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Valentina's expression clears, and she brings her hand to his face. "You're a good boy, darling."
Apparently she doesn't believe in asking for details, whether her grandson claims to burn down houses ortake careof some guy.
He wouldn't have, like,killedsomeone, would he?
No, of course not. Camden's not that kind of psycho. I don't think.
I file my manyquestions for later and follow Valentina, who walks much slower now. "Here, take my chair, darling, it's much more comfortable. Camden, there's a footstool in the dressing room next door. And get someone to bring us tea, yes?"
I grin, loving every moment as I watch him obey his grandmother like a busboy.He brings back a pink and gold footstool before leaving to fetch us drinks.
Valentina, for her part, opens a large black book at the end of her desk. Inside, it's filled with fabrics and colors. She hands me a form, and tells me to choose my favorite on each page.
"Are you a designer?"
She inclines her head. "Well, I was.Am. I still have a clothing line, but it mostly runs itself these days. I only work on occasional pieces. I am retired, you see." She sighs dramatically. "One little health mishap and my son threatened me until I agreed to step back. But I must dosomething.My son and grandson are busy, my friends only want to party, and I'mbored. I opened this place to be of advice to those who need my help. Only a few friends, of course. Adrian and Camden ganged up on me. They're quite particular about my hours."
I grin unrepentantly. Adrian Hunt is a mama's boy. And Camden, a grandma's boy. Who would have known?
"So, you'll help me pick clothing?"
"I'd be remiss in not doing so, as my grandson burned down your house." A smile tugs at her lip. "You're not taking it too badly, are you?"
I wave dismissively. "I know Camden. He's crazy. Crazy things happen around crazy people."
"It takes a special woman to accept the crazy."There's no judgment in her tone.
"Hemeant well." I feel like I'm justifying myself, more than him. "I wasn't safe there."
"Uh-huh. All right, get going, pet. There are quite a few options to run through, and I want to chat after you're done."
The book has at least a hundred pages, and there are a dozen options on each one, so it takes some time, but I do as I'm told. Valentina hums and nods, mostly, though she occasionally has a comment or two.
"Is that cream truly your favorite, or just the safest bet, pet?" she asks when I choose between shades of linen.
I bite my lip. My first instinct was to go for the sage green, but I wasn't certain it'd suit me. I tell her so, and she laughs out loud. "You have one assignment, Morgan. You pick yourpreference.I'll worry about what suits you, yes?"
I nod and get back to work.
Camden only pops by to deliver us tea before disappearing again. Part of me wonders whether he's with Anne somewhere, making good use of her mouth.
After the fabric, Valentina has another book, this one filled with runway and red-carpet photos. A second form requires me to tick or cross every page.
Then she talks to me about movies and songs, offering her own preference, so the conversation flows swimmingly.
Valentina's nice—not just on the surface, and not because she's trying to sell a service. I doubt she'll even charge Camden. She's just the kind of person who want to truly get to know people, which probably makes her amazing at her job.
By the time we're done, I have a list of old alternative rock to check out, and too much information about her driver Pablo and the Jacob ladder on his cock.
She measures me and walk me back to the entrance of her shop.
"I have a few options downstairs for you. Camden said he's taking you to the Lambert gala tonight—I'll see that you have a dress for that, too. I'll ship the rest of your wardrobe within the week. Anything you're not in complete love with, you send right back, understood? I want you to adore everything, down to your simplest cotton panties."
"I don't see how one can adore cotton panties." My mind is elsewhere, because Camden is nowhere to be seen, and nor is Anne.
"That is because I’ve never sent you any," Valentina says. Humility must run in the family.
I chuckle, just as Camden reappears, coming through a door with Anne at his heel.
