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"Tommaso, my friend! What a pleasure to see you," she exclaims, extending a hand. There are a few other people inside the boutique. Their business is faring well from my connections, probably why Gia is extra welcoming today. I shake her hand firmly, reciprocating the warm greeting. The staff, four petite brunette girls, busy attending to customers, sneak glances our way.
"Likewise, Gia. Meet Ella Hart, my special guest to the summit tonight and the reason why we are here," I introduce, gesturing toward Ella. She is tugging at the corner of her short and fitted top. And looks absorbed.
Gia’s small eyes light up as she turns her attention to Ella. "Ah, gorgeous. Welcome, Miss Hart! I am Gia. Anything you desire, consider it yours." The staff echoes their welcome as we walk ahead, creating an atmosphere where I'm not just any customer. And I want Ella to see that reverence. She, clearly taken aback, observes the scene with wide eyes. I can't help but feel a hint of amusement at her reaction.
Gia leads us to a selection of the finest dresses, her expert eye already gauging Ella's style. "For the summit, my dear, you need something that says both sophistication and power. Tommaso knows the finest taste, and I'm here to make sure you dazzle." She is zoned out. Still looking around her with big eyes.
Sweet.
Chapter Eighteen
ELLA
It’s as if I have entered an alternate universe. I look closely at Gia’s expression. No signs of horror. There's no sense of fear or trepidation among the staff either.
Instead, they just greeted a Mafioso like a damn hero. My eyes widen in disbelief, unable to reconcile the man I know with the reception he receives. I look at Tommaso, who knits his brow.
“What?”
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
“You look a little taken aback, Miss Hart.” A little?
“Maybe.” I say absentmindedly. I try to dismiss the flashbacks from the restaurant. The owner’s face, his pleas, Tommaso’s men beating him like animals.
“Please.” A blonde female offers us drinks. I look at the crystal glasses with the blue liquid inside.
“Azul.” Gia grins. “They only make six bottles of that every year.” Tommaso doesn’t look surprised and gives a gentle smile in response. I look at the glass again. Stunned.
“These are the special editions,” Gia sifts through a big rack. “Perfect for special occasions.”
She takes out a big fishtail dress, all black with zircons on it, shining like stars. “Would you like to try this one on?” Oh god. It’s stunning. I nod and one of the girls guides me to the changing room. I check the tag as soon as I’m inside.
$12,998. Holy shit. I gulp and take my blouse off. I look at the dress and then at myself in the mirror. I have no panties on and my groin is red from last night. I slip into it, careful not to tug at any of the stones.
I turn back and it’s as if I’m a different person. The young woman staring back at me looks worthy of a red carpet. The strapless top, the color, the fitting. It’s perfect. It’s fitted and flatters the few curves I have. I can’t help but smile.
I open my hair which I tied into a bun earlier and it falls in soft waves around my face, spilling over my shoulders to my breasts. I tuck one side behind my ear and walk out of the changing room.
“Oh my god. Absolutely breathtaking!” Gia splatters out and immediately starts adjusting the tail of the dress, smoothing out any ruffles.
“You look like a princess!” she says, patting my shoulders. I giggle.
“Do you agree, Tommaso?” We both look at him, sitting on the plush sofa, all pensive and jaded. He shakes his head the slightest bit and Gia immediately asks the girls to bring out more dresses. He doesn’t approve a Cmelot dress that costs more than a fortune? I have only dreamt of having dresses like these.
I give him a weird look and shift my attention to Gia again. She holds a silver, floor-length, satin gown. It looks as stunning as the one I’m wearing.
“Would this be better?” she looks quizzically at Tommaso. He puckers his brow. Seriously? I frown at him.
“Right. We can go for something a little more elaborate, maybe… how about… this one?!” She holds another satin gown, plum, this time. It is backless and something I’ve seen only actresses wear to award shows.
“I love this. I would like to try this one,” I say.
“Perf–” Gia is cut off by Tommaso.
“This one. She will try this on,” he drawls. He is holding a dark red cocktail dress, with ribbons tied at the top and a slit at the bottom. Gia instantly beams, thankful to see some approval from Tommaso. Why does he have to be so controlling?
“I would rather go with the satin ones,” I smile at Gia.
