Bad Things (Tristan & Danika, #1)(8)

“Thank you,” I told her.

She smiled and winked at me, clearly pleased with my agreement.

I showered and did my hair and makeup first, letting the steam from the shower smooth out any small wrinkles in the dress. The top was pure silk, held at the neck with Swarovski crystals. The fitted skirt was a silky looking material, but it had elastic, so it had stretch, and I could still dance in it, which was a must. I didn’t love to go clubbing, but I did love to dance.

I eyed the way out of my price range dress as I blew out my hair, letting it fall straight—a black waterfall down my back. Black was always a good bet for me. It brought out my ivory skin and pale gray eyes. My mother was half-Russian, half-Japanese, and I supposed my features were a mix of both. That was only a guessing game, though, really, since I’d never known what the other side of that equation consisted of.

I lined my eyes carefully in black, and smudged a smoky dark gray shadow onto my eyelids. I was liberal with the mascara, and used a dark maroon lip stain, but that was all. My skin tone didn’t need, and couldn’t handle foundation.

I was still wearing just a towel when Bev breezed into the bathroom with me. She and I hadn’t had privacy boundaries for years, and I only smiled at her as she barged in on me after a cursory knock.

I started shaking my head as soon as I saw the jewelry box in her hand. She didn’t own any cheap, costume jewelry, and I would be terrified if I borrowed something expensive and then lost it. The sad fact was I could never afford to replace even her cheapest piece of bling.

She completely disregarded the headshake, opening the box to show me a pair of earrings. They were huge, pear shaped, diamond studs, two carats at least. “They latch on tight, Danika. There’s no way you’d lose one, and that dress begs for diamonds.”

“I can’t, Bev. I just can’t. And I think I might already be overdressed. Tristan is probably just going to wear a T-shirt and jeans, anyway.”

“You’re wrong there. I saw him. He’s already ready, and he’s looking sharp.”

I smirked. I loved it when she went all old school on me. “Sharp? Like a pencil?”

“Sharp, like dressed up, you smart ass.”

“What’s he wearing?”

“Black slacks and a blazer over a black T-shirt.”

“Sounds a little Vegas douchy. The T-shirt with a suit, I mean. And isn’t it a little hot for that?”

She shrugged. “Wait until you see him. Call it whatever you want, but he looks edible.”

I laughed. “I can’t believe you’re encouraging me to go out with him. Lucy will have a field day, harassing you about it. Hell, she’ll harass us both.”

Bev pursed her lips, and I grinned, knowing that she was going to go into Lucy mode. She did a spot-on impression of our psychiatrist friend, Lucy.

“Jumping from one relationship and straight into another is a symptom of your love addiction, Danika,” she said, her voice pitched low.

I sighed. “He really is just a friend, no funny business at all, but I doubt she’d believe that if she got a look at him.”

Bev nodded. “I believe you, but I have a feeling she’ll have something to say about it.”

I started getting dressed, completely unfazed by Bev’s presence.

I heard a big sigh behind me as I was slipping the dress over my head.

“I’d give anything to have tits like that again. I had to tape mine up to wear that dress, I shit you not.”

I laughed. “I remember. I helped with the tape. You looked fabulous, though, which is all that counts.”

She grimaced. “I remember my braless days, though. Now that’s fun. You’re smarter than I was. You rarely go without a bra. I never even owned one until my late thirties.”

I shrugged. I was only a small C-cup, but I didn’t feel comfortable without a bra. The only time I went without was when a dress demanded it, and that rarely ever happened, since I hardly ever dressed up.

I adjusted the dress around my hips, then straightened the neckline. It was one of those dresses that felt good, and looked better.

“Your red shoes,” Bev said.

I nodded, knowing which shoes she was referring to. She’d given them to me after wearing them herself to four different events. They were open toed stilettos with a four-inch heel. I loved them, and though they weren’t comfortable, they were hot, and I could dance in them fine, which was all that mattered.

Bev tried to talk me into the earrings, but I held strong. This wasn’t the prom, and I was already decked out.

I felt like hot stuff as I strode out into the living room, but I stopped dead when I got a load of Tristan. If I was hot, he was scorching. The worst part was, I would have bet money it had only taken him minutes to get that way.

His slacks and blazer were nice. I didn’t know a thing about suits, but his looked expensive to me, and it fit him perfectly, hugging his build so that no one could doubt that he was buff. It looked like a custom suit, especially considering his size, though I couldn’t have said for sure, and I found it unlikely, since he was a ‘club promoter’. I was pretty sure that was one of those jobs that never had an actual pay check.

Black was his color, to be sure. It brought out his tan skin, handsome features, and his golden eyes. He hadn’t shaved, but somehow the black stubble on his jaw and his short black hair went just right with the suit. He looked sinister, and drop-dead gorgeous.