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I take my gown and head to the dressing room.

Amanda does the same.

I take my time, making sure it fits, looking at myself in the mirror, because I’m entranced by my reflection. The dress fits like a glove, like it was made for me.

A few minutes later, Amanda and I both step out of our dressing rooms.

Sherryl and a few of her friends, sales associates, I’m assuming, stand before us as our judges.

Amanda looks flawless in that dress. It hugs her body just like it does mine, but to be honest, it’s a little loose in the back. She’s literally jutting her chest out and flicking her hair every two seconds, which makes the dress look all sorts of wrong on her.

I’m not the only one who notices.

“Oh, ma’am. You look great. That dress was made for you.” Sherryl claps, looking at me. Her associates murmur in agreement.

Amanda’s smile slips, and her shoulders slump. Then she starts walking toward me in angry, brisk steps, before I can utter a word.

“You think you are some sort of queen just because a few lowlifes told you that you look good?”

I smile, “I don’t know, Amanda. But it seems to me, I won this challenge fair and square. Guess we know who’s the trash and who’s the gold, huh?”

That triggers something inside her. Call it jealousy or ire. All I know is the minute her fingers lock onto my dress, a dreadful feeling skitters across my skin.

She’s going to tear my dress and humiliate me in front of all these people.

But she never gets the chance to do so.

“Touch her dress and you’ll regret it.”

Alaric’s voice is calm, but the weight behind it makes my breath hitch. His presence shifts the entire atmosphere of the room, mostly because no one saw him come in. Heck, I didn’t feel him walk toward us.

One moment, Amanda is smug, brimming with glee like she owns everything here, and the next, she shrinks under the intensity of his gaze.

Amanda laughs, but it’s a brittle and scared sound. “Oh, come on, Alaric. I was just—”

“I don’t care what you were doing.” His voice is smooth, but the edge beneath it is sharp enough to cut. “Leave.”

Amanda hesitates, her eyes darting between us before she lets out a huff, muttering under her breath as she storms out of the boutique.

Silence settles between us, heavy and charged. Everyone around us seems to vanish into thin air as Alaric and I remain in our little bubble.

He steps forward, his gaze sweeping over me with an unreadable expression. Then, without a word, he pulls a small velvet box from his pocket and opens it. Inside, a red beryl necklace glimmers under the soft boutique lighting.

Someone gasps. Another one says, “Aww.”

I can’t even see them right now because I’m focused on him.

“For you,” he says simply.

I swallow hard. “Why?”

How are you even here? Did you follow me? Were you here with Amanda?

A lot of questions flit around in my mind, questions I don't voice out loud even though I want to.

“Because I want you to wear it.” His voice is quieter now, almost gentle. Then, as if sensing my hesitation, he adds, “It’ll go well with the dress.”

His fingers brush against my skin as he fastens the clasp, and the contact is fleeting, but it still lingers. My pulse thrums in my throat, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.