Thirty Nights (American Beauty #1)(75)

“Open it,” he whispers in my ear.

I examine the purple box—it’s almost as tall as me. No bows, no frills, no names. It takes about two minutes to unwrap the sleek orchid paper and soft tissues. Finally, with a deep breath, I push aside the last gossamer layer.

“Oh!” I gasp.

Right before me, with a magic from fairy tales, is the most beautiful dress any woman, anywhere, has ever seen. It’s a long, strapless gown like an inverted rosebud. The layers drape exactly like petals. Their color is astonishing. The very top layer is the lightest turquoise, then each one underneath deepens gradually to azure, cerulean, marine, cobalt, indigo and, last, midnight blue.

My eyes fly up to his, as I understand the meaning behind the extraordinary color. He smiles and lounges on the bed, propping himself on his elbow.

“I told you,” he says. “I always want my eyes on you.”

I start launching myself at him but then remember that I must not startle him. So I freeze midair, probably looking quite ridiculous. He catches me before I plop on the bed, tucking me to his chest.

“Sorry,” I mumble.

“Yes, it really is an unforgivable crime to want to hold the man who bought you a dress but you can’t because you’re afraid of getting crushed to death.” His voice is hard again.

“I’m not afraid.”

He looks away, mumbling something that sounds suspiciously like “you should be”. I can sense all warmth evaporating from the room so I deploy my distraction technique.

“So tell me about this dress. It’s stunning!” I run my fingers through the material. It’s soft and fluid, like dewy petals.

It works. The dimple puckers in his stubbly cheek. “I thought it’s time for you to have some of your own dresses. Not your mother’s or your roommate’s. Yours.” He folds back the corset and shows me the tag inside. On it, is embroidered:

Elisa C. Snow

“Like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies”

I read the next line of Byron’s poem with a fiery band in my throat. It takes a moment to find the words. Even when I do, I simply dissolve in his neck, kissing his fragrant skin.

“Thank you. I think I’m going to sleep with it on.”

“Lucky dress.”

“Are you ever going to tell me Byron’s significance?”

His eyes shift as though he is reading something. “It’s just a beautiful poem, Elisa.” He shrugs but I have the feeling he is not telling me everything. I push it aside for now.

“Did you make Benson learn embroidery?”

He chuckles. “Not yet. This is a local designer, Margolis. He specializes in 1950s vintage, I’m told.”

He caresses my jawline while I try very hard not to jump him again. I know Margolis. I have spent a good amount of time in the last four years drooling at its store windows, Audrey Hepburn style.

“He’s yours whenever you want something,” Aiden says. And there it is, that finite, terminal tone in his voice.

“So does this mean you’re taking me out on a date?” I smile because that tone makes me want to wail.

“As it happens, I am.”

“Where?”

He watches me for a moment as though he is not sure he wants to tell me, or perhaps even take me at all. But then he answers. “A place I think you’ve wanted to see for a while.”

“You’re not paying for a trip to NASA, are you?”

He laughs. “No, but that reminds me—not that I need reminders. I put some money in your bank account, and before you ask, I memorized your number when I saw your checkbook on your desk.”

“What?” I meant to speak in a properly outraged volume but it comes out as scandalized screech.

He is still smiling. “It’s not for you, it’s for your family. As I understand it, they need a water heater and I’m sure you’ve always wished you could help them.”

“How did you know the Solises need a water heater?” Still screeching. Bloody hell, can he see the future too?

“Benson has special talents.”

I watch him, opening and closing my mouth like my biology professor’s guppy fish.

“How much?” I ask eventually.

“Enough to help them, but not enough for us to fight about.”

“Can it be on loan?”

“No. Unless you want ICE to question your finances.”

I take a deep breath, running out of arguments. “All right, thank you. But why are you so concerned about the Solises all of a sudden?”

His eyes shift to a careful setting. “Because I thought that if you have some way to help them financially, you will not feel compelled to also be around them and potentially risk your immigration status.”

“You mean you’re buying me off?” Voice back to screeching.

“Technically, I’m buying them off.”

I scoot away from him, furious. “I don’t choose to be around them out of obligation, Aiden! I want to be around them because I love them. So, no, buying them a water heater wouldn’t replace them anymore than looking at my mum and dad’s pictures brings them back!” The last words cut my lips like glass and I’m breathing hard. I close my eyes trying to calm myself, but even Mendeleev is not helping me now.