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“Oh my god, he’ssosweet,” Rumi says, clutching her chest.
Sweet, my ass.
But the driver seems to be genuine, so without further interrogation, I head to the bedroom to change into whatever Silvan sent for me.
Unless I hate it, of course. Then I will change into something of my own.
I still think it’s a little odd that he sent me a dress if he doesn’t plan to see me in it. When I unzip the garment bag, I find a soft cashmere wrap dress inside. It feels so nice when I run my fingers across the silky fabric. I’m definitely wearing this.
I grab my cosmetic bag and make quick work of brushing on some mascara and a coat of lip gloss, then look myself over in the mirror on the closet door. The dress is very comfortable, but the soft white fabric clings to my curves and—I have to admit—looks really good on me.
I grab a little cream-colored purse from my corner of the closet and slip on a pair of nude-tone flats.
My coat is definitely not appropriately classy to match the cashmere dress he sent over, but it’s the only one I have, so I pull it on anyway.
My roommates play up their jealousy as I leave. Well, everyone but Kendra, who watches wordlessly like she has something to say, but she never says it.
Once the door closes behind me, I ask the man in the chauffeur’s getup, “What’s your name?”
“You can call me Hugh.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Hugh. I’m Sophie.”
He cracks a smile beneath his mustache. “Yes, I know.”
“Right.”
Despite his casual and friendly demeanor, Hugh’s body is stiff as he stands in front of the elevator watching the numbers tick by. The doors open, and he gestures for me to step into the empty elevator first.
Once we’re inside, he presses the button to close the doors.
I peek over at him. “So, you work for Silvan?”
“His family, yes.”
A moment later, the elevator doors open, and we step out into the quiet of the lobby. He guides me to the front door and opens it for me so I can step out onto the sidewalk.
I’m stunned when I see a long black limousine parked in front of the building. Even though rationally I know it must be what he’s driving, I’m still floored when he approaches it and opens the back door for me.
My gaze flickers to his face, my jaw practically on the floor. “This is just for me?”
He smiles faintly. “He wanted you to be comfortable.”
“Wow,” I say softly as I step toward the car.
I’ve never been in a limousine before. When I was in fifth grade, my school had a fundraiser and the four kids who sold the most got to ride in a limo with one of their parents. It was close to Mother’s Day, and I so desperately wanted to win it so I could take Mom. I spent every day after school going door-to-door with my fundraising flyer and my biggest smile. I made it into that top four, and I was so excited.
Then when the day came for our limo ride, I had the flu so we couldn’t go.
I duck my head and climb inside, pulling my dress in behind me and scooting over a bit so I’m not right by the door.
It’s so spacious, with soft leather upholstery and a small bar running along the side. A flat-screen TV is mounted above the bar, and the driver already has a glass of champagne waiting for me.
Ducking down, Hugh tells me, “I’ve poured the first glass for you, but help yourself if you’d like more. The bottle is chilling right down there.”
I think about telling him I’m not old enough to drink, but I’ve never had champagne before, and I suppose one glass couldn’t hurt. “Thank you,” I say instead.
Hugh closes the door and walks around to the driver’s side. As soon as he gets in, he looks back and asks, “Would you like the privacy divider up, Miss Bradwell?”
