by Claire Adams
“That’s so amazing. Was it your idea?”
“I had to do it. We’ve got billions lying around just collecting interest, and they do so much good. Plus, the board hates it, and they’re starting to piss me off.”
She laughed. “It’s not too bad, is it?”
“No, half of them are so old that they can barely stay awake during our meetings. It’s just a few problem members.”
“Is it formal?” she asked.
“It is. They’re enforcing a dress code. It’s all red and white. Old people like to color coordinate.”
“I don’t know if I have anything like that.”
“That is definitely not a problem.” I smiled.
“No, you don’t have to get me anything,” she said. “Please.”
“No, I am. You don’t have a choice. In fact, we’re buying labels.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“Nope, you’re my arm candy, and I want you to look sweet.”
She stamped her foot and pursed her lips. My stomach jumped. I grabbed her by the waist and tugged her forward. “You’re worth it,” I said.
I grazed her lips and immediately regretted it. Because once I did, instinct took hold and I slid my tongue through her lips. Her arm wrapped around my neck. I pulled back, maybe a little too fast, because she averted her eyes.
“So, I just have one question for you,” I said.
“What is it?” she asked, smiling.
I tapped a finger to my lips. “Should I go with Mercedes today? Or—”
The smile evaporated from Maria’s face, and the words died on my lips. Her eyes went wide, and her face paled.
I tilted my head to look at her, feeling confused. “So, that’s a no on the Mercedes, I guess. Would you prefer the Camaro? Maybe the Bentley? Or are you more of a Porsche kind of girl?”
She shook her head, looking visibly relieved. “Right,” she said. “Cars. Let’s go with the Camaro.”
“Coming right up,” I said and texted my staff to bring out the car.
We hopped in and headed to the upscale shopping center on the north side of town.
“You don’t have to spend all this money on me,” she said when we pulled into the parking lot.
“What if I want to?” I asked. I couldn’t believe I said that. She looked like she was about to protest some more, but I didn’t want to hear it. I opened my door and ran around to help her out.
She let me lead her into a boutique, where she sat down with her arms folded in front of the dressing rooms.
“You don’t want to choose?” I sifted through the rack behind her.
She turned back to see what I was looking at, then turned around. “No, I’ll wear whatever you buy me.”
“Are you sure?” I pulled out a yellow fishnet dress with a bikini bottom and walked around so I could hold it up to her. She bit down on her lip, not because she was frustrated, but because I knew she was trying not to laugh.
“Only 199.”
“Only?” She stood up and looked at the tag. “Two hundred bucks for this thing?” The clerk gave us a dirty look, and we both shrank back. “I think it would look nice with that red shirt you’re wearing.”
“God, could you imagine? They’d piss themselves.”
“They’ll be wearing red, so you won’t notice.” I pulled out a ruffled red dress.
“No, too short. I’ll have to keep pulling it down.”
“What about this?” I pulled out a strapless red evening gown. “Simple, elegant.”
“Something with flair. If I’m going to do this, I want to stand out, like you.”
“You think I stand out?” I asked.
“Well, yeah. Everyone looks at you when you walk into a room. I’m sure you’ve noticed.”
“I didn’t think it was that obvious. Mostly, I see people looking at you.”
“Come on. I’m hardly a supermodel.”
“You’re beautiful.” I couldn’t help myself.
She froze, then played it off and pulled out a white gown with a sequined bodice. “No, too basic.”
I pushed a strand of her hair aside and gave her a long look. “You could put a red rose in your hair. It’d be like one of those black and white photos that they paint.”
“That’s a nice idea, but white’s not my color.”
We sifted through the rack, then moved onto the next. She didn’t like any of the outfits in that boutique, or the next, but I wasn’t about to let her walk away without getting something amazing. I took out my phone while she looked through a rack and walked out into the hall.
“Hello?” a cheery woman answered.
“Hi, could you tell Dori that Jake Ryan is on the phone.”
