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She thinks I’m Hadrion’s wife. Or girlfriend, maybe.
“This is the lovely lady that I was telling you about, Mrs. Summerland,” he says, and his voice is so smooth, so warm, and rich, that it makes my stomach tighten and this situation is quickly spiraling out of my comfort zone. “We’re here for the gown she’ll be wearing tonight, and her other things.”
“Of course. It would be my pleasure to help her. Follow me, please.” Mrs. Summerland has a soft accent that I can’t place, her vowels rounded and smooth. She leads us deeper into the depths of the store, and the clothing becomes more and more exclusive. My cheeks heat and I can’t imagine that I’ll ever fit in here.
I can’t believe that I’m the girl being shown to the VIP area. I can’t believe the owner of this whole store is the one seeing to what we need.
“You’ll enjoy this, I think,” Hadrion says to me quietly, “and I’ll be able to relax, because I can guarantee you while there aredogs here, there are absolutely no strays for you to go chasing down.”
I choke back a laugh, because this doesn’t seem like the place you’re supposed to laugh in, not when I’m surrounded by silken dresses that look like they’ve stepped out of some fairytale, beads and crystals pouring down sleeves.
“I pulled a few things already, something in red, of course, your signature color, Mr. Mortaine, but now that I see her,” Mrs. Summerland turns to look at me as we step into the middle of a display area, low white linen couches and woolen knit sitting pouffes scattered around. “I think I may have to change my mind.”
“My preferences are already known to you. You understand my clientele,” he says to her, with elegantly arched eyebrows and she smiles.
“Of course, but it is the work of art that determines the frame, and not the other way around,” she counters, and my gaze bounces between the two of them. It feels like they’re sparring, politely. “You trust me?”
“Implicitly.”
“Then let me work.” her words are clipped but her eyes are warm, and she gestures for me to follow her. “This way, Miss--“
“Katy,” I say and she pauses, giving me an arch look. “Harrow,” I add hastily. She glances from me to Hadrion.
“Of course it is, I would hope that your last name isn’t a foretelling of your introduction into Mr. Mortaine’s world,” she comments lightly, and I follow her into a back room, the archway between us and the rest of the store seeming to transport me intoanother world.
Out there things are elegant, polished wooden floors, mirrored pillars, linen and leather furnishings... but in here.
There is an explosion of color, like a mad florist has come in and decorated a whole changing area just for the joy of it. The floor is covered with thick, woven rugs, vines grow up painted pillars, flowering toward the ceiling and above us, and in the far end of the wall is an actual waterfall, descending to splash into a pool. When I peer closely, I see large, fat koi swimming lazily under the surface. Large mirrors make this room seem larger than it is, with more plants framing them.
It feels like endless summer in here, lilac branches dripping down the walls, and perfuming the air.
Behind us, there’s ashhhhshhhhhnoise behind me, and when I turn, another woman has come in, pulling a curtain across the arch to give us privacy.
I thought I was going into a changing room for multiple people, with little stalls, but I realize at the sight of a rack of dresses being pushed into the room from a small doorway,thisis the change room.
And it’s all for me.
“Here we are,” Mrs. Summerland says, her hands sweeping over the clothes. “You can see we’ve brought in several gowns, in your size, and then some. Mr. Mortaine has always been quite exacting, but I have a feeling about you. I think you will be his greatest challenge yet.”
“Yet?” Her words wash over me, confusing me, as the assistant, a no-nonsense woman about my age, comes to me and bendsdown.
“Your boots, Miss,” she offers, helping me pull them off, and in another moment she’s back, with a low wooden clothes horse on wheels. “For your clothes, Miss.” My cheeks warm, as I realize that these two women are expecting me to just... get undressed here.
“There’s no need for that,” Mrs. Summerland says, waving off her assistant. “Underthings, immediately. Something low-cut, no straps. She’s curvy, but we can work with that.” Her words all have a warm kindness to them, like she’s talking about a painting and not a woman, and I’m grateful for the lack of personal attention.
The assistant moves around, first bringing me a robe, before opening a chest of drawers, and pulls out a few items, offering them to me. I guess... I’m getting naked. These two women are much more svelte than me, and I can’t help but feel the creep of my blush down my neck. Mrs. Summerland sighs, and then walks over to a curtain along one of the walls, and pulls it back, revealing a change room.
“Your comfort, of course, before all else,” she says to me, and I scoot into the small changing space, more flowers gracing the walls in here. When the curtain is pulled shut, and underthings offered to me from behind it, the assistant’s smooth, pale arm the only thing to rifle the hanging fabric, I take them and get undressed.
Slowly my body is revealed under the diffused light in here, shadows crawling along my curves, making them seem sleek and sinuous, and not chunky like I normally feel.
I slide on a pair of red lace underwear, and a matching strapless long-line bra. I hear voices, Mrs. Summerland and her assistant, talking beyond the curtain.
“Are you quite comfortable?” Mrs. Summerland asks, as I turn to look at myself, naked except for these new things that seem to grace my body like they were made for it. I breathe out and nod before realizing she can’t see me.
“Oh, uh, yes--“
The curtain is swept aside, and immediately the assistant pounces on me.
