Chapter 6, Esmeralda

I think the theme of me being screwed is becoming a bit too recurrent.

First of all, Milo Chase is picking me up in 10 minutes, and I have no idea what to wear to that event.

Second of all, he said, and I quote "don't be late or I'll get there without you," which would technically ruin our first impression as a couple, and since I am a perfectionist, I want everything to go smoothly.

I had planned to go pick a dress this afternoon, but I fell asleep and only woke up at 8 PM, I then spent 30 minutes freaking out, and managed to get my hair and my makeup ready, then made a mess in my room looking for an appropriate dress, which I still haven't found.

So here I am, in a white robe, checking my phone every five seconds in case he calls or sends a text.

I left most of my dresses in my flat New York, because I planned on getting a new wardrobe when I got here, but these two weeks have been so busy with me trying on outfits for my next photoshoots and talking with my manager about schedules that I haven't had the time for anything.

Also, my parents are out for dinner with Rita and Hunter, and some of the domestic workers are on vacation, since it's the middle of summer, so it's just me and my anxiety tonight. And judging by the mess on the floor I'd say we make an amazing pair.

I am still digging in my closet when I receive a text message from the devil himself, telling me that he is here.

I tell him to let himself in, and a few seconds later, there's a knock on my door.

I shout at him to come in and he says, closing the door behind him,

"Greta told me you were in your- What the hell are you doing in a robe ? Why aren't you dressed ?"

Oh he's mad.

I toy with the fabric of the robe and cringe.

"Well, there's a little problem."

He raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms around his chest.

He is way too hot for my hormones to handle right now.

"I'm listening."

"I don't know what to wear."

I wait for him to scream, or even throw his shoe at me or something, but he just looks at me with an intensity that make my cheeks turn red and hot.

Then he starts laughing. Yes, you heard that right. Milo Chase is laughing.

I freeze. I haven't heard him laugh in what looks like a decade, and if I could bottle this exact moment, I would keep it forever locked in a part of my heart.

When his burst of laugher finally ends, he clears his throat, as if realizing what he just did and scolds, "You have an endless wardrobe, plus you're a model and you don't know what to wear ? What kind of dumbassery is that ?"

"Dumbassery is not a word, you idiot, and me being a model is irrelevant. And I left almost everything in New York. And I can't find anything appropriate in here."

Even if he is quite annoying, I am grateful for the decency he is acting with instead of the cold mask he was wearing the other night at the charity gala.

He rolls his eyes and advances towards me, his muscled body is huge compared to mine as he walks toward my big closet.

He starts looking at the dresses and throws everything he doesn't like on the floor.

After a few moments of looking into my closet, he pulls out a long black dress, that has a slit going from the bottom to the tight and and a deep low-cut that is way too showy for my tastes. I don't even know how it got in here in the first place.

"Wear this." He throws the dress at me and moves past me to get to the doorway. When he reaches it, he opens the door and says over his shoulder, "You better not make me wait another 10 minutes."

⌁

By the time Milo and I get to the place where the event is taking place, I have already burned my social battery. The ride was very awkward and every time I tried to make small talk he would grunt or simply not answer, so I gave up.

Before exiting the car, he says, "Game on."

Game on.

I get ready to leave too but he surprisingly opens the door for me and I am instantly blinded by the hundreds of cameras, flashes and of people screaming our names.

Milo merely passes a hand around my waist and a chill goes through me at his burning touch, then manages to get us inside before my legs give out from nervousness.

I smile and wave at everyone I know, and even have conversations with some important personalities.

Paparazzi ask us questions about our relationship and I mostly let Milo answer, because my anxiety levels are through the roof, even if his presence beside me is somehow comforting.

"We are still figuring it out ourselves, but I'm liking how this is going so far." Is the only answer he gives everyone, making a good show of looking at me with his "fuck me" eyes. My blush isn't really faked, to be honest.

Men are openly eying me, which makes me self-conscious and I put my champagne glass down and wrap my arms around my body, as if this is going to stop them from staring.

Milo clearly notices and steps closer to me, leaning into my ear to whisper, "Let them see you, you're gorgeous."

My heart skips a beat in my chest and I hope the makeup conceals my cheeks that must be turning a tomato color by now.

I give him a genuine smile and put a hand on his chest.

"You're not so bad yourself."

And to my own surprise, he smiles back. I'm pretty sure I imagined it, because there's no way he just smiled at me, right ?

The brown haired handsome man doesn't leave my side, and by the time the party comes to an end, I am at my 6th glass of champagne and I do feel a little bit drunk.

I try not to fall over while he leads me to the car and opens the door for me.

It's strange how everything he does looks graceful.

Once he gets in the driver's seat, he looks at me with those "sex me" eyes again and maybe it's just because of my fuzzy brain but I can swear I see his eyes soften.

"I told you it was enough champagne for the night at your second glass, Esmeralda."

He did, but every time he looked away I would find the nearest waiter and snatch a glass from him. I know I was acting like a crazy alcoholic but the fact that he was there with me, and not trying to strangle me or insulting me was too unsettling, so I needed the distraction.

I bat my eyelashes at him, in an attempt at a seductive look but all I get is a roll of eyes as he starts up the car.

"You're no fun." I pout.

"And you're drunk." He snaps.

"That went well, though." I change the subject.

"At least we didn't have to kiss." He groans.

I sigh. Of course he had to ruin it by insinuating that he would hate kissing me.

"There was a time when you had no problem doing just that." I try to sound teasing but it just comes out cold.

I put my head against the window and close my eyes, not wanting to hear him answer.

I might have dozed off, because when I open my eyes we have arrived to my house.

Milo stares at me then says, his voice rasp.

"Can you walk, or do I have to carry you all the way to your room ?"

I chuckle softly, "I think I'd rather if you carried me."

Oh, I know how much I'll regret this tomorrow.

"Alright." Is the only thing he says before he leaves the car and opens the passenger's seat door.

And look at that, he really is carrying me.

I even touch his biceps, straining his black shirt.

Have I mentioned he's very hot ? Because that's very much worth mentioning.

I close my eyes and rest my head against his chest, feeling surprisingly calm and rested.

We must have reached my room because I feel him lay me down on a bed and I groan when I'm pulled away from his warmth.

I slowly open my eyes and see him handing me a bottle of water and an Ibuprofen he found on my nightstand.

"You'll thank me tomorrow."

I take them from him and swallow the pill.

I lay back down, closing my eyes as the devil gently tucks me in, and a few seconds later I hear his steady footsteps halt.

I don't know how much time he spends just standing there, breathing loudly, but I am too drunk to notice, or care.

"What are you doing to me ?" He whispers.

When the sound of his expensive shoes on floor fade, I know he is gone.

Sleep swallows me whole, but even in my dreams, I can feel his strong burning body around me.

What are you doing to me too, Milo Chase ?