“Uh—I believe she’s in a meeting.”
“She’s right behind you,” I said, in no uncertain terms. “Tell her my name.”
There was a sigh. Then the receptionist covered the phone to muffle her voice. “Jake Ryan,” she said with a snotty tone.
“What did you do?” I heard Dori’s voice booming out. “Give me that.” The phone shuffled around. “Jake, I am so sorry. Candy’s still learning the ropes. We just pulled her off coffee duty.”
“That’s fine. Her heart’s in the right place.”
“What can I do for you?”
I turned around to see Maria standing at the store entrance with her hands on her hips. I held my hand over the phone so she couldn’t hear what I was saying. “I need a dress tonight.”
“Tonight?” Dori wasn’t a fast worker.
“Tonight, and I’ll pay you double.”
“You don’t have to pay extra. You know I’ll do it.”
“Thank you so much. I’ll head down there right now.”
“Who was that?” Maria was standing behind me when I hung up.
“It’s a surprise,” I said.
“No, you’re already showering me with lavish gifts. I draw the line at surprises.”
“Have you ever heard of Dori Mason?” I asked.
Her mouth fell open, and her eyes went wide. Then she pursed her lips into a straight line. “Are you going to take me jet shopping first?”
“If you want.” I lifted my eyebrows. “But you can’t get a two-story. I’m on a budget.”
“You are not buying me a custom-designed gown by the most famous designer this side of the Mississippi.”
“You don’t have a choice.” I turned around and swung my hips as I started walking back to the car.
“You can’t do this.” She ran after me.
“But you don’t like any of the clothes here.”
“Numbers matter.”
“No, they don’t. I’m not reaching deep, trust me, and it’s no trouble. Her and I have been friends for years. She’s going to love you.”
“I can’t believe this.” She followed me out to the car, and we drove off. Maria steamed over it the entire way, until we pulled up to the gallery downtown.
“Now, there is one thing you have to remember about Dori,” I said.
“Please tell me she doesn’t have some weird celebrity quirk.”
“Worse,” I said.
She gave me an icy glare. “What?”
“You can’t ask her anything. You can’t look at the gown until it’s finished, and if you do, you’d better run.”
“Seriously? Is that it?”
“No, we’re hazing the new receptionist, Candy.’”
She bit her lip again to stifle her laughter, but I stared her down, and she couldn’t help it.
“Let’s get this over with,” she said, trying so hard to sound icy, but it wasn’t working.
“I got you,” I said when we walked up to the door.
“You did not,” she said, still grinning.
I pressed the doorbell, and it buzzed. “Yes, I did.” I opened the door for her, and we walked into the bare, white lobby where a young woman with a bubble of brown hair and cat eye glasses stared at us.
“Are you Candace?” I ask
ed.
“Candy,” she said and got up to show us into the back office.
“Is that short for Candace?” I asked.
“No, it’s Candy.” She cracked the door open. “It’s him.”
“Don’t just stand there.” Dori’s short black bob streamed behind her when she rushed out from the door behind the desk and threw herself into my arms. “I’m glad you called. I’ve been getting so bored with these catty housewives. They all want go to the gala in couture.” As always, her style was simple, but elegant: a baggy white blouse and black slacks that flared out at the bottom and hid her curves. She took a step back to look over Maria. “And you must be the lucky woman.”
Maria blushed and nodded her head.
“Oh, don’t be shy, sweetie. I know you’ve heard of me, but I am still flesh and blood. Now.” She moved closer, moving her eyes like a tape measure. “Red and white, I assume?”
“Of course,” I said.
“Good, I’ve been saving the good stuff for somebody worth it. You have the perfect figure.”
“Thanks.” She was starstruck.
We started to walk in back to the designing room and were interrupted by the sound of Candy’s chair squeaking when she sat down. “Candy, go get me some coffee,” Dori said. “I’m gonna be up all night working on this thing. What do you guys want?”
