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But I kept my mouth shut and said nothing because the argument I knew would ensue if I said anything wasn’t worth it.
SCARLETT
After a couple of hours helping at the bakery, I arrived home to a delivery on our front porch. Mom and Dad would be at the shop for hours yet, and so I took the box inside with me. Tucked under one arm, I carried it into the kitchen and set it on the table, planning to drop it off before heading to my room. If I wanted to squeeze some sketching in before my “big” date—the one Thorne had been tight-lipped about—then I’d better get to work.
I spun on my heel and to the kitchen cupboard and grabbed a glass, then filled it with water from the fridge as my gaze flickered back to the box. Curious, I took a drink and returned to it, sliding my gaze over the label. With a jolt of surprise, I found my name, which was weird considering I wasn’t expecting anything, and the return address was one I didn’t recognize in New York.
My forehead scrunched as I slowly tore the plain brown paper off the box to reveal more wrapping underneath—this time in shiny black paper adorned with gold silk ribbon.
I unknotted the bow and slid the ribbon off before I lifted the lid with a gasp. Inside a puff of pink gauzy tissue paper lay a dress every bit as black as the paper it was wrapped in.
Tentatively, my hands reached out to touch it. Gently, I brushed my fingers over the heavy fabric covered in a million shimmering beads and admired the craftsmanship. The thick straps led to a sweetheart neckline, and when I pulled it further from the box, I flipped it around to reveal little crisscrossed straps over a low sweeping back.
Sliding it the rest of the way out, I held it up to my body to reveal a slim bodice with a slight mermaid tail. The cut was impeccable, the dress petite like me. And, from the looks of it, hand-beaded.
I was no stranger to fashion. This dress had cost an absolute fortune, and suddenly, I was sure I knew who sent it.
My gaze flickered back to the box where I found a card tucked inside the folds of tissue paper.
I pulled it out and opened it, lingering over the two simple words that made my heart skitter in my chest.
For tonight.
-xo Thorne
P.S. Valentino says hi
I blinked, certain I read it wrong. But no matter how many times I cleared my vision and looked again, the card still said the same thing.
My hands shook as I set the card down and reached for the dress once more.
I wanted to hate it. I wanted to think it was no big deal.So I held a Valentino in my hands, so what?When Thorne asked me if I liked it—and he would—I wanted to respond with cool indifference. Anything different would cause me to sink into this vortex of feelings for him I couldn’t quite decipher. And that was dangerous.
But I couldn’t pretend or even act indifferent. Because holy-cheese-Batman, he bought me a Valentino for tonight, and it was absolutely stunning.
Sketches forgotten, I tore out of the kitchen and up the stairs to my bedroom where I laid the dress on the bed and removed my sweatshirt and jeans like I was trying to win the Guinness Book of World Records for quickest wardrobe change.
I gently tugged the gown over my head and shoulders, smoothing the fabric over my hips, praying it fit.
I headed for the full-length mirror over my door, surprised by the weight of the material and the subtle swishing sound of it when I walked. With a deep breath, I lifted my gaze to my reflection. Wide eyes stared back at me in disbelief. It fit like a glove, like it was made for me. The girl I’d been only moments ago had transformed into a woman.
Thorne had never once asked for my measurements, and I’m not sure what my reaction would’ve been if he had. Yet somehow, he’d guessed perfectly. Or maybe it was simply Valentino’s work that deserved all the credit. Whatever it was, it reminded me of why I loved fashion. Because wearing the right dress transformed me.
The sound of my ringtone broke the silence, so I pivoted toward the bed where I’d discarded my jeans and fished it out of my pocket. Hoping it was P, so I could tell her all about the gown, I glanced down at it, only to find Thorne’s name lighting up the screen.
My pulse quickened as I answered, trying to sound casual as I said hello, despite the slight tremor in my voice, because if food was a way to a man’s heart, Valentino was the way to a woman’s—at least, this one.
“I assume you got my gift?”
I glanced down at the beaded masterpiece. Gift was such a small word for the extravagance of it.
“I did,” I said after I found my voice.
“And?”
A small puff of air escaped my lips. “It’s . . . perfect,” I said, shaking my head, knowing it was inadequate but the most concise way to sum up how I felt about it.
“Good.” I could practically hear the smile in his voice as he added, “Be ready in an hour. I’ll be picking you up.”
