I’m pretty proud of this piece, if I’m honest with myself. Sure, there are things I would likely tweak a second time around, but given the time frame I had and limited materials, I think I did a damn good job.
Hearing her compliment, as messed up as it is, brings me an unsettling warmth. I shouldn’t want her approval. She’s horrible and crude. Yet a part of me, deep inside, craves it anyway.
She steps into the gown, pulling the delicate straps up over her shoulders, and I immediately get to work on zipping her up and securing the overlaying beads across the zipper.
Her head turns toward where the white feathered mask sits on the desk.
“I can add more gems or beads if you’d like.”
Stop being nice, Cirella. Come on. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
“We’ll see once it’s on.” She pauses not a second, her patience growing thin. “How much longer?”
I fasten the final button and step back. “Done.”
Slipping the mask over her dark hair and eyes, she walks over to the small mirror hanging on the back of my door. “The mirror is too small, Cirella. I can’t see the entire ensemble.”
As ifIhave any control over that.
She could’ve tried this on inherroom with help from her assistant, Riley. Lord knows why that woman could possibly need an assistant, but I digress.
Knowing that she simply wants to complain, not have a genuine conversation, I let her be for a moment to take it all in.
She sways side to side and spins, getting a view of the dress from all angles. She tries to hide it, but I can see the giddiness in her eyes. The kind a little girl gets when playing dress-up for the first time.
This is why I love fashion and why I love creating pieces—for moments likethis. I want to be the fairy godmother for everyone else, bringing their inner child out.
“This will do,” she mutters, her face falling flat.
At least some things never change.
“Good. I’m glad.” I smile softly, admiring how flawlessly this fits her.
The seams are precise. Not a strand or stitch out of place. It may be my best work yet.
That’s saying something, given the fact that I’ve made her wardrobe for the last few years, since she discovered my hidden talent.
She had left me no choice but to learn how to sew when she refused to buy me proper-fitting clothes as I got older. I had to alter the ones I had in order to create new pieces.
“Undo it now,” she orders, showing me her back.
I quickly get to work, the question of our previous deal on the tip of my tongue. I made this dress in exchange for something, one of my parents’ possessions at the house.
They were collectors of art, of anything they saw beauty in, which was a lot, given their loving hearts. But one of my favorites is their collection of glass and crystal pieces. Some of them were passed down from my grandmother—a woman I know so much about, but didn’t have the luxury of meeting before she passed.
I miss them now more than ever, and I’ve never been allowed to take anything out of the house. I’ve been granted permission to visit from time to time, but never bring anything with me.
“Does that mean you’ll let me get the three mice?” I beg, wanting to finally possess one of my mom’s most cherished pieces.
After all, she named me after her favorite fairy tale, wanting me to always remember to be kind and true. I just wish the legacy of Cinderella hadn’t hit so close to home with an evil stepmother.
At least, Adrianna didn’t have two conniving daughters. That might have been my breaking point.
Adrianna ignores me, and the silence fills the room, weighing everything down. I want to shout at her and demand answers, but I can’t. Not if I want to be on her good side.
Only once she’s free of the gown and mask does she turn to me, standing in only her Spanx, bra, and underwear.
Reaching up, she pinches my jaw in her hand. “I can’t get that to you, honey.” She pauses, and my breath freezes in my throat. “It’s already gone. Instead, I brought you this.”
