Free Blue Bloods by Melissa de La Cruz Page B

dress.
    “I’ll take these,” Mimi said. “And what do we have here?” she cooed, finding a wisp of chiffon on a padded hanger.
    She brought the dress into the dressing room and emerged a few minutes later in a devastating leopard print Roberto Cavalli silk gown. She looked at herself in the mirror. The dress was slashed down from neck to navel, revealing her pale, ivory skin, and ended in a haze of feath ers that fluttered down her calves.
    ” Bellissima.”
    Mimi looked up. A handsome Italian man was staring at her, his eyes resting on her exposed cleavage.
    She covered herself with her hands and displayed her curvy back to him. Her black thong peeked above the waist. “Zip me up?”
    He walked over and put a finger underneath the strap of her thong, toying with the lacy fabric.
    Her skin tingled with goose bumps at his touch. He stroked the crescent underside of her back, stopping right above her lower hip. He smiled at her in the mirror and she returned his smolder.
    He looked to be in his early twenties, twenty-three tops. A gold Patek Philippe glinted on his wrist. She recognized him from the society pages. A famous Manhattan playboy, who was rumored to have sent half the society girls in the 10021 ZIP code into therapy .
    “That dress is wasted on you here,” he said, as he pulled the zipper up slowly.
    Mimi took a step back, arching her neck and observing how the dress barely covered her nipples.
    Definite side cleav age.
    “Then why don’t we go somewhere else?” Mimi asked, her eyes sparkling dangerously. She could sense the blood beneath his skin, almost taste the rich, luscious, pulp in his veins. No wonder she’d been feeling irritable and weak— with all the distress from Aggie’s funeral, she’d hardly had any time for a new boy.
    Some people would probably advise a young girl not to step inside a stranger’s Lamborghini. But as Mimi folded her legs inside the passenger seat, her black Barneys shopping bags safely stowed in the trunk, she could only smile to her self. She was still wearing the Roberto Cavalli dress.
    He revved up the engine and powered the accelerator, quickly shifting gears so that the flat, yellow sports car screeched up Madison . He gazed at her with a predatory hunger, and when he placed his right arm over her backrest, he rested a heavy hand on her shoulder.
    Instead of protesting, Mimi drew his hand farther down so that it rested on her cleavage, feeling exhilarated as he squeezed her breast through the thin fabric with the one hand, and with the other, maneuvered the car deftly down the avenue.
    “Is good, yes?” he asked with a heavy Italian accent.
    “Very good.”She licked her lips slowly.
    He had no idea what he was in for.

TWELVE
    “Tell me again what happened.”
    Bliss sat on the white leather recliner in Dr. Pat’s office. Her parents had made the appointment after she’d woken them up last night, screaming her lungs out.
    “Yesterday, you were at the temple,” Dr. Pat prodded.
    “Right.The Egyptian wing at the Met,” Bliss agreed. “He’d just taken his hands away from my eyes, and I saw the temple.” She was sitting on a white Eames fiberglass lounge chair in a treatment room. She wasn’t exactly sure what kind of doctor “Dr. Pat” was. It looked like a dermatologist’s office, but she also saw several pregnant women getting ultrasounds in the other rooms.
    “Yes, you said that.”
    “And then—” She blushed. “I think he was about to kiss me. I think he did kiss me, but then, I don’t know—I blacked out. The next thing I knew, I was just walking around with him in the American wing looking at furniture.”
    “And that’s all you remember?”
    “I remember screaming.”
    “You were screaming?”
    “No, someone was screaming. Far away.” Bliss said. She looked around at Dr. Pat’s office. It was the cleanest, whitest office she had ever been in. She noticed that even the med ical instruments gleamed and were arranged artfully