I glanced at the clock on the wall of my boutique. The ornate hands showed a quarter past six. Skye was supposed to arrive at six to pick up her anniversary gown. I had worked meticulously on the dress, ensuring every detail was perfect. It was an elegant number, one of a kind, designed to make even the most discerning eye marvel.

I sighed, picking up my phone to send Skye a message. "Hi Skye, your dress is ready to be picked up whenever you're free. I'll be here."

Almost instantly, Skye replied, "Thanks, Thea. I'll come by in a while. Busy right now."

I put my phone down and tried to focus on some other tasks, but as the minutes turned into hours, my patience began to wane. I had sent Pattie and Leah back early, now I began to regret the decision. By 9 PM, the streets outside had quieted down, and the soft glow of the streetlights filtered into the boutique, casting long shadows.

I tried to keep myself occupied, tidying up the workspace, adjusting the displays, and organizing fabric swatches. But my mind kept drifting back to the dress, and the clock ticked ever closer to 11 PM.

"How much longer am I supposed to wait?" I muttered to myself, feeling a mix of frustration and fatigue.

Finally, at 11 PM, I decided enough was enough. I locked the front door but left the lights on, just in case Skye decided to show up. I needed to find some way to keep myself entertained, so I wandered over to the row of dresses I had designed and decided to try some of them on.

I slipped into a stunning emerald green gown with a low-cut back. The fabric hugged my curves perfectly, and I couldn't help but smile at my reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors. "Not bad, Thea. Not bad at all," I said, striking a pose.

The dim lighting of the boutique added an air of mystery, and I felt a sense of liberation as I twirled and danced around, admiring the way the dress flowed around me. I moved on to a deep red number, its silky fabric cool against my skin. "You should be on the runway," I told my reflection with a playful wink.

I was so lost in my little fashion show that I didn't notice the figure standing in the shadows, watching me with amusement.

"You know, that butterfly tattoo on your lower back is quite the surprise," a deep voice commented, startling me out of my reverie.

I whirled around, heart pounding, and saw Conrad, the so-called mafia prince, standing in the shadows. He looked tired, dressed in a white shirt and dress pants, but still impossibly handsome. He pushed his tousled hair back with one hand as he leaned against the wall.

God help me.

"You really need to buy some new clothes. I'm beginning to think you are colorblind." I stated, once I overcame the shock and embarrassment. "What are you doing here?"

He stepped out of the shadows, a smirk playing on his lips. "Picking up my mother's dress. She got held up and asked me to come instead."

I crossed my arms, trying to regain some composure. "You could have announced your presence instead of lurking in the dark."

"And miss the show?" he teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "No way."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help the smile tugging at my lips. "Whatever. The dress is over there," I said, pointing to the elegantly wrapped gown hanging near the counter.

Conrad didn't move. Instead, he let his gaze linger on me, making me very aware of the backless dress I was wearing. "You know, you have a knack for making even the most beautiful things look even better."

I felt my cheeks flush at the compliment. He took me by surprise. I'd never thought of him to say that, at least in the countless scenarios I'd imagined my head following our last interaction.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Conrad."

He took a step closer, closing the distance between us. "Is that so?"

I swallowed hard, trying to maintain my composure. "Absolutely. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to change back."

Before I could move, he reached out and gently traced the butterfly tattoo on my lower back with his finger, sending shivers down my spine. "I never took you for the tattoo type," he murmured, his voice low and husky.

What is he doing? I was losing my mind at this point.

I shivered involuntarily, both from his touch and his words. "There are a lot of things you don't know about me, Conrad," I replied, my voice betraying the effect he was having on me.

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against my ear. "I think I'd like to find out."

I turned to face him, finding myself only inches away from his piercing gaze. From the angle, I could now make out the little stubble growing on his sharp jaw. "You think so, huh?"

Our playful banter hung in the air, charged with an undeniable tension. I could feel the heat between us, the magnetic pull that seemed to draw us closer. I knew I should step back, put some distance between us, but I couldn't move.

Conrad's hand moved to my waist, his fingers brushing against the bare skin of my back. "Yeah, I do."

I glanced down at his shirt, noting the smudge of red lipstick I had accidentally left on his collar earlier. "Looks like I've marked my territory," I said, trying to defuse the tension with a joke.

