On my way home, I received three text messages from Olivia.

Olivia: Vivi, please, I'm sorry. Come back. Let's talk.

I rolled my eyes. If I went back, she'd attack me with her lips again, and she'd get even more handsy. And as much as that made me pulsate with desire—another rung of that forbidden fruit ladder; I had a habit, apparently—it couldn't happen. I wouldn't let her rope me in.

Olivia: Okay, I overstepped. We're not together anymore. But it was fun, wasn't it? Why not try, like, no-strings-attached?

I nearly hurled my phone out the window.

The nerve of her, implying we could sleep together with no consequences. Her and I? The drama that would entail? As tempting as the notion of fucking her without consequence was, I knew myself. I knew her. It wouldn't work.

Olivia: Fine. Your silence says it all. I'll see you tomorrow night.

It wasn't a full reprieve—she wasn't done trying to seduce me—but at least, for tonight, I'd be able to rest.

I swore I wouldn't touch myself when I got home, thinking of what might have happened had I not stopped us.

***

I woke early to a string of texts from Axel, all regarding the engagement party to be held that night.

He sent me several vendors to speak with about last-minute details, a few places to pick up decorations for the crew he'd hired, and money for an outfit he saw for me.

For me?

Axel Levine: I know you'll protest, but I'd like you to look nice tonight. Not that you don't usually—but I came across this dress and it immediately made me think of you. Please, at least consider it, would you?

I accepted the money and agreed to stop by the clothing shop to peep at the dress. But I had no intention of trying it on, let alone leaving with it.

Until I saw it for myself.

"This?" I gestured at the outfit set aside by the shop clerk. She informed me it was already paid for, and I only needed to try it on in case alterations were required.

"And if it needs to be altered," the young woman stood behind the cash register and eyed the gown from top to bottom, "I can do that now. Though I will say, Mr. Levine insisted he has an eye for sizes, and this should fit you with no need for modifications."

It was a deep, auburn-tinted red, embellished with black lace, stopping at the knees, slightly flared out. The bodice was tight, low-cut, but tasteful; off-the-shoulder, with long sleeves. The fabric was a delicate satin, and I gawked at the price tag when I saw it.

"Jeez," I said, as I entered the changing room, doubting this exquisite piece of fashion would work for me. It was so luxurious, so beautiful; too beautiful for someone who wasn't part of the bridal party.

And naturally, it fit perfectly. It felt tailored to me, to my body shape.

I gaped at myself in the mirror, watching how the material molded to my curves, how it accentuated my ass and breasts in the most amazing ways.

And then I imagined Axel imagining me wearing this, and I had to remove it at once before I got it all drenched from my bubbling arousal.

I texted Axel that I loved it, and that he didn't have to do that.

But I had no time to reconfigure my shoes and accessories and makeup to go with this new outfit. I didn't have long to get ready—all the errands and meetings ate up most of my time today, and it was already five o'clock. The party was to start at eight, and I needed to get home, freshen up, and hop in another Uber to get across town.

Vivienne: I love it, but I won't be able to wear it.

Axel responded so fast, I wondered if he'd been sitting with his phone in his hands, anticipating my excuses.

Axel: Why not?

I huffed; he wouldn't understand the intricacies of coordinating outfits to makeup and shoes and jewelry, but I didn't see the need to lie.

Vivienne: I'd have to re-work the entire look, and I'm pressed for time. Headed to my place now.

Axel: Nonsense. You don't need to go home.

I balked at his words.

Vivienne: Uh, yes, I do. I need to shower. I'm only the planner, but you didn't buy me this dress so I could stink in it, did you?

I stood at the corner of the street, near the dress shop, waiting for my ride.

Axel: Go to my penthouse. Folks are already there getting set up, and my assistant can let you in. Use my guest room to clean up, get ready.

I still needed to swing home first, to grab makeup and products I'd need post-shower, plus an appropriate pair of underwear for this dress.

I pulled up my Uber app; the car was almost there.

Vivienne: Fine. Stopping by my place quickly and then I'll be on my way.