“Iced black,” Maria said.
I leaned in to whisper. “Come on.”
She perked up. “No, never mind. I want an almond milk, caramel latte with two shots of espresso, cold but no ice.”
“Nice,” I whispered. “And Candace, I’ll get a double shot mocha frappuccino with caramel drizzle, and extra whipped cream, but don’t let it spill out the top.”
She shook her head at me. “Anything else?”
“You know what to get me,” Dori said and showed us into the office. When she shut the door and turned back, she gave me a look.
“What?” I asked.
“Do you have to do that to all of my girls?”
“If they want to work for a woman of your caliber, they have to learn to serve. Besides, she was way too snotty. You have to break her in better than that. Teach her some humility. She’s lucky to be where she is.”
“And she’ll quit if you keep at it,” Dori said.
The office was cramped, with rolls of fabric thrown around over the tiny desk and leaning against the walls. In the corner, there was just enough room for Maria to squeeze in so Dori could take her measurements.
“You’re perfect.” Dori bent down to measure Maria’s height. “Your cheekbones, your curves. Have you ever thought of modeling?”
“She doesn’t consider herself a supermodel,” I answered for her. She went bright red.
“You and I both know she’s wrong. You’ve got a natural shine. I need you here, sweetie. Let me mold you into a work of art.” She took down Maria’s inseam.
“I don’t know. I’m too self-conscious.”
“Nonsense, you’re beautiful.” Dori raised Maria’s arm.
“That’s what I told her, but she won’t listen.”
“I don’t understand it, but I do respect it. Women deserve their dignity, and designers like me should learn to remember that.” Dori pulled a tablet off the pile of material on her desk and started tapping away. “I’ve got to get you some shoes. Do you mind Lorenti?” She gave Maria a somber look.
“I don’t mind at all but I have to warn you.”
“What’s that?”
“I have three left feet, and I can’t walk in heels.”
“Good, I hate heels.” Dori lifted up her leg to reveal her white flats. “They’re death traps, designed to torture women to make their butts look good. It’s barbaric.”
“You.” She pointed at me.
“Me?”
“Yes, you. You’re not wearing some basic outfit. I will not have my work displayed next to crap. Have your measurements changed?”
“No, but—”
“Ah-ah. What is my rule?”
“Never question the artiste,” I said.
“Exactly. Now go. Both of you. And don’t call me. I’ll call you.” She waved us out of her office just as Candy walked in, juggling our ridiculous orders. She looked right at me and threw my coffee into the bin behind the desk with a flip of her wrist.
“That’s what you get,” Maria said when she grabbed her drink. “He told me to haze you.”
Candy gave me the finger and said, “I know. I spit in his coffee just in case.”
“I wasn’t that bad, was I?” I asked when we got in the car.
“I think she had fun with it.” I turned to look at Maria. She looked back at me nervously. “What?”
“You just had one of the most popular designers in the country tell you she wants you to model her collection and you still think you’re ugly, don’t you?”
Maria scowled. “I don’t understand how somebody could be charming and infuriating at the same time. Half the time, I don’t know whether to punch you or kiss you.”
I dove in and slammed my lips against hers. Her anger surged out into a passionate storm. Her tongue plunged deep into my mouth and her hands moved up my back. Her nails dug in, sending chills through my body. I had to pull back just to keep from losing control.
She cocked her head. “Are you gonna chicken out on me?” She reached in and grabbed my shaft. It was already sticking up.
I took her hand and placed it back on her lap. “I’m just enjoying the pleasure of your company tonight.” I got the car in gear. “Is that bad?” I asked after a moment.
“No, it’s not. I’m enjoying myself, too.”
Chapter Twenty
Mercedes
I went into the kitchen to get myself a soda and sat down to look at my phone. I had six missed calls. I sighed and put it back down, but it started going off again. “What?” I answered.
