Just Like Her

Chapter 48

Emma

The sensation of Tom's breath against my bare neck sent shivers down my body.

Trisha, now my official stylist, had pulled my hair back into an elegant looking French twist. She had allowed a few curls to escape her bobby pins to frame my face and gave my make up a simple, natural-looking finish. Yet again, I had requested a dress that was conservative yet trendy, understated yet classy, and—of course—inexpensive. And yet again, she had expertly executed all but the one request.

It was a warm pastel blue color with soft pleats that flowed seamlessly to just below my knees. The top was made of two panels of fabric that appeared to hang effortlessly off-the-shoulder and wrapped tightly across my chest emphasizing my cleavage.

While I normally would have felt uncomfortable with the low cut, I was grateful the taught bosom hid the bulge of my necklace's pendant. I had been unconsciously playing with the chain since first putting it on, but dropped it at the sound of Tom's desirous voice in my ear.

"You know you want to wear it..." he teased in a low whisper.

I fixed a demure smile on my lips, though I refused to turn and face him. "I am wearing it."

"Wear it proper..." he practically sang.

I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, hoping to steady my breathing.

While I hadn't listed it explicitly as an amendment in our contract, I had insisted to Tom that I should attend all social and charity events I would be expected to attend if we were indeed married for authenticity's sake. I had made my edict over breakfast the day before, and Tom had retorted that if our "trial marriage" were really to be authentic then I'd need a ring.

I'd merely rolled my eyes, steadfastly ignoring him till Tom had gone off to work. Neither of us brought it up again when he came home later that evening, but while getting ready for bed I found a small ring box sitting on my pillow...

I narrowed my eyes then, my smile replaced by a sarcastic smirk as I finally gave in and turned on my stiletto heel to face him.

"If only the box had come with instructions."

Tom's mouth quirked into a smile, but before he could fashion a retort five perfectly manicured fingers wrapped around his bicep.

"I need to talk to you," Cynthia grinned sweetly as her eyes flicked up to her brother's and then around the room, presumably scanning for unwanted onlookers. "It's urgent."

I nodded in understanding. "If you'll excuse me..."

Tom took a deep breath as he, too, affixed a tight smile to his expression and laced his fingers through mine, effectively rooting me to his side.

I looked between him and Cynthia. Her smile twitched, but she didn't fight him on it. Instead, she directed her next statement to the both of us.

"Members of one of our local organizations were arrested for human trafficking a little more than an hour ago."

Tom didn't attempt to hide his scowl. "What the hell happened?"

Cynthia merely shrugged. "There was a refugee boat that capsized in the Mediterranean. They picked up as many passengers as they could and brought them to shore."

"And that amounts to human trafficking?" I asked, dumbfounded.

"It's transporting people across international borders," Cynthia responded in a hushed tone.

I shook my head and lowered my volume to match hers. "But isn't it maritime law that you have to assist a ship in distress?"

"That's the legal loophole we've been using," Tom sighed as he raked his free hand through his hair. "But it's getting more and more difficult to make the case as the incidents have gotten more press."