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Eyes wide, she clamped her hand on top of his, causing him to chuckle. No way was she going to let him do what he was threatening, not with Sparky on the other end of the line.
Sparky was reeling off some incident report now. Back to business, it seemed. Taking her chance to escape, she slipped from his knee, giving him a peck on the cheek, not trusting herself with anything more. Her heart sped as she noticed the time. She had a dress fitting at Becca’s in just over an hour.
She had to leave in a few minutes. The thought of being late spurred her on. Even if Becca’s new place was only ten minutes away, she still hated the thought of this walk somehow taking an extra forty minutes.
Besides, she’d promised to grab them some drinks and pastries on the way. The queue could be huge. She sped to the bedroom, having the world’s quickest shower, but still taking the extra minute to kiss Miles goodbye, before grabbing her bag and dashing off.
Ivy stood waiting at the door, shifting uncomfortably under the heat of the two takeaway cups, which in no way contained the liquid magma within as she struggled to keep hold of the paper bag containing the pastries. Okay, maybe she should have had the foresight to take her own cups. She thought this every single time, especially since the cardboard holder didn’t do much to protect her fingers.
She’d stood at the patisserie, looking at the huge variety of choices and, for the life of her, she couldn’t pick one. Becca’s tastes changed as frequently as her hair. What if she brought something she didn’t want? So, instead, she’d brought a selection. Okay, okay, more like one of everything, well, two cinnamon rolls, because it was the only thing Ivy had a taste for. She loved those rich rolled treats, the sweet mixture of icing and cinnamon, but everything else, she could take it or leave it.
Besides, she owed it to Becca to make sure she had something special. She’d closed her boutique for the day just for this occasion. It’d be rude not to bring refreshments.
Becca loved her work. Her shop never closed. Even when she was away, she normally had staff running it. But with the situation surrounding Ivy she was being cautious. And she didn’t even know about those strange letters the security team had been intercepting, that Miles didn’t think she knew about since she’d tossed the first few away without a word. Once she realised he’d found one before her, it was too late to tell him, easier to play ignorant.
She didn’t want him to worry, and he was oversensitive at the moment about the stress in her life, thanks to the time she was spending with his mother and the shortened deadline on their wedding. It was best he thought she didn’t know. Of course, thanks to all of that, her best friend wasn’t taking any chances of this special occasion being ruined by a mob of paparazzi.
Ivy felt awful about the whole thing. Becca’s name was quickly becoming uttered amongst fashionistas. Her career had exploded. She had her own models, fashion lines, and constant invitations to events. Famous names had even commissioned her for her unique pieces for red-carpet events.
Ivy had not intended for her best friend to design her wedding dress. She’d not even asked. The moment she and Miles announced their wedding had been moved forward, Becca pulled a tape measure from somewhere on her person and attacked Ivy like a rabid beast.
“What did you do, buy the whole shop?” Becca asked as the door swung in, her gaze taking in Ivy’s flustered appearance.
“Not quite the whole shop, but I do think they threw in the kitchen sink for me.”
Becca gave Ivy a half-hug, lifting the cups from her as she pulled back. Her pixie cut wig framed her face beautifully, the black colour emphasising the midnight blue tips that matched the colour of her diva-like eyeshadow.
It took Ivy a few moments to realise there was a pin held between Becca’s teeth, its pearl end almost lost amongst the many piercings that decorated her face, piercings that enhanced her natural beauty and bold makeup.
“Come on, Vee. I can’t wait for you to see what I’ve done!” Becca linked her arm, marching her inside. But she didn’t remove that pin, not until she caught her staring at it. “I’m not going to swallow it you know.” Becca teased. No, she probably wouldn’t swallow it. She’d done it enough times, but that didn’t stop the image of the tiny stabby pin impaling her friend’s insides. Seeing Ivy continue to stare she pulled it from her mouth, to thread it into her sleeve for safekeeping.
Sure, that was better, now it’d just impale her every time she moved her arm. “1000 needles.”
“It’s one pin, not a cactuar.” Becca shook her head as if sensing the direction of Ivy’s thoughts.
It was a few moments before Ivy realised she’d actually muttered the attack’s name out loud and her friend wasn’t a mind-reader after all.
“Oh fine,” Becca relented, removing the pin to place it on one of the small tables. Now that the pin was gone, Ivy took a breath, relaxing a little, allowing herself to soak in the surroundings.
Becca had found this property, a vision from her dreams, when Ivy had been missing. She’d sunk herself into work. While Miles did everything he could to find Ivy, Becca had passed out fliers with her picture on them, had posted her details on her website, and her image on her invoices.
The property Becca had brought was on Central Park S, not too far from Carnegie Hall. A beautiful place for a shop filled with such character.
Becca had pulled some strings and used contacts to buy the first three stories of the Central Park facing property, turning the entire ground floor into her boutique. The first floor was what she liked to call her consultation and fitting area, since anything brought in Becca’s place was altered to fit the wearer, and the final floor had become her apartment.
Above the area owned by the shop were apartments, belonging to the building on her left.
The private area she was being led towards was on the first floor. As such, she’d used the discreet door, instead of the large decorative one that led into the shop. Although all the areas were interconnected and could be accessed from the shop floor, Becca preferred this entrance for personal use and appointments. She’d said it gave a more private feel to things.
Ivy followed Becca down the hall until she paused in front of some decorative doors that Ivy now knew opened to the elevator. The ground floor level opened both into this entrance hall, where the grand staircase climbed, and at the back of the shop.
Becca swiped her card against an invisible panel, and the doors slid open with a nearly silent sigh.
“How’s Battle-axe Barbie treating you? The offer still stands. I’d make her a dress the evil queen would be proud to have given Snow White.”
She could just visualise it, hidden spikes, movement triggered agony, it would be a thing of nightmares that if anyone could make, it was Becca. “Don’t tempt me.” Ivy sighed in time with the elevator doors. Miles’ mother had never liked her. Her father’s first case after moving them from England had been against Moira, one of her brunch buddies. He’d won, and her company had been made to pay a fortune in compensation. But that was what happened when the boss, Moira’s husband, had sexually assaulted one of his employees, got her pregnant, and then threatened her verbally and physically on CCTV.
To this day, Ivy wasn’t sure if Evelyn, Miles’ mum, even knew what the case had been about. It was hushed up in the press, NDAs were signed, and the woman in question had kept the baby and, from what Ivy heard, was living a happy and comfortable life. She wasn’t sure she’d have been able to do it, raise Owner’s child without feeling his touch, remembering his abuse, every time she looked at the baby, innocent though it was. She’d like to think she could, that she’d love the child, but she wasn’t sure she had that strength. Fortunately, it wasn’t a situation she’d had to face, and thinking of that woman’s bravery now, Ivy had a whole newfound respect for her.
