Page 12

Chapter Twelve

L ILA WINTER

I choose you as my plus one, but it’s strictly for work.

His voice gnaws on my mind like an ich that can’t be scratched. I’m not going to lie and say my breath didn’t hitch when he said he had chosen me, neither am I going to lie and say when he added the word “work” in the next sentence, my heart didn’t shatter even a little.

Work companion or not, I had seen the look in his eyes when he slid his black AMEX card against the glass on my desk, pushing it toward me.

Alaric wants me to look good for this banquet.

He might not want me to embarrass him, but I read his words and saw his eyes as they roamed down my body. He wants to see me in the best clothes his money can buy.

Honestly, I should be ashamed for taking his card, but in truth, I have nothing in my closet that would match the clothes any of the women who were supposed to accompany Alaric to the banquet would have worn.

So here I am. In one of the most luxurious and most expensive stores in the city.

Royale Atelier.

The bouquet’s name is skillfully written in golden italics outside the massive building.

I gaze at the revolving doors and the windows by my side that showcase some of the most beautiful dresses I’ve ever laid eyes on.

Lina would have been excited if she got to see this. I bet she’d want everything in this store. The thought itself almost crushes me, but I push it away. Someday, I’ll be able to buy my little girl all the finest dresses in this freaking city.

Holding my purse close to my hip, I walk inside Royal Atelier. The moment I step in, the air itself shifts, and gone is the choking car smog. Instead, I’m met with the exquisite scent of fresh leather, expensive perfume, and the type of indulgence Lina and I only see in movies.

A whiff of freshly baked croissants wafts in the air the more I walk in. Gilded mirrors all around reflect back an image of someone who doesn’t belong here.

Not in the exquisite dresses put on mannequins.

Not on the white floors, walls, and everywhere I see.

And not in the crowd of cheery women shopping.

I should have just gone to a cheaper store, because in here, I feel like an imposter.

If it wasn’t for Alaric’s black card in my purse, I probably wouldn’t even be able to afford to clean the toilets here, let alone munch on the wonderful appetizers that are croissants placed a few feet from where I’m standing—

“Ma’am? Ma’am, hello?”

I snap from my thoughts when a willowy blonde stands in front of me with a practiced smile.

“Hello,” I greet her.

The blonde has an exquisite set of pearls around her neck that match the white in her teeth. Her ironed work outfit looks like it cost an arm and a leg.

“Welcome to Royale Atelier. How can I assist you today?”

Another practiced smile.

Another predatory gleam in her eyes like she can sense I don’t know anything about gowns, nor do I look like someone who can afford one.

Clearing my throat and pushing away my hesitation, I say, “I need a gown. Something elegant and formal but not too formal?”

This time, when she replies, her shoulders are relaxed and her eyes less intense.

“I got you. We have a wonderful array of gowns. You can walk with me while I show you all the gowns we have here If you like one, you can try it on.”

“Okay. I would like that.”

Her answer to my sentence is a nod as she gestures to me to follow her through the sprawling boutique.

Once again, I catch a reflection of myself in the mirror.

Alaric let me off early today so I could go shopping, so I’m still in my office attire. I gaze at my outfit—a pink shirt and one of my usual dark skirts. Goddess, I look underdressed, and I’m unsure about whether I can find a gown that will make me look like a model overnight.

Sherryl, from what her name tag says, shows me a lot of dresses. Lots of sequin dresses, lots of ruffled dresses, and ballroom ones. Only one gown catches my eye.

It’s black, elegant, formal, but not too formal, like in an I’m trying too hard sort of way. It’s satin. Everyone knows, money or not, satin is the sexiest and most comfortable fabric.

My fingers touch the material, and a small smile forms on my face.

“It’s a pretty piece, ma’am. Want to try it?” Sherryl asks.

I’m about to say it’s perfect, but my mood goes south when I get a whiff of Amanda’s familiar suffocating, headache-inducing perfume.

“Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in. If it isn’t little miss secretary trying to play dress-up in a world she doesn’t belong in.”

Oh boy.

Sherryl stands behind me with a curious expression.

I don’t have to turn around to recognize who it is, but I do.

Amanda stands a few feet away, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at her lips.

She’s dressed immaculately, as always, her designer outfit clinging to her like it was made for her alone.

I would respond to her jab, probably even engage, but we are in public. I don’t want to snag attention.

I force a polite smile. “Amanda.”

She smiles, but it’s the kind of smile that gives me hives. I know her, and she’s about to declare war on me right here, right now.

I see it in the way she tilts her head, looking at the dress behind me, before she walks toward it to feel it with her fingers, too.

“Wow, this is quite the dress, but um, isn’t it a little ambitious for someone like you?”

I arch a brow. “What do you mean ‘someone like me’?”

At the same time, Sherryl tries to act like a buffer. “Ladies, if we could please refrain from—”

Amanda’s smile is all saccharine poison as she interrupts Sherryl.

“Oh, come on. We both know you have no place at that banquet. You’re only going because you managed to worm your way into Alaric’s good graces.

But let’s be honest, Lila, you don’t belong beside a man like him.

Whores have never been Alaric’s cup of tea. ”

I knew Amanda was going to come up with something despicable, but her words hit harder than they should.

I refuse to let her see it, though. I’ve dealt with worse. I’ve survived worse.

Sherryl looks shocked at the blunt insult.

I let that fucking “whore” insult roll off my back.

“You think you are better suited for him?” I ask her.

Amanda rolls her eyes. “Honey, I’ve been suited for Alaric long before you entered the picture, but if you think you are better, by all means, we can both try the gown. See who looks like gold beside Alaric and who looks like trash. You there…get me this exact gown.”

Sherryl nods quickly. “Yes ma’am.”

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.

Then, just as quickly as he arrived, he steps back.

“I’ll see you at the banquet.”

And with that, he’s gone, leaving me standing in the middle of a boutique with a racing heart and an ache in my chest I don’t quite understand.

But something stirs inside me that is so familiar. Like a dream I’ve forgotten that’s begging me to remember. It brushes the edges of my mind just like Alaric’s faint touch on my neck, and it’s as if something inside me is beginning to awaken.