Devil's Due [h.s.]

Chapter 30

She held up a black dress. One that I'd bought a few years ago for some gala that I attended with Olivia. The two of us had gotten piss drunk and I didn't even remember making it to the actual event, but rather that it had taken two washes to get the puke that I'd thrown up out of the material.

"I bought that years ago," My eyes raked over the small thing that she held out to examine. "I've definitely outgrown it by at least a few sizes by now."

Morgan's face lit up. "Perfect." She grinned, tossing the dress into my lap. "Try it on."

"My tits are gonna pop right out of this thing–"

"Yeah, and to me that sounds like a fucking bonus." She grabbed my arm and hauled me up. "Try it on, River."

"Fine," I rolled my eyes and stepped into the closet, shutting the door tightly behind me in case the dress happened to rip from the ass up and I had to live with the embarrassment of Morgan witnessing it.

Except the thing was, the dress didn't rip. In fact, it did take a little more shimmying to get on, but it almost looked better than it had years ago. I filled it out more, that much was for sure. And yes, my boobs were just about popping out the top. But I looked fucking hot.

The girl in the reflection that stared back at me was someone who came to play.

"Jesus Christ," Morgan had materialized behind me again, having let herself into the closet. Apparently, her and Harry were quite privy to doing this. She cracked an amused smile, pointing to my chest. "Where the fuck did those things come from? You look fucking incredible."

"You don't think it's too much?" I reached up to adjust the strap around my neck, smoothing my hands down my waist and over my hips.

"You look someone that would make even the devil fall to his knees," she murmured, eyes roaming the length of me.

I swallowed hard, turning back toward the mirror. "Funnily enough," I muttered under my breath, examining my reflection once more, "that's kind of the intention."

--

An hour later, the two of us were bidding Meatloaf goodbye and hastily making our way out of the apartment. We were running late, something that could have easily been avoided had Morgan and I not accidentally spent so long on our makeup. We'd fucked around, given each other insane eye looks all paired with red lipstick and blush so deep that we looked drunk.

But we looked fucking hot. And that was what mattered.

It was already dark out when we finally reached the parking lot, something that didn't help my mounting nerves. We approached Morgan's Audi, which she'd parked beside my car. Poor Moira paled in comparison to the vehicle next to her.

"Is Zayn coming with us?" I asked, feeling the already growing ache in the bottom of my feet courtesy of the strappy heels I'd chosen to wear. The material of my dress brushed against my ankles with every step, something that helped to distract me from the knife I'd strapped to my inner thigh as well.

I could've said a real 'fuck you' to Harry and chosen not to wear it, but something about tonight made me feel like I needed it. Especially considering the trouble I'd run into at Damien's dinner.

Morgan shook her head as the two of us piled into her car. She pulled down the sun visor, making sure her lipstick was intact, before folding it shut. "He's meeting us there." She threw a wink in my direction. "I told him I had to show up with my date, after all."

"Sorry," I grimaced, "That you couldn't go with him."

"Are you kidding?" Morgan looked amused as she started the car. "You're a hell of a lot more fun than him. All he does while I get ready is sleep and tell me I'm beautiful."