AllFreeNovel
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I shrug. “I haven’t decided.” I think of the card Landon gave me before we left his apartment. It was almost plain, embossed with the name of a store I’d never heard of. I knew of places like that, highbrow outfitters with direct contact with the best designers. I’d only have to call the number and I’d have something sublime to wear, paid for by Landon.
For some reason even I wasn’t sure of, I was hesitating, thinking instead of getting Aunt Jacie to hook me up with one of her many fashion industry contacts. It was a sure way to get a couture dress at a great price.
Chelsea is looking at me as if I’ve gone insane. “You haven’t…” she sighs. Sonali purses her lips, agreeing silently with whatever Chelsea is thinking. “I know what to do,” Chelsea says, her eyes shining. “We’ll go upstairs.”
My eyes widen. ‘Upstairs’ is Gilt Style, and the legendary closet that holds decades worth of designer clothes and accessories, worth millions. “No!” I exclaim, not sure if it’s even possible.
“Why ever not?” Even Sonali looks excited, “That place is a treasure trove.”
“I have a friend up there,” Chelsea declares with a wink. “Veronica Short, the head stylist who, lucky for you, owes me a favor.” She leans forward with an excited grin. “She’ll style you to within an inch of your life, Rachel. You’ll love it.”
“What kind of favor does she owe you?”
“Does it matter?” Chelsea grimaces. “What we want is for you to look like a billion dollars, and she can make that happen.”
That decides it. “Fine,” I agree. “When?”
“I’ll talk to her,” Chelsea promises.
AFTER work, Joe is there to take me home. Laurie isn’t back yet, so I’m left to prepare for Landon’s cocktail mixer alone. By the time he arrives to pick me up, I’m all dressed up and ready. My dress is vintage Balenciaga, courtesy of my mom. It’s a deep-blue, knee-length number with a neckline that’s just low enough to reveal a hint of cleavage. My hair hangs down to my shoulders in loose waves, and my jewelry is simple. Earrings and a matching bracelet.
When I open the door, Landon is standing there, devastatingly handsome in a black tux. His piercing gaze travels from my face to my dress and back up, and his eyes flare. “Rachel,” he says simply, taking my hand. “I’ll never get used to how beautiful you are.”
And I would never get used to the pleasure of knowing that he saw me as beautiful. “Thank you,” I reply, adding frankly, “You look fab, as usual.” It would never be possible to be in the same room with him without being overcome by his perfection.
His hands trail down my arm, his fingers lingering on my skin and making my body hum with pleasure. “Are you ready?”
“Yes,” I breathe.
In the car, Landon’s eyes continue to devour me, feeding a flowering of delight in my belly. “You look like you’re about to jump my bones,” I tell him.
“I’m trying not to.” He laughs, the deep rumble making me smile with him. “We’re leaving as early as we can manage. I’m not spending valuable time at a party when I’d rather be with you.”
I run my tongue over my lower lip. “Now, I don’t want to go at all.”
He pulls me onto his lap, careful not to wreck my clothes or my hair. “I’m going to have a hard time surviving two days without you,” he murmurs. “What have you done to me?”
I raise a hand to smooth his silky hair. “I bewitched you,” I reply, although I’m certain that he’s the one who’s bewitched me.
He smiles. “You certainly did.”
I close my eyes and lean my forehead on his, and we stay like that for a few moments. “Just so you know, I’ll be having fun while you’re gone.” I give him a sly glance. “I’ll be out clubbing all night Friday. So I won’t miss you too much.”
“So I’ll be suffering alone.” He sighs. “I think you just broke my heart.”
I breathe, feeling a small heartache as I fill my lungs with air that’s infused withhim. “I’ll miss you too,” I tell him. “Every single minute.”
There’s a press line outside the venue of the party and we dutifully take pictures. Landon’s hand never leaves the spot he has claimed around my waist as we walk inside together. Inside the venue, a champagne fountain refills glasses continuously, with different colored lights igniting the stacked champagne flutes like muted rainbows.
Near the entrance, a tall, lanky man with a pleasant face and carefully side-swept brown hair, breaks into a big grin when he sees Landon. They shake hands. The man is Steven Yeager, the host, and his smile widens when Landon introduces me as his girlfriend.
The statement causes a warmth to start somewhere in my chest and spread until I’m practically floating. I manage to compose myself and smile pleasantly at Steven. “Good to meet you,” he says, giving me a conspiratorial look. “Hold on to him,” he whispers, inclining his head towards Landon. “He’s a big softie inside.”
“I know,” I respond, laughing. I look at Landon, and he’s gazing at me with a smile. My heart tightens with the magnitude of my love for him, but the moment is broken by other people approaching him. As the evening progresses, I smile and respond to introductions, all the while aware of Landon’s hand around my waist, on the small of my back, his fingers gently stroking me through the fabric of my dress. I don’t mind, I love his possessiveness, and I love his touch.
“Landon!”
The voice comes from behind us. It’s a woman’s voice, husky, rich and almost certainly the voice of someone who is confident of the fact that she’s beautiful.