Axel implied he wasn't at his penthouse yet, which reassured me; I'd rather not be in a shower with him in the vicinity. Who knew what he'd do, how he'd maneuver things to catch me naked and use it as an excuse to fuck me again.

The Uber driver was understanding of me needing him for more than one stop. And more so when I told him I worked for Axel Levine, a man this dude supposedly revered.

He waited for me as I tossed products into a makeup bag and fetched what I'd need. He then zoomed me across the city, and I made it to Axel's at six-thirty, which gave me sufficient time to prepare.

The building's security guard recognized me, and the elevator guy brought me up to the fifth floor. The doors opened to a hustle of people in the lobby; some in uniforms, some in party outfits, all hurried and stressed. The lobby was lit-up, lined with tables of champagne flutes and flowers.

Axel's assistant led me through the living room—gold and silver streamers galore, sparkling confetti on the ground, plenty of places to sit, tables of finger-foods and chafing dishes awaiting main meals—and onto the guest bedroom, which was down the hall to the left.

"Everything you need should be inside," he said, offering a polite smile as he closed the door and hastened back to the event preparation.

I figured I should get a move on; as the wedding planner, I'd have to be out there helping.

The bedroom was spacious, with a large window over-viewing a dark courtyard. Everything was immaculate, from the brass sconces to the sturdy bed frame to the refined artwork on the coral walls.

The bathroom was a marvel, especially considering this was only a guest bathroom. There were polished white marble counters with gold accents, an oversized tub, a roomy shower, and plenty of fluffy towels. Soaps and shampoos were set up along the sink, like at a hotel.

"Nice service," I chuckled as I chucked off my clothes and turned on the shower.

The steam settled my sore muscles. The past few days had been a blur of getting in and out of cars, climbing steps, pressing a phone to my ear with my shoulder, typing five million words a minute, jotting notes in my notebook. All weddings were exhausting to plan, but this one was particularly difficult, what with all the time constraints.

But we'd make it work. Estelle and Mollie would get their exclusive, star-studded, last-minute wedding. I'd get paid, and Brent would be semi-satisfied, and then Axel and I could—

"No," I said to myself, massaging the shampoo into my scalp.

I wasn't planning on washing my hair, but the shower was so cozy, so comforting. And I'd spotted a super fancy and upgraded hair dryer that would dry my locks in half the time it normally took. So why not?

"No fantasizing over Axel and what could happen. No."

The hot water soothed into me, and I let my mind run wild, remembering all the craziness of the past few weeks. I'd been showered with so much decadence, it was hard to think straight. So much recognition—vendors and friends of the brides knew me, had heard of my work for Violet.

And so much affection...though it wasn't warranted and shouldn't have happened. Attention from Olivia, whom I'd needed attention from, a long, long time ago. And from Axel, who made me melt with one look, one bat of his perfect eyelashes, one hint of his musky cologne as it entered my nostrils.

I wanted something else to enter me, but that couldn't happen anymore. Axel Levine was off-limits, and the hardest part was he didn't want to be. He wanted to break those rules—those set up by my firm—and wished they didn't exist. He wanted me. This famous, excessively rich man was interested in me.

Axel Levine, who never flaunted his wealth but used it behind the scenes, to ensure the comfort and happiness of others, wanted me.

Fuck. I didn't deserve him.

I turned the shower off after what felt like hours of luxuriating warmth, but sensed a presence in the room as the noise of trickling water died down.

I wasn't alone. Through the fog on the shower's see-through glass walls, I detected a shadow. A human one.

My heart raced.

Had a vendor wandered in to watch me? Was it Axel's assistant? A thief, a staff-member? Or was I hallucinating?

I slowly opened the shower door and seized the towel hanging from it, wrapping myself with it.

"Who's there?" I said, tentatively exiting from behind the shower's glass walls.

I had nothing within reach to use as a weapon.

Who the hell would barge into an occupied bathroom like a creep? I couldn't wait to take note of who it was, and tell Axel—

"It's me, relax."

I didn't relax; I tensed.

