shaking with that kind of rage that controls your bones.

I need to calm down. I need to stay calm and stay in control. I force myself to breathe, slow...in and out until I feel the calm take over me.

He wants me to change the dress her? To look less slutty...is that what he said?

Well, I know just what will do the trick.

I laugh under my breathe and walk back to the wardrobe.

If I’m going to be paraded like some trophy fiancee, then I’ll make sure they choke on the sight of me. All of them.

I pull out a cherry red mini gown and let the fabric slide through my fingers. It’s obscene in the most deliberate way. The kind of dress you wear when you want to be remembered against someone’s will.

It clings to my body like it was sewn directly onto my skin, the neckline plunging far lower than the last one ever dared. The back is completely bare, nothing but smooth skin and a thin strap holding it together like a secret that could snap.

I slip it on with a gleeful smile and my reflection in the mirror returns the smile. He called me a slut, didn't he?

Better I dress like one.

I sweep my hair up into a neat bun, exposing my neck, my shoulders, every soft place someone might imagine pressing their mouth. A touch of gloss. A touch of perfume. Nothing too much, but definitely over the line.

By the time I leave the room, I’m calm and determined to ruin Oliver's morning and win Christopher's attention so I can move on ahead with my plan.

When I get to the dining room, everywhere falls silent.

Millie gasps first. Tillie follows a heartbeat later, identical expressions blooming across their identical faces.

“Oh my God, Juno.”

“Where did you get that dress?”

Hazel’s hand flies to her chest as she smiles, warm and genuine. “You look absolutely stunning, darling.” Then she pouts a little. "But isn't this too much for breakfast?"

"Nothing is too much mom," Millie groans. "You're just too boring."

I smile back, slow and pleased, already aware of the two silences at the table.

Oliver doesn’t react at first. His face is smooth, composed and unreadable as usual. Then I see it. The subtle tightening of his jaw and his hands curling into fists beneath the table.

Christopher doesn’t even bother pretending.

His eyes track me openly, greedily, like I’m something placed there just for him. He doesn’t look away. Not once.

Tch. Shameless, truly.

I walk toward my seat, hips swaying the way they do when I'm about to get a customer at the club to spend money and before I can pull out the chair, Christopher is on his feet.

“Allow me.”

His hand brushes my bare back as he holds the chair for me. It’s light. Casual. Intimate. My skin crawls, a shiver running through me that’s half disgust, half triumph.

Honestly, this is too easy.

“Thank you,” I say sweetly as I sit.

The twins immediately lean in, peppering me with questions about the dress.

"Prada?" Millie asks.

"Don't be silly," Tillie counters. "Prada doesn't make dresses this sexy. My bet is on Yves St Laurent?"

I giggle. "You're right."

"Red is your color. Never wear anything that isn't red." Hazel chuckles. "I'm serious."

"Yes, future mother in-law."

I reach for Oliver's hand, smiling at him and he's forced to break into character. He smiles back at me and squeezes my hand, but his eyes...oh, those dead eyes, glare into my soul.

Someone is stewing in the inside. I love it.

His grip on my hand tightens just a bit and I pull away before he breaks my fingers. Breakfast is served shortly after and everything is mouth watering.

They even brought out the caviar this morning! Imagine that! The first time in my life I'd ever get to taste this treat.

But...where's the drama in happily receiving my food, eh?

“Is this the only caviar you’re serving?” I ask lightly, gesturing to the black delicacy.

The head maid stiffens and Christopher’s head snaps up like an antenna.

“What?” His voice hardens instantly. “Haven't I always mentioned that there should be options?”

“It’s fine,” I start to say, but he’s already waving a hand dismissively.

“This is unacceptable. I’ll handle it.” He smiles at me before he pushes back from his seat and storms off toward the kitchen, barking orders as he goes.

I catch Hazel’s eye and notice how tired they seem all of a sudden. The smile in them is gone, replaced with worry.

“Christopher,” she sighs, “it’s too early for this.”

He returns moments later with a different tin of caviar and a fresh bottle of wine that probably costs more than my childhood home.

"Too early for variety?" He grunts, pulling open the tin to reveal the pretty orange eggs and handing it over to me.

Hazel frowns. “It’s far too early to drink.”

Oliver nods once. “I agree.”

I shrug, lifting my shoulders just enough to remind everyone my back is bare. “I don’t mind.”

That’s all it takes.

He pours the wine himself, generous, deliberate, watching my glass fill like his life depends on it. "You see? She doesn't mind. As a matter of fact, everyone is drinking. My orders."

He pours himself a glass and passes the bottle to Hazel who takes it hesitantly. She pours herself a little bit and then passes it round until everyone has a bit in their glasses.

Then Christopher raises his glass.

“A toast,” he says. “To Oliver and Juno. A beautiful couple. May your future be just as… rewarding.”

His eyes never leave me as he takes a sip. Everyone raises their glass to the toast as well, and my eyes turn to Oliver who is already looking at me.

He takes a little sip and sets his glass down, but his eyes never leave me. Not even when I turn to face his father. I still feel his eyes on me, but I don't give it any thought.

I'm probably never going to hear the end of the stunt I just pulled, but that's a little price to pay for the bigger picture.

I lift my glass, meeting Christopher's gaze through the rim, my smile slow and knowing as I take a sip, chuckling inwardly.

Look at me playing daddy’s pet. How iconic.