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“Now he has money and class. The woman he ends up with will be an elegant masterpiece. She’ll have to be if she wants to keep him. A man like that doesn’t come along more than once in a lifetime.”
“You do realize I’m going with him to the ball on Friday, right?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought George said you and Mr. De Kysa were just friends.” She hisses back a grimace. “Just as well you’re thinking about buying the Betty Savilles. I mean, some girls need all the help they can get, right?”
And just like that I don’t care what cross she is bearing.
“Oh, will you look at that, you need a pedicure,” she says as she slips the shoes onto my feet.
Yep, she could fall into a big tub of I don’t give a fuck and sink right to the bottom with that big ole cross attached to her, and I wouldn’t care.
And while we’re at it, the benefit of the doubt can go to hell too.
I’m ready to punch her into next week.
But suddenly the clouds part, and bright biblical rays shoot down from heaven, and Anastacia and all her nastiness just slips away when I look down to see the Betty Saville masterpieces on my feet.
The shoes are perfect. Pointed toe. Four inch heels. Crusted in Swarovski crystals in an ombre pattern of red to gold. Not only do they glitter like a hundred little suns, but they’re comfortable to walk in, too.
Wearing them is like slipping back into my old life for a few minutes and remembering how lucky I was to wear couture footwear back then. Its bittersweet. My life was rich and opulent and I didn’t even realize how fortunate I was.
Anastacia is forgotten as I walk over to the full length mirror and study them from every angle. I want to cry, they look so good.
When I glance over to Massimo, I see he’s watching me with a strange expression on his face. It’s not a scowl, or a smile, or even pensive. It’s… regret?
I glance back at the reflection in the mirror and again feel that flutter of appreciation for the shoes, but when I turn back to Massimo he has resumed his usual stony-faced expression.
“I’ll take them.”
I return to the chaise lounge to take them off.
“It must really kill you to do this,” I say, as I hand them to Anastacia.
“Not really. You’ll leave with the shoes, but we’ll still laugh about this when you’re gone. Poor little rich girl with more money than class.” She gives me a smug smile, then leans forward and whispers, “Only this time I’ll get a big fat commission.” She stands and plants the phoniest of phony smiles on her face and says, “Let me pop those in a bag for you.”
Emotion burns through me like a firestorm as I watch her saunter off to get a Bentley’s bag.
George comes over, looking none the wiser. “How did we go? Did you find what you are looking for?”
I shake off Anastacia’s ectoplasm, determined to show George my appreciation and to shield him from the fact that he has Satan working for him.
“Yes,” I say with a grin. “I found the perfect pair of shoes. I’m very grateful, thank you.”
His smile broadens. “Well, looking after our very special clients is important to everyone at Bentley’s.”
Not everyone.
Speak of the devil. Anastacia returns with a big Bentley’s bag containing my new shoes. She hands them over, the fake smile still plastered on her face.
Massimo joins us, and I turn back to George. “I am so grateful for what you’ve done for me today. And I just had the most wonderful discussion with Anastacia who felt terrible about the misunderstanding yesterday. And because of it, she’s decided to donate the entire commission she earned today to the Christmas for the Children charity here in New York City. Every single dime of it.”
I grin triumphantly. While Anastacia’s smile slips right off her heavily made up face.
“That’s the Bentley spirit,” George says to Anastacia, impressed.
She won’t be able to back out now without looking bad.
I feel Massimo’s curious gaze on me. But I don’t look at him. Instead, I mentally do the sum in my head. I know for a fact Bentley’s pays its sales assistants a twenty-five percent commission. The shoes are five thousand dollars. I smile to myself. The Christmas for the Children charity coffers are going to swell by twelve hundred dollars thanks to Anastacia’s generosity.
I’ll make sure of it.
I wink at her and she almost explodes trying to keep that tight smile on her face.
After saying goodbye to George, Massimo takes my arm and leads me outside. “So much for behaving.”
“I underestimated how much effort that would require,” I reply as we walk toward the car.
“Want to tell me what that was all about?”
