After I’ve showered and brushed my teeth, I step back out into Holt’s bedroom. Standing in the threshold between the bathroom and bedroom, I finally take it all in. I was too hungover and conscious of my terrible breath earlier for it to truly hit me where I am. Holt’s towels feel like they are made of one hundred percent cashmere. Everything here is decked out in gray stone and gold tones. Shit, even the bathroom floor is heated.

My headache has faded, but the memory of Holt’s words before he left for work echo across my body. I’m humming with excitement. It’s terrifying. I remind myself not to fall too hard. There’s still a piece of me that doesn’t believe in this, despite his promise of spanking me when I give the go ahead, and my obsessive need to kiss him again. I’ve seen love’s deception before, and I refuse to fall for it the way they all did.

I press my hand to my bare chest. Shit, what am I going to do about clothes? My dress from last night is no longer on the edge of the bed. Instead, there’s a plain gray T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. On top of them sits my apartment key. But it’s what else is there that catches me by surprise. Next to them sits a black card resting on top of a handwritten note.

My pulse is racing as I tip toe across the warm tile, my hair still dripping wet when I run my fingers along the shirt and pants before picking up the card.

Holt L Capuleti

I reread the name on the card before picking up the note left beneath it.

Wallflower,

These clothes are for you to wear so you can run home and grab your own. Howard will take you. He’ll also take you wherever else you want to go. Use this card to buy whatever you want today, but I have only one condition… pick something to wear for tonight. Anything you want. I won’t tell you where we’re going, but I’ll give you a hint. Make sure to wear a dress. Pick something that gives you that spark and the fire I know that’s inside of you. Something… you.

See you tonight – Holt

After reading the note, I drop it down beside the card.

I stare at it the entire time while I slip on Holt’s shirt and pants. They’re swimming on me, but I remind myself I’m only wearing them until I get back to my place. Shamelessly, I lift the collar of the shirt and bring it to my nose. It smells like him.

I pick up my apartment key and hold it in the palm of my hand. He said he didn’t want me to leave, but he’s giving me the chance. I could take my key and stay home all day, hiding from the rush he gives me.

I’m almost lost in the thought when realization hits.

Holt saw my place last night. Sure he’s been there before, outside, but he’s never stepped inside. But last night, he did.

Without him even in the room, I feel embarrassed. Adam was right the day we broke up. Our worlds are completely different. I will never fit into this one.

I close my hand around my key and slowly walk over to Holt’s closet. It’s strange walking through here without him knowing it, but he did leave me here by myself. Well, Howard is here, but I need a moment to think.

As soon as I step inside the closet, overhead lights illuminate. One by one, they shine a dim light over each shelf and rack. It takes my breath away. I’m almost certain his closet is the same size as his bedroom. I step farther inside, breathing in what I can only describe as Holt’s scent. Everything in here smells like him. Or it could be me. I used his shampoo and body wash, after all.

My hand moves along the rows of suits in his closet. Almost all of them are Armani, with some brands I’ve never heard of. All of them black. I start to add up the numbers in my head, remembering the price of the suit Holt told me he was wearing the day he crashed my yoga class. If these suits are at least the same price as he gave me that day, they would have paid for my college tuition countless times over.

Eventually, I come to a shelf with rolled ties. Again, all black. I can’t explain it but being in here makes me feel closer to Holt. Closer than we’ve ever been before. Like I’m seeing a part of him only few have ever seen.

I take a deep breath, send a silent fuck you to Adam, then leave Holt’s closet to go find Howard.

Iwent with the long, dark blue gown.

After running home and changing into my own clothes, I asked Howard to take me to a designer dress shop. I didn’t know of a single one, but he took me to the one he knew of because of Julianna. I’d thought about asking her for her advice on where to start but wanted to keep this for myself. She was always my go to when it came to fitting into this world—the side Adam claimed I didn’t fit into—but I wanted to do this one on my own. I wanted to own this feeling Holt had given me without the influence of my best friend, his sister.

I’ve told myself all day that spending the day with him like this is momentary. I’ll only allow myself a little taste of it, knowing this feeling will never last. Nothing is permanent, no matter how tempted I am when it comes to Holt. This is all for show.

