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“So, you know a little about a lot of things?”
“Essentially.”
I frown while staring at the dress. It’s too gorgeous for me to put on. “Is that even my size?”
“Everythingin here is your size, silly.”
“But what if my tits fall out?”
She cackles. “That’s not going to happen. I promise. It’s just revealing enough to give cleavage. You have nothing to worry about. Haven’t you worn stuff like this before?”
“I mean…” I hug my shoulders. Every bone in my body vibrates with self-conscious radiation. “I’ve worn skimpy stuff before, but…”
“Go on. Try it,” she insists while stepping forward. “You don’t need me to convince you. You just need to see yourself in it.”
She respectfully turns away and I quickly drop the jeans and cardigan, shaky fingers holding up the kind of dress that I’ve seen in fashion spreads. This isn’t me.
But then again, I’m notmeanymore, am I?
I’m someone new. And I can be just about anything I want now that I have Pavel’s trust.
“Your brother has been listening to me,” I say while pulling on the gown. “He’s asking for my opinion now.”
Karina claps. “Bravo, Liya. I’m sure that wasn’t easy.”
“Yeah, no kidding.” I struggle with the zipper of the dress. “Could you help me out?”
“Absolutely.”
She turns around and slides the zipper into place, locking me in the bodice. It’s more modest than I had anticipated while still revealing enough to catch the eye. The right sleeve hugs my shoulder and folds into a heart around my chest, leaving the left shoulder bare. Glittering black fabric flows over my hips and opens in a slit on my left thigh.
“I can’t pull this off.”
“Sure you can,” Karina assures while plucking a pair of matching black heels from the shelf. She holds them out to me as she says, “You’re much stronger than you think, Liya. You shouldn’t worry so much.”
Easy for you to say, I think as I accept the heels.You’re not the one in my position.
***
Basilic sits on the fourth floor of a posh building just across the street from Central Park. Pavel guides me with the lightest touch by my elbow, insisting that I walk ahead of him when our waitressgreets us at the entrance.
“Pavel Sergeyevich,” she says warmly. “Welcome back to Basilic, sir.”
She shoots me a look of disdain—and that’s about all she does in regard to me. My anxiety flares, but I try to keep a polite grin.
It’s just dinner. I’m not going to die. When the waitress leans forward to kiss Pavel’s cheek, heat flares in my chest.But somebody else might.
The feeling worsens when Pavel returns the friendly greeting. “Dawn, it’s lovely to see you again.”
“And you.” She grabs two menus and gestures toward the main dining area. “Please follow me to your booth.”
I chafe my arm while stepping in line after Pavel, nearly colliding with the waitress. Her apologetic grin doesn’t reach her eyes, and she continues walking past me as ifI’mthe one who just committed a party foul.
I gulp.Did I just do something wrong? Or was that an accident? Christ, I’m going to overthink everything tonight.
I’m trying to act cool. I’m trying not to worry, just like Karina said. But I’m not feeling as strong as I did when I looked at my completed ensemble in the mirror. Royalty was on my mind then.
Now? Not so much.
