Almost Pretend Read Online Nicole Snow

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary Tags Authors: Nicole Snow Advertisement

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“Shh!” rises from behind us again, more irritable than ever.

We both slouch down guiltily in our seats.

She stifles a giggle behind her hand, waiting before whispering, “You’d better get me a nice dress.”

I can only hold my smile as I sigh and settle in to find out what kind of atrocity the rest of this film will be.

“I will,” I promise, dragging her hand to my lips. “I won’t have my woman looking anything less than fucking magnificent.”

For all that Elle insisted I buy her a nice dress, she’s been cagey about letting me actually see it.

I hadn’t even meant to go to the political fundraiser tonight.

I’ve already made my donations, and I’m not a fan of rubbing elbows with politicians or their orbiters, especially when anyone who shows their face is assumed to be currying favor for their own interests.

I have no need for that shit.

I make my own way, and I’ve staked my career on my good reputation alone.

Still, when I remembered the event had ballroom dancing, and I thought she might enjoy it, how could I resist?

We’ll treat it as another publicly staged event. The wealthy donor introducing his fiancée to high-society movers and shakers.

Really, I just want to see her light up again.

I haven’t seen her at all since Rick dropped her off yesterday with my credit card tucked in her purse.

I had to assume she went back to that same couture boutique where the staff know her, which is becoming her favorite store.

So I’m a little surprised when my bank alerts ping me with a four-figure purchase at a shop called Luly Yang.

Isn’t that a bridal store?

I frown, racking my memory.

My thoughts start spinning, and I shut them down sharply.

Elle’s just being Elle.

She’ll probably show up in a wedding gown she’s torn to shreds and covered in punk swatches of color in a tribute to mideighties Cyndi Lauper.

When Rick brings me to her grandmother’s cottage, though, I think she can’t find a new way to take my breath away.

Every fucking time, I’m hilariously wrong.

The door to the house opens before Rick turns off the engine on the G80.

I catch a glimmer of light like there’s a small sun shining in the entryway of the Lark cottage. One glimpse builds so much breathless anticipation.

I’m barely aware of moving forward until my chest bumps the gate.

Until I behold the sunrise, captured in the shape of a woman.

Her dress is empress waisted, gathered at her ribs in a thin gold band. Her pale skin shines softly above a straight bodice, sheer layers of cream-colored fabric crusted in swirls of glittering gold.

It flares out into gold-embroidery sleeves so small they’re almost straps, making celestial patterns down the front of the dress.

From the gathered waist, the dress sheets outward, a subtle flare falling to the floor and trailing around her. Despite its flare, the thin layers of fabric cling to her, offering hints of her thighs, her hips.

The hem of the dress is dyed in a soft rose gold ombré, fading up into the ivory of the fabric. The color draws out the whiteness in her skin, accenting her red lips.

Fuck me senseless.

Her hair is pulled up in a loose bun, her neck circled with a delicate golden chain dotted with tiny moons. There’s a matching bracelet swinging from her right wrist.

Her makeup is fresh faced, dewy, and instead of her usual boldness, she’s painted her lids in a pink-and-gold gradient.

This woman is the entire dawn.

I can’t fucking breathe as I look at her.

I don’t know—I just know if she kisses me tonight, I might be trapped in her spell forever.

Ever since Charisma’s death, I’ve sworn I’ll never love again—if you could even call what we had love. I swore I’d definitely never trust again. Never let anyone else past the walls and barbed wire that keep me safe from more agony.

Now I, August Marshall, am a damn liar.

I can’t deny how much my heart drums for Elle Lark.

Thankfully, she breaks the silence with a shy sound, ducking her head. She lingers in the doorway, fingering her skirt.

“It’s dragging on the floor,” she murmurs, giving it a small swirl that shows off her glittering heels in pale rose gold straps. “I’m afraid of getting it dirty.”

I pull the gate open immediately.

“Let me.” Wild horses couldn’t stop me from going to her.

Rick leans out the driver’s side window of the vehicle. “Sir, I can—”

“I’ve got it,” I snap. I don’t even look back at him.

I’m not letting another man touch her.

Only me.

I’m staring like an adolescent kid as I hasten up the walk to the front step.

I’m an awestruck fool, but tonight I’ll suck it up and be foolish if I must.

And I feel wonderfully stupid as I adjust my tuxedo to sink down on one knee, gathering her skirt carefully. I layer the trailing end over my arm like a bridal train.

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