So, despite my reassurances, I picked the dress I thought spoke to me. A long, royal-blue gown, made of soft fabric, with a low neckline and a high slit. I picked diamond-studded, strappy heels, too that I’m almost certain cost more than a year’s salary, plus a matching bracelet and necklace. It felt strange using Holt’s credit card, and I felt nauseous when I saw the prices. Before I handed his card to the attendant at the designer dress store, I almost stopped myself. Until I received a text from Holt.

Apparently, he’d been anxious all day to finish his meetings so he could see me in what I’d picked out. He was also quick to point out that he hadn’t seen a charge on his card yet, worried I’d flaked out on our date. I swallowed my pride and let the attendant swipe Holt’s too-heavy, black charge card. Within seconds, I received a text that read: Good girl.

I wanted to slap him. Or maybe have him slap my ass.

Hours later, I was finishing cleaning up the kitchen after making lunch for myself when Holt came home from work. The face-splitting grin he’d had when he saw me immediately dropped when he’d seen me cleaning. He told me he had a personal chef and a housekeeper, but I scoffed at him and simply shook my head, telling him I was fully capable of making a sandwich and loading the plate into the dishwasher myself.

I could tell he’d wanted to spank me for that comment by the way he flexed his hand as he headed toward his bathroom to take a shower.

Now, as the sun begins to set, I’m staring at my reflection in the mirror mounted in Holt’s hallway, when he emerges from his bedroom wearing one of the hundreds of black Armani suits I saw this morning.

He stops on the threshold, freezing. Then, with one hand, he slaps his chest, catching himself from falling over with the other. His long fingers grip the doorframe.

“Fuck, Wallflower.” He rubs his hand over his mouth. His silhouette is shadowed by the long hallway, but I feel his intense gaze raking over me. It burns, spreading to the places I’ve been aching to have him touch.

“It isn’t too much, is it?” I ask, looking down. “Or maybe it’s too little. I know it isn’t as flashy as my dress last night but…” I run my hands along the front of my dress, hoping I didn’t take it too far.

“Fuck, no,” he breathes. “It’s perfect.”

When I look up, he’s already marching down the hallway toward me. He steals my breath when he wraps his arm around me and his hand falls to the small of my back, holding me against him. It’s the first time he’s touched me all day.

“You’re stunning.” His eyes remind me of the night on the auction stage, wild and unyielding. “You took my instruction well. This dress is very you.”

“I’m glad you like it.” I smile, reminding my heart to calm down.

Don’t fall for Holt Capuleti. This is for publicity.

Don’t be a fool. Don’t fall for Holt Capuleti.

He jerks me forward, pressing his body against mine. He’s solid and strong, molding me to him. My mind fogs the same way it always does when he’s this close. I try to focus on his gaze searing into mine, but all I want to do is kiss him. I want him to sink between my thighs. I want his cock to fill me so deeply, so fast, so hard. I want him to finally pull me over the edge of the cliff I’ve been toeing for days. In fact, I want him to hurl me over it.

But then my past rears its ugly head, and when I look into Holt’s eyes, I see all my fears. Fear of loss. Fear of getting too close. Fear of this feeling I can no longer deny.

He leans forward, brushing the tip of his nose to mine. “You brushed your teeth.”

I want to laugh. I want to crash my mouth to his.

“I want to kiss you,” he confesses, his eyes darkening. “I take that back. I want to do more. I want to tear this dress off you and fuck you until your screaming my name.”

The wind is knocked from my lungs. Every second Holt grows more confident.

My body is humming with anticipation. “I thought we were saving this for the cameras, Holt Capuleti,” I whisper before clearing my throat.

The light doesn’t die in his eyes as I expect it to. If anything, it grows. “Cameras or not, I don’t give a shit. I’d do it all with you.”

I inhale a sharp breath, a shiver slinking down my spine. “We should go.”

He pauses, blinking. The pressure of his hand on the small of my back lightens. “Okay, Wallflower.”

I suspect Holt has pulled back out of respect, but I can tell he hasn’t let up on his comments. I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was feeling the same, too. I already know by the time we leave wherever we’re going, I’m going to spend the entire night fighting the urge to follow through on what we’re both feeling.

Thirty minutes later, Holt is escorting me into the New York City Opera House, which is opulent, decorated in gold leaf detail and rich, deep maroon drapery. I can’t stop staring at the auditorium in complete and utter awe. The eyes and whispers of some don’t go unnoticed. It’s only seconds before some are pulling out their phones to snap pictures of the two of us together.

