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“Your personal shopper.”
“Personal shopper?”
“Yes. This boutique is exclusive. Gabrielle called in a few favors to get this appointment. They don’t just see anyone.”
“We could have found something at one of the shops we were in.”
“No. I want something special for tonight and I didn’t see anything good enough for you.”
“Here you are, Mr. Remington,” snobby lady says, handing Chase and me a glass of wine. “Cecile will be out momentarily.”
“Thank you,” he dismisses her, and she scurries off. Looking at my watch, I see it’s almost twelve-thirty.
I take a sip of wine as a thin, older woman comes in. She appears to be in her late forties, with grey peeking through her brunette hair. “Mr. Remington, Ms. Barrett, I’m Cecile. I’ll be taking care of you today.” She shakes our hands. “Gabby told me a little bit about what you would like. I understand a cocktail dress is needed?”
“Yes, for an event this evening. Black, if possible.”
“I have quite a few for you to choose from. Olivia, please stand up so I can take your measurements. Also, what’s your shoe size?”
Standing, I walk to where Cecile has her measuring tape, and murmur, “Seven and a half.”
When she’s finished measuring, she says, “Great. I have some dresses that will work perfectly. Take a seat and I’ll bring out a few.” She turns and disappears into the back of the shop.
“Bring them?” I ask Chase, confused.
“Yes. We sit here and Cecile will bring you a selection of dresses. The one’s you like, you can try on.”
“This is so strange. I like looking through the racks.”
“They don’t have racks here. Each dress is one of a kind.”
“One of a kind?” I ask, inwardly cringing. Chase nods, giving me a reassuring smile.
Cecile reappears with a large selection of dresses hanging from a from a rolling rack, as well as a few pairs of shoes. “Okay, I brought up a few of my favorites, as well as one’s I thought would work with your body type.” She holds up the dresses one by one, explaining their fabric type and cut.
“I’m going to need more than a glass of wine for this,” I mutter to no one in particular. Chase stifles a laugh. I choose a few I like and Chase chooses more than a few he likes. By the end, I have a dozen dresses to try on.
We’re escorted to a larger room with a huge dressing area in the center. Chase takes a seat on the couch directly across from a full-length mirror and Cecile wheels the dresses I chose into the dressing room while I follow dutifully behind.
“We’ll just be a few minutes,” Cecile says to Chase as she closes the door.
“Okay. Undress, and I’ll be helping you get some of these on. A few are tricky.” As I strip, Cecile removes one of the dresses from its hanger. Zipping me in, I open the door to show Chase. Looking me over, his face remains impassive, but his tight lips give him away. He hates it.
I repeat this for eleven more dresses, and of course, the last dress I try on is the one I really like. It’s a black, one-shoulder gown with crystal encrusted rings atop the shoulder and a long, bunched waistline. Cecile matched it with a pair of silver crystal encrusted three-inch heels. As I walk toward Chase, his eyes follow the very long slit up my right leg.
“So, which one do you like?” I ask, already knowing his answer.
“I absolutely love this dress on you, Ms. Barrett. It’s the epitome of sexy.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Chase says. “We’ll take it.”
“And the shoes?”
“Are they comfortable, Olivia? It’s going to be a long evening.”
“Yes. Surprisingly, they are.”
“We’ll take the shoes as well,” he says to Cecile, never taking his eyes off me.
