Free Hush (Black Lotus #3) by E K. Blair Page B

getting ready and sharing this moment together—a moment we had to work so hard to get to—a moment so many probably take for granted. I slip on my gown and smooth down the fabric that contours closely to my body. It boasts a high round neck, concealing the dried cum that’s all over my chest, and flows to the floor in a sweeping, fluted hem. The deep green flatters my red hair, and also complements the green in Declan’s plaids.
    I stand in front of the mirror and look myself over with restless hands.
    “Why are you fidgeting?” Declan asks when he steps behind me. “You seem nervous.”
    “I am,” I admit as he runs his hands up and down the length of my arms.
    “Why? You must’ve gone to hundreds of events like this in Chicago. You’re an old pro.”
    “Yeah, but I was always pretending. I’m a good actress, but this is the first time mingling among the upper crust as me . I’m not hiding behind a façade anymore.”
    He plants a kiss on my shoulder. “The real you is so much better than the lie.”
    “I don’t know about that.”
    “I do,” he says and then turns me around. He looks me over from head to toe. “You’re incredibly stunning.”
    I take hold of Declan’s hand to quell my nerves when we arrive at the mansion that was built in the early 1900s. He smiles down at me as we walk to the entrance. When we step inside, my eyes take in the ornate ambiance. The walls are painted ivory with rich gold accents, and heavy ruby drapes fall from the ceiling to the floor. Oil paintings hang from the walls and glow beneath the opulent chandeliers.
    The wood floors that lie beneath the carpet creak under my feet as Declan leads me through the club that has a wealth of history here in London. I take in the men dressed in their kilts and fly plaids and the women in their elegant gowns. And suddenly, without my mask, I feel like an imposter—garbage wrapped in silk—and my stomach turns. So, I quickly decide that even though I have no clue who I am, I’ll do my best to fake it. The last thing I want is to show Declan any more weakness.
    As we walk into the party, I stiffen my spine and feign my place in society with my head held high like I’ve done for years.
    “Declan,” a gentleman who looks to be in his fifties calls out. “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen you.”
    The two of them shake hands.
    “It’s good to see you, Ian. How’ve you been?”
    “Busy as ever,” he says before turning his attention to me, asking Declan, “And who’s this lovely lady?”
    “You’re a charmer,” I lightly flirt and then introduce myself, “Elizabeth Archer.”
    “Lucky man,” Ian notes, to which Declan responds while looking over to me, “Extremely lucky.”
    We continue to mingle and Declan introduces me to old friends and a few business men and their wives. He drinks his typical Scotch and I sip champagne, we share a few dances, and when Declan can’t help himself, he whispers his obscene thoughts in my ear. “I want to take you to another room and suck on that pretty little clit of yours until you cum in my mouth.”
    I drop my forehead to his shoulder as he speaks to me, my neck igniting in heat with each of his obscenities.
    “Just thinking about the taste of your pussy gets my cock—”
    “Declan!” a tall woman with long, dark hair says, interrupting our private moment. “I had no idea you were going to be here!” Annoyance rankles me when she pulls Declan in for a hug.
    “Last minute move,” he tells her, composed as ever.
    “Move? You’re living here now?”
    “I am.”
    “So I take it you purchased the land to build on?” she asks, and a trill of jealousy creeps alive in me with how much she knows.
    “Davina, this is Elizabeth,” he introduces.
    “Yes, I remember you. You were at the charity gala in Edinburgh last month, right?”
    And then I remember. She was Declan’s date that night, hanging on his arm and constantly by his side.
    “That’s right. And you are