He looked down at the lipstick mark and then back at me, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Guess I'll just have to keep it as a reminder. You seem to be doing that a lot these days, and I don't mind one bit."

Before I could respond, he pulled me closer, our bodies almost touching. My breath hitched as I felt his warmth against me, the scent of his cologne intoxicating. His hands held my waist in place, I could feel his warmth through the fabric.

Did he have a fever?

"You're playing a dangerous game, Conrad," I whispered, my heart racing.

He leaned in, his lips hovering near my ear. "I like living on the edge."

I could feel the heat rising between us, the electricity crackling in the air. It was intoxicating, thrilling, and terrifying all at once. We stood there, locked in this charged moment, neither of us willing to break the spell. My eyes kept bouncing to his exposed chest, the top of a tattoo peaking out. I resisted the urge to caress it, fisting my hands beside me.

"Are you always this forward?" I asked, trying to maintain some pretense of control.

He chuckled, his breath warm against my skin. "Only when I'm interested."

"And what makes you think I'm interested?" I shot back, arching an eyebrow.

His grin widened. "For one, you're not exactly pushing me away."

I hated that he was right. I hated even more that I didn't want to push him away. "Maybe I'm just being polite."

"Polite?" He echoed, his fingers tracing slow circles on my lower back. "That's not the vibe I'm getting."

I bit my lip, the playful banter only intensifying the tension between us. "What do you want, Conrad?"

"Right now?" His voice dropped an octave, sending shivers down my spine. "I want to know why someone as intriguing as you is hiding out in a boutique at midnight."

"I'm not hiding," I replied, my voice steadier than I felt. "I'm working. Or I was, until you decided to crash my little fashion show."

He smirked, his gaze flicking to the dress. "And quite the show it was. But there's more to you than meets the eye, Thea. And I intend to find out what."

If he said one more word, I might've silenced him with a kiss. Stupid brain and stupid heart.

I stepped back, needing to put some distance between us. It wasn't what I wanted, but it needed to be done. "Well, Mr. Investigator, maybe you should start with why your mother sent you instead of coming herself."

His expression softened slightly, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. "She's been busy with some... family matters. Asked me to help out."

I nodded, understanding more than I cared to admit. "I see. Well, you've got the dress. You should probably go."

He didn't move. Instead, he reached out and caught my hand. "Who's the guy for tomorrow?" He sounded jealous.

I blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

"The party. My parents' anniversary. You should have a date. Someone to make sure you have a good time."

"And you think you qualify?" I asked, my heart skipping a beat.

"I think I more than qualify," he replied, his voice smooth as silk. "What do you say, Thea? Will you be my date?"

I hesitated, the logical part of my brain screaming at me to say no. But the part of me that had felt alive and exhilarated in his presence couldn't resist. "Alright. I'll be your date."

He smiled, a genuine, warm smile that made my heart flutter. "Good. I'll pick you up at seven. Wear something stunning. Though, with you, that won't be a problem."

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help the smile that crept onto my lips. "And you make sure you're not looking like a frog. I'd hate to be caught with an ugly toad."

"Well, you could always kiss me and turn me into a prince." He said, pulling me by the waist again.

"Goodnight, Conrad," I said, putting my hand on his muscled chest and gently patting him.

"Goodnight Thea," he chuckled, giving my hand a gentle squeeze before letting go and walking out of the boutique.

As he disappeared into the night, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. The encounter left me feeling exhilarated and confused, my mind racing with what had just transpired. I knew one thing for sure: things were about to get a lot more complicated.

After Conrad left, I stood in the middle of the boutique, trying to process what had just happened. My heart was still pounding, and my skin still tingled where his fingers had touched. I walked over to the mirrors, staring at my reflection. The deep red dress clung to my body, the fabric still warm from my own heat.

"What are you doing, Thea?" I whispered to myself, shaking my head. "You can't get involved with someone like him."

I knew that getting involved with Conrad Maxwell was playing with fire. His family was deeply entrenched in the world of organized crime, and while I had managed to stay on the periphery, I knew enough to understand the dangers. But there was something about him that drew me in, something I couldn't quite explain.

"Fuck this shit." I said to myself before retiring for the night.

END OF CHAPTER SIX: TEMPTING TENSIONS
1883 words

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