I feel a million light years away from my cracked ceiling and the leaky faucet in my kitchen. But somehow, I feel comfortable here. Maybe it’s the dress I’ve picked out, or how Holt hasn’t stopped finding a way to touch me since we left. Cameras or not, he’s held my hand the entire night.

The valet leads us to the private balcony facing the stage that Holt reserved for us. Holt holds his arm out as I take our seat. Just like I’ve seen in the movies, there are two pairs of gold binoculars laid out for us.

He sits beside me on the plush, velvety sofa. Our booth is private. There’s one single door for entry and exit. Thick, long, velvet curtains line the sides of the booth, giving us a small semblance of privacy, but a piece of privacy, nonetheless.

“I’ll be your private server tonight, Mr. and Mrs. Capuleti. If you’ll be requiring anything, please don’t hesitate to let me know.” The young man dressed like a butler is bent at the waist, covered in shadows. The show hasn’t even started and it’s still dark in here. Once it begins, I can only imagine how difficult it will be to see.

I open my mouth to correct him on his assumption that we’re married, but Holt stops me.

“We’d like a single bottle of champagne and two glasses, then we won’t be requiring your services for the rest of the night.”

“Yes, sir.” The server nods once in acknowledgement and disappears.

I cross my legs, and the slit in my dress widens, revealing the smooth skin to my upper thigh. I don’t fix it. Holt’s hand immediately lands on my exposed skin, and there’s the crackling of electricity again. I almost sigh with relief.

Fuck, I definitely won’t be able to hold back tonight. Especially not at this rate.

“What show are we seeing?” I whisper, not tearing my eyes away from the stage. I’ve been too focused on ignoring the constant stares to pay attention to why we are here in the first place.

“Romeo and Juliet,” he says not nearly as quietly as me.

I finally break my attention from the stage to look at him. He’s handsome in the dim lighting. Freshly shaved and clean cut, he’s every bit of the Holt Capuleti I’ve known for years. But being with him like this is different. He’s giving me tiny pieces of who he is at his core.

“This ballet has been playing Romeo and Juliet for decades.” His fingers slip between my pressed thighs. “Our parents used to bring Julianna and me when we were kids. Being here reminds me of when life felt perfect.”

“I get what you mean.” I glance around the auditorium with a warm smile. “My parents used to take us to Coney Island every summer.”

“What is your favorite memory? Of Coney Island?”

“The bumper cars,” I’m quick to answer. “Our parents would join London and me, and the competition was fierce but fun. I don’t think I’d ever seen them laugh as hard as they did then. They were happy.”

The memory cracks open a part of me I’ve kept stitched up for years. But why was it so easy for me to share it with Holt?

“But then again, nothing is as it seems,” I admit, softly. Tears threaten to burn behind my eyes, but I refuse to let my parent’s deceitful nature steal this from me.

“I agree,” Holt whispers, still leaning in. He squeezes my thigh, his eyes glistening in the diluted light. “This place is my Coney Island.”

It’s difficult to breathe. I can’t look away from Holt, his eyes becoming the windows to his soul. My heart breaks for him, knowing the struggle he’s going through with this lawsuit. He hides it well behind his calm demeanor, always buried in his work, but I can tell being here with me is giving him a bit of peace from the chaos that surrounds him.

I understand it, too.

The secret I’m keeping for Julianna sits between us. I’ve been able to put it out of my mind until he brought her up just now. I inhale a deep breath, hoping Julianna doesn’t take too long to tell her brother the truth. The last thing I want is to get between them.

The lights in the auditorium dim as our server returns with the bottle of champagne. It rests in an all-too-fancy bucket of ice. Holt pours me a glass, and I down half of it before the last audience member takes their seat below and the stage curtains open.

We sit in silence, but all I can think about is Holt’s hand pressed firmly between my thighs. My body is screaming for his touch. I want more. I need more.

His silence is agonizing in the best way.

With my heart racing a million miles a minute, I’m all too aware of Holt’s presence. We’re both pretending to pay attention to the ballet, but all I can think about is him, and I know he feels the same way every time he squeezes my thigh just a little. I’m already soaking wet, begging for the orgasm I’ve been denied for days.

I uncross my legs, and Holt lets out an audible hiss.