“Uh, is this Maria?” Candy asked.
“I am so sorry, Candy.”
“It’s okay. Dori needs you to go downtown. I have an address here.” I waited while she looked for it. “It’s 16 South Duvalle. There’s a man named Leo there. Just ask for him.”
“Leo? Do you mean Leo Marin?”
“Yeah, is that a problem?” Candy asked.
“Jesus, no. I have an all-star cast dressing me and now a celebrity stylist.”
“It sounds like that guy really likes you,” Candy said.
“Guess so. Is the dress ready?”
“It’s always a work in progress. She’ll end up throwing the whole thing out and bringing you in this afternoon for a fitting. I hope you don’t mind.”
“I certainly don’t. Would you thank her for me?”
“I will.”
I rushed into my closet to find something reasonably presentable to wear, but everything was either old or outdated. I ended up with a white blouse and a pair of jeans, but it wasn’t enough. When I walked into the salon and saw the girls running around in designer clothes, I felt out of place.
Leo was a hair god. The man worked my hair like a painter with a brush, twisting and braiding it into the perfect messy bun with strands hanging down behind my ears. I looked like I was ready for the red carpet. Candy called as soon as I was done to send me off to the nail salon.
It became clear at that point that Jake was responsible for all of this. There was a lot of talk about me being the one that Dori mentioned, and how lucky I was to be going to the gala. When I left the nail salon, my phone started ringing again. It was Candy, of course. I answered as I got into my car.
“What’s next on the list?” I asked.
“She wants you to go to Bliss down on Eighth.”
“I’ll call you right back.” I hung up and dialed Jake’s number.
“Hey, how’s it going?” he asked.
“You paid for the best spa in the city.”
“I—”
“No,” I interrupted him. “I have been running around downtown on your credit card al
l day. I’ve got a designer dress in the works, designer shoes, a celebrity cutting my hair, and now you want to spend $10,000 on a spa trip.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.
“No?”
“No, it’s Dori.”
“Bull.”
“Is there anything wrong with wanting to give you a good time?” he asked.
“No, but—”
“You’re not going to complain when you’re in that chair.” He hung up.
I raged and nearly threw my phone out the window. Instead, I called Candy back. She answered.
“Do I have to go to the spa, Candy?” I asked.
“Why wouldn’t you? Dori sent me down there a couple weeks ago, and it was heaven.”
“I’m sure it was.”
“Let him pamper you,” she said. “Besides, they need to get your makeup ready, and Dori is starting to throw out the dress, so it won’t be long before she calls you in for a remake.”
“Make sure she knows how grateful I am,” I said before I got off.
The spa was beautiful and relaxing, with low lighting and a facial massage that left my skin tingling. I didn’t want to dive into this. I wanted to hate Jake and run away as far as I could. Instead, he was doing everything he could to make me happy.
It felt good, but that’s what bothered me so much about it. I wanted more, but he was so closed off. He’d never let me in, not the way I wanted. Instead, I was an unwilling spectator at my own slaughter, watching him peel apart my heart piece by piece.
The excitement bothered me the most. It wasn’t so much excitement as it was a deep desire, a need to see him, and the anticipation that went with it. It was unhealthy. I was a prostitute, not his girlfriend. I was never going to be his girlfriend, and I had to remember that. But it was difficult when he gave me things most girls could barely dream about.
I felt relaxed until I left the spa and realized I was going to spend all night with Jake. He’d see me dressed like a runway model. He’d peel my clothes off with his eyes, then his hands, and he’d spend the rest of the evening trying to make me scream. When I got in the car, I rested my head back and closed my eyes.
Breathe, I told myself. I couldn’t let this continue. I had to leave him behind and find some other way to help my parents. This wasn’t worth destroying myself over, but I knew that if I tried to run, I’d just end up running back to him or losing him altogether. I was getting used to our arrangement. I enjoyed every second of it. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t stop, and neither could he.