It was his voice, surfacing right when I'd thought of him.

Axel?

I tightened the towel around myself as I walked through the steam to find him leaning against the sink counter, arms crossed.

I glared at him, my cheeks growing warm. "What the fuck are you doing? Creep!"

He had the audacity to laugh. "Am I a creep for being in my own house?" He wore a basic brown suit, shoes removed, and his face was flushed from the vapors.

I wanted to nudge him, but one touch would do us both in. Any contact between us would be dangerous.

"Okay, but barging into a bathroom that's currently in use? Really?"

Somewhere in me I was outraged, and yet...I couldn't yell at him. I didn't want to. With all the strings he'd pulled recently, and then the dress, and then letting me shower here to make it easier for me to coordinate...it was impossible to be mad.

But this was a situation where I needed to be mad. I was alone in a steamy bathroom with him, in a towel, and the risks were too high. This was too complicated for me to slip up.

Why was he in here? Why did he need to torment me like this? Standing there looking like a hot businessman straight out of a stressful meeting, hair ruffled, shirt unbuttoned, tie loosened. Looking at me like I was his post-meeting treat, and he couldn't wait to devour me.

"Call me curious, but I wanted to make sure it was you and not some sleazy vendor taking advantage." He shrugged as he pushed himself off from the counter.

I took a step back, pulling the towel higher up. "Right, because you'd hire people who would do such a thing."

He quirked an eyebrow, an amused smile over his lips as his gaze roved over me. "Only one."

"Hey!" I scowled at him, but was somehow unable to prevent my own smile. I scolded myself for letting my lips move; if he caught me smirking, he'd think it was an invitation. "You told me to use the shower. I have the text message as proof!"

"You do," he said, his voice lowering to that sexy, sensual register. It was a lilt I'd heard him use a few times with me. One he used when he was horny.

Shit.

"Axel," I breathed, clutching the towel against myself, using it as a thin, flimsy barrier of protection. As long as it remained on my body, I was safe.

But the closer Axel got to me, the more I felt like it wouldn't last long. The more I wanted that safety net to disappear.

"Vivienne," he said, licking his lips, his eyes glossy with longing. His musk meandered into my nose, and combined with the steam, my head spun. My knees were weak. My arms struggled to pin the towel in place.

I knew that look. I knew this entire demeanor. It was that same hunger as yesterday, when he took me on the couch. The same alluring appeal as when we'd fucked in St. Tropez; the thirst for my body, for my taste, for me.

"Axel," I whispered, sucking my lips in, daring a glance up at him. He was inches away, cornering me near the shower. I had no escape, no means to stop him—and no intention to do so.

Whenever he was this close, I couldn't resist. I didn't want to.

"Vivienne," he returned, one hand reaching out to the hem of my towel. He snuck his finger underneath, gently tugging.

In some weird reflex I'd likely regret later, I lifted my arms, allowing him to pull the towel off. Not because he coerced me, but because I wanted to. It slid down my body, pooling at my feet, exposing me. My glistening, naked skin was on display for him to ogle, to touch, to do with whatever he pleased.

A part of me wanted to run while he was distracted by the sight of my breasts, my erect nipples, my legs that he surely couldn't wait to squeeze. Run, fast; free myself from this intoxicating pull to him, that irresistible need to be touched by him.

That constant craving to be pleasured. Taken away to a heavenly place of pure bliss, with him.

I was torn, stuck in this very forbidden moment, with desire pooling between my legs.

And he knew, damn him, he knew. The way he gazed at me, lust swelling in his eyes, and most definitely bulging in his pants.

It was too late. We'd already gone too far. He'd known that the second he entered the bathroom while I showered. And I'd figured it out the moment I realized he'd snuck in.

Vendors were out in the living room. Guests would arrive in less than an hour. Estelle and Mollie were soon to show up.

But there I was stuck in front of Axel, watching as he hesitated to touch me, to tease me, to take me.

"Fuck," I said under my breath, knowing there was no point running. No point if deep down, underneath my inhibitions, underneath my fears...I craved this more than he did.

☼☼☼