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Anissa was stung. What had just happened? What had she said? She stared down at the cards in her hand. One was a credit card, the other the entrance key to the penthouse.
Someone jostled her from behind and she almost dropped them. ‘Get a dress,’ he’d said. Did he really think she would just go and spend his money?
She wanted to run after him. She wanted to find out what on earth was wrong—what on earth she’d said.
But something told her not to. Something told her he needed time on his own. She still hadn’t really got to the bottom of what was happening in Leo Baxter’s life.
She moved away from the ice rink. The joy and excitement she’d experienced earlier deflated—just as if someone had pricked her with a pin.
Her feet carried her back to the bakery. She stared at the card in her hand. There was a tiny flare of anger. He had no idea what kind of person she was. She glanced at the designer store across the road. She’d never been a fan, but she could go in there and come out with a bag, shoes, jeans and coat that would easily total around ten thousand dollars.
For a few seconds she actually contemplated it, staring down at her worn black boots. There was a mannequin in the window dressed in cream coat, black shiny boots and a gold bag. But what use would a cream coat be anyway? She’d get it dirty within the first five minutes.
She sighed and joined the queue in the bakery again, ordering twenty-four cupcakes to be delivered to the penthouse. Her hand wavered as she gave the server Leo’s card, wondering if she should just pay for them herself.
But the server moved at lightning speed, handing the card back and packaging up the variety of cupcakes in a cardboard box.
Anissa started walking slowly back down the streets. Maybe she should take a chance and call Jules, even though she didn’t really know her. Her hand fumbled in her pocket, rustling a scrap of paper as she tucked the cards inside. She stopped and pulled it out.
The contact details Chloe had given her for her cousin. She swallowed and looked around. She didn’t want to go back to the penthouse yet—not if Leo was there. And she didn’t really want to wander around alone. Maybe Chloe’s cousin could tell her somewhere fun to go for a few hours—somewhere safe, and hopefully warm. She pulled out her phone and started dialling.
One hour and one subway ride later, Anissa was on her second bottle of beer with Chloe’s cousin, Jules.
Jules had been happy to hear from Anissa and invited her to join her and her friends in a local bar. Jules was dressed in a variety of black clothing with her thick dark hair swept over to one side. Her fingers picked at the foil around the neck of the bottle of beer. ‘So you’re telling me that some billionaire gave you his credit card, told you to spend, and you didn’t do it?’
Jules was looking at Anissa as if she were entirely crazy.
‘I bought cupcakes.’ She shrugged.
Jules shook her head. ‘Cupcakes.’ She reached across the table and grabbed Anissa’s hand. ‘Girl, you’re in New York. You could have bought just about anything! A pair of Louboutins. A Louis Vuitton bag. And you bought cupcakes?’
Anissa sighed and leaned her head on one hand.
‘Your guy sounds like a bit of a tool,’ remarked Jules.
‘He’s not my guy.’
‘Then what is he?’
Anissa shifted uncomfortably on her bar stool. She wasn’t quite sure what to call Leo. ‘He’s just...just...a friend.’
Jules eyebrows shot up. ‘A friend? But not your guy.’ She counted off on one hand. ‘So, he flies you to New York in his private jet, installs you in his penthouse with no strings. Takes you sightseeing and ice skating. Invites you to some party. Kisses you at the top of the Rockefeller Center, then abandons you at the ice rink and stomps off in a huff somewhere.’
Anissa rolled her eyes. ‘When you put it like that...’ She sighed. ‘And it’s not a party. It’s a ball. He told me to buy a dress.’
Jules sat a little straighter on her stool. ‘Ball? What ball?’
Anissa waved her hand. ‘I don’t know. Some Christmas charity ball. It’s in that famous hotel on Fifth Avenue, next to Central Park.’
Jules’s chin almost bounced off the bar. ‘Wh-what?’
Anissa felt a wave of discomfort. ‘What?’ she repeated.
Jules’s eyes were sparkling. ‘You’re going to the Christmas charity ball. The one that the whole of New York talks about. It’s on Saturday.’ She looked back at Anissa and squeaked. ‘It’s on Saturday—and you don’t have a dress!’ A strange kind of smile came over her face and she put her hands on her hips. ‘Well, aren’t you just the original Cinderella.’
Anissa stood up from her bar stool. ‘Okay, stop. You’re making me nervous. Is this a big deal? I didn’t know it was a big deal. Leo didn’t make it sound like that. He just told me I needed a formal dress.’
Jules slapped her hand on her forehead. ‘Mercy! The girl has a ticket to the hottest gig in town and doesn’t even know it.’ Her eyes ran up and down Anissa’s length. ‘Hmm...’ It was almost as if something flashed through her brain. She clapped her hands together. ‘You don’t have a dress!’
Anissa frowned. ‘You’ve said that—several times.’
Jules grabbed her jacket and bag, ‘Come with me. Come with me now. I have the perfect thing. Perfect.’
Anissa couldn’t think straight. Jules waved goodbye to her friends, jerked her hand and Anissa had to stop to grab her own jacket before she was dragged out onto the cold street.
Jules kept muttering all the way along the street. ‘This will be great. This will be perfect. It will suit you. Your name’s written all over it.’
She pushed Anissa towards a building and led her up a flight of stairs to an apartment. As soon as Jules pushed open the front door Anissa sucked in a breath. It was like walking into another world.
There were mannequins everywhere, each wearing a unique dress design, each one a little more spectacular than the one next to it. And although Jules seemed to dress exclusively in black, there wasn’t a single black item to be seen. Green. Blue. Red. Silver. Purple.
Anissa’s foot hovered on the threshold. It was like the story from her childhood where the kids stepped through the back of a wardrobe into another wor
ld.
Jules seemed not to have noticed her hesitation. She marched straight over to a pale blue gown, glittering with jewels.
She turned to look at Anissa, her face filled with pent-up anxiety. ‘What do you think?’
Anissa stepped inside, closed the door behind her and followed to where Jules was standing.
Jules paced around the mannequin.
‘I made this for my fashion show. As soon as you said you needed a dress, it just flashed into my head. I can see you in it. I can see you in this dress. It’s perfect. It suits your complexion and your eyes.’ Jules pressed her hands together in front of her. ‘What do you think? Would you consider it? Would you consider wearing one of my designs?’
Anissa couldn’t talk. She couldn’t think straight. She walked around the dress. It was pale blue with a sequined and beaded bodice with a slash neck, and a skirt made of layers and layers of pale blue tulle hanging completely straight. It was quite simply the most beautiful dress Anissa had ever seen.
She put her hand up to her chest. ‘You want me to wear one of your designs?’
Jules immediately started babbling. ‘Well, only if you want to. Only if you think it’s good enough. But it would mean so much to me—having a dress I’ve designed worn by someone attending the Christmas ball of New York. It’s my dream come true.’
Anissa couldn’t believe her ears. The dress was stunning.
‘You w-want me to wear...this?’
‘Don’t you like it?’ Jules’s voice was instantly defensive.
‘I love it,’ breathed Anissa. ‘Will it fit?’ she hardly dared to ask.
Jules nodded enthusiastically. ‘Let’s try it. As soon as I looked at you I thought it might work. We can make adjustments, if needed.’
Jules released the zipper at the back of the dress and slid it off the mannequin. She pushed Anissa towards her bedroom. ‘Go in there. Try it on.’