Romeo and Juliet continue to dance delicately across the stage, the longing on their faces evident from where we’re sitting. The show is beautiful and moving. There’s something about the forbidden nature of their love, the longing glances. All of it is overwhelming. I tuck my bottom lip under my teeth, realizing I haven’t felt this way ever.

Between the ballet and Holt’s touch, I feel everything now. I feel it all.

I hiccup on a breath as Holt’s hand slides up my thigh. I sigh, my eyes fluttering. Then he leans close to my ear, his hot breath brushing across it as he whispers, “It’s killing me, I mean absolutely killing me, not being able to kiss you right now, Wallflower.”

My eyes snap open, and I place my hand over his, dragging it up the rest of my thigh, pressing his fingers firmly against my throbbing pussy.

Wide eyed, I turn to face him. “Then, kiss me.”

Hungry and wanting, he doesn’t waste time. He closes the gap between us, pressing his mouth starvingly against mine. It’s strong yet soft, and he groans as his lips mold to mine.

I’m gasping for air, a jolt of electricity jump starting my heart. He reaches across, gripping the side of my face. His fingers get lost in my long, wavy hair, pulling me impossibly closer.

I grip his arm, letting my hand slide over the soft, silken fabric of his black suit. The orchestrated music in the background booms and vibrates through the auditorium. It’s amazing how we’re in a room filled with people but are somehow still in our own bubble.

The hand he has pressed against my pussy moves to my hip, pulling me up out of my seat and onto his lap. My dress parts, bunching at the waist. As soon as I’m sitting in Holt’s lap, I feel his length against my wetness. My barely-there, thin lace thong is soaked as I rock my hips against his stone-hard cock. I know I’m destroying his insanely expensive suit, but Holt must not care because he moves his hand under my dress, around the curve of my ass, to the small of my back, encouraging me to grind against him harder.

His mouth hasn’t broken away from mine when he bites my lip, grunting as I roll my hips. I moan against his mouth, gasping as my clit brushes against his zipper.

“I want you, Holt,” I breathe, tilting my head up to give him access to my neck. I try to quiet my mewls, instead focusing on the heat coursing through my body. It’s as if I’ve been drowning in an endless ocean, finally coming up for air.

“Tell me how badly you want me.” He reaches between us, shoving my thong aside and pressing his fingers to my swollen, aching clit.

I gasp, arching my back.

“Consider your lies, Wallflower,” he warns softly. “You have no idea how badly I want to spank you right now.”

His other hand slips down to the full curve of my ass cheek. He palms it, jerking me forward. I’m caught between both his hands, and although we’re in our own private area, we’re still in public. I’m almost certain if I allowed myself to fully cry out, the entire opera house would be able to hear me.

He trails his mouth down my neck and along my collarbone.

“I haven’t given you the word yet,” I tell him, grinding against his hand. My body is humming and vibrating. It feels even better than the time in the elevator. “Even if I did, we couldn’t. Not here.”

“So, you’re saying it’s a possibility?” He slips his fingers down my slit before plunging them inside me.

My mouth falls open and I don’t think. I lose all hesitation and give him a coy smile. “Maybe.”

His gaze softens as his fingers work inside me, tugging on the part of me I’ve left dormant for so long. “You have no idea what you do to me. What you’ve done to me all this time. I’ve dreamed endlessly of this. Of you.”

“Please,” I beg, shamelessly. I look down at Holt, pressing my hands around his gorgeous face. I kiss him once before looking him in the eye and confessing, “I want your cock to fill me. I want you to make me come harder than ever. I want you to fuck me, Holt. Fuck me like you’ve wanted to for the past six years.”

His eyes darken, the blues in them sharpening in the pale light. His fingers pull out of me, and then he’s scrambling to undo his belt and the zipper of his pants.

I don’t believe giving in completely to your feelings. I’ve seen the devastation it can cause. No one can truly love someone else, not wholly. But I see Holt’s truth in this moment. He meant it when he said he sees me. He’s watched me for years, wanting this. Slipping down this rabbit hole with him, I surrender, telling myself it’s only temporary. I’ll feel this, then go back to pretending.

I lean down and press my lips to his jaw, then his neck. Being this close and feeling him this way is freeing. Terrifying and freeing. I know we’re crossing a line. Being here, not in the view of the public, yet still in public, is the perfect metaphor for our situation. I’m asking Holt to relieve whatever this is between us without a single person glancing in our direction.

