For King and Country by Geneva Lee

long since I’d really pampered myself.
    Belle could run a beauty salon with the amount of product she kept on hand, and before long, I had freshly pedicured feet. I padded through the flat, careful not to stub my still-drying toenails, and headed for her room. She’d given me carte blanche access to her closet to find something to wear, because as she put it, you are leaving the house in a pair of jeans over my dead body .
    I couldn’t help marveling at how organized her closet was already. I liked my things neat and well-ordered, but there was no way I could have unpacked my belongings as quickly and efficiently as she had, even though I had a quarter of the clothing.
    I ran my fingers down the assortment of dresses that hung according to their length, stopping in the middle near the closer to knee-length dresses. Most of them fell under the family celebration category, meaning they looked a little too much like something a British monarch might wear.
    Alexander’s grandmother , I realized.
    That definitely wasn’t going to work. I knew Belle would push me toward the shorter dresses, but the last thing I wanted was to feel self-conscious right off the bat. I’d never arranged anything this close to a booty call before, and as aroused as I was over Alexander’s promise that he needed to screw me all day, it was getting harder to silence my rational side. Without his presence—without the inexorable pull I felt around him—I could see more clearly the reasons I should stay away.
    One time , I promised myself. And then it’s over.
    It was late spring in London, which meant the weather was a little fickle but tended toward warmer temperatures. I rifled through the hangers, discovering Belle had a serious ball gown problem. No one could possibly need this many fancy dresses. Shoved between a Jenny Packham evening gown and a Vera Wang in champagne silk, I found exactly what I was looking for.
    Stripping down, I tried on the flowing maxi dress. It was sleeveless, but its sweetheart neckline would support my bust, a problem Belle didn’t usually need to worry about. It was a soft shade of blue—romantic and dreamlike, which was a reflection of how I felt. With my freshly painted toenails, I’d be able to rock a pair of sandals for the first time this season. It wasn’t the amped up ensemble my friend would pick out for me, but with its low neckline and figure-skimming fabric, it was plenty sexy enough.
    Belle arrived back half an hour after I’d completed her checklist, holding an Agent Provocateur bag triumphantly over her head. To my surprise, she wholly approved of the dress I’d chosen.
    “It will go perfectly with this.” She opened the carefully wrapped tissue to reveal a pale lace bra and panty set that sparkled silver when she held it up. The set was delicate and feminine, managing to scream sex and wealth at the same time.
    I took one look at the price tag and knew why.
    “I’m paying you back for this.”
    Belle waved off my declaration, her lips curving as I held up the sexy lingerie. She knew I wouldn’t have bought it for myself. Not because I didn’t have the money, but because I’d never had a reason to before. She grabbed the bra out of my hand and snapped off the price tag.
    “No going back now,” she purred.
    I snatched it away, pressing it to my chest as I imagined what it would be like to wear it, which only resulted in me thinking about why I would be wearing this. Heat flooded my cheeks as I pictured wearing this in front of Alexander. I’d worn lingerie before, but nothing as exquisite as this. It was beautiful and sexy and delicate —as delicate as the arrangement between him and me.

    The nerves hit me as soon as I woke up in the morning. My stomach rolled at the thought that in a few short hours I was going to possibly be making the biggest mistake of my life or maybe the best decision of my life. The jury was still out on how bad an idea it was. Grabbing a shower, I tried not to