Tryst Six Venom by Penelope Douglas

four. My phone rings, and I pull it out of my purse, seeing Callum’s name on
the screen.
“Where are you?” he asks without a hello.
“Picking up my debutante monstrosity.”
“Aw, you’ll be beautiful.”
I laugh under my breath. “Maybe underneath.”
“Is that a taunt?”
“A dare,” I retort, stopping at the door to Lavinia’s. “A box of Cuban
cigars that you can’t get it off of me on ball night.”
He falls silent, and I wait, my hand on the door. Was that too bold?
Then, he finally asks, “Real Cubans?”
I smile. Despite my feelings for Callum being complicated, he knows
how to play. “They’re only illegal to poor people,” I tell him.
I open the door, stepping inside.
“And if you win, what do you want?” he asks.
“A box of Cuban cigars.”
A snort escapes him.
I walk into the shop, the crystal chandeliers glowing overhead, and I
immediately cast a glance around, not seeing her. I’m not sure if I’m relieved
or disappointed.
“Can’t wait to see you in the dress,” he says.
“Well, you’re gonna have to, unfortunately.” I sigh, seeing no one at the
counter. “See you at school tomorrow.”
“Bye.”
I hang up, slipping my phone into my bag, and I’m about to call out for
Lavinia, but she appears from the back room, her lipstick looking eggplant
against her purple dress.
“Morning,” I chirp.
“Clay!” She holds up her hand as if to stop me. “I want you to try on your
dress before you take it, okay? Just to make sure.”
Do I have to? I was hoping to only have the wear that damn thing one
more time. On ball night.
“It’s in the dressing room,” she says. “Do you have time?”
“I…” But I can’t think fast enough. “Sure.”
I follow her to the dressing room, dropping my purse and closing the
curtain after she leaves.
I don’t have my underthings—the right bra or anything—so this shit