The other guests in their booths across the way can’t see us. At least, I don’t believe they can. They’re too focused on the performance on stage, and we’re covered in shadows.

I rise up slightly as Holt grips onto his cock, guiding me over him. Then he slams me down.

My teeth sink into my lip, stifling my cries as he fills me. I wish this stupid fucking dress wasn’t between us. I need his hands on me. His mouth biting down on my peaked nipples that are aching to be touched. Still, though, this feeling consumes me.

I never once wanted to be touched by Adam but with one look, one whisper, I want Holt.

“Fuck, your pussy is so tight.” He groans against my neck. “God, Wallflower…”

I move subtly, rocking my hips just enough to move along Holt’s long, thick cock. It reaches deep inside me, and with every move it becomes more difficult not to cry out with pleasure. Difficult not to scream. Difficult not to want this to end but also not end at all.

“Holt… right there…” I whisper in his ear.

The orchestra plays another song, the chords and melodies striking louder and faster. Closing my eyes, I sink into this feeling building inside me. I’m wound tightly, like all the tension I’ve carried around me for years is on the verge of unraveling and spinning out of control. Like one of those wind-up toy cars, each thrust brings on another onslaught of explosions. Tiny bursts of electricity hum through my veins and across my skin. I’m still dressed, but Holt makes it a point to drag his mouth across every exposed inch of skin. My shoulders, the swell of my breasts, the base of my throat.

I comb my fingers through his hair before he’s urging me to look down at him.

His blue eyes shine in the shadows.

We simply stare into each other’s eyes as I move above him. He lifts his hips slightly, but he doesn’t need to do much. My jaw falls, and I’m gasping for air, lungs burning.

Holt’s sparkling eyes search my face as he reaches between us again and presses his fingers to my clit. A new surge of adrenaline courses through me.

“Unravel for me, Wallflower.”

With his other hand, he slams me down again before lifting his free hand to grip the side of my face and pulling me down to kiss him. His lips are soft yet commanding. I melt into them, and within seconds, I’m coming undone. I’m finally falling off the cliff, with Holt’s touch surrounding me. His mouth is pressed to mine, and I slam myself back down, vibrating against him as I come undone.

My movements slow as I ride out my own orgasm, using our kiss to stifle my cries. He still has his hand pressed against my clit as I slide myself along his length several more times before he’s coming, too. His cock pulses inside me, intensifying the rest of my orgasm as his cum fills me.

“Oh, fuck.” He groans against my mouth, barely breaking our kiss. His body wracks beneath me, gripping onto me as his eyes squeeze shut.

His head tips back, resting it on the back of the velvet booth. Running my thumb along his jaw, I lean down and kiss his skin. It’s rough and grating against my mouth, but it pulls me back down to reality.

I push down the feelings Holt has stirred inside me. He’s awakened this part I’ve tried to hide from. Like flicking a lighter in a dark room. It’s a tiny flame but it’s unmistakable.

I’m coming down from my orgasm, staring at my hand pressed to Holt’s chest, when I get an overwhelming sensation that I’ve crossed a line that I can’t go back on. I’ve taken the path of no return. I’ve given parts of my myself, showed pieces of me, I was never able to show to Adam. Shit, or anyone else for that matter.

The song being played by the orchestra abruptly ends, and the audience bursts into applause. My back is turned to the auditorium, but I don’t need to see them to know the show is over.

My hand is still cupping the side of Holt’s face when he lifts his head. There’s a dazed look in his eyes, and he cracks a smile. But I can’t bring myself to smile back, because I fear I’ve caught myself in a tangled web. One I want to find a way out of yet surrender my fate to all at the same time.

“Don’t let that light die out, Wallflower.” He tucks my hair behind my ear, not moving me. His cock is still inside me, and I almost want to go again, but I know the lights are bound to turn back on any minute. We can’t risk being brought into the spotlight like this.

“I’m not,” I lie, denying his accusation.

He narrows his eyes at me.

I lean forward and press my mouth to the corner of his, then drag my nose across his cheek. “Appears you’ve caught me in another lie, Mr. Capuleti. Now, tell me, what are you going to do about it?”

I feel the growl rumble against my hand on his chest before he’s lifting me off him. I don’t even have time to clean myself up before he’s zipping his pants and wrapping my hand around his to take us home.