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“What’s the occasion?”
Sophie slid her gaze away from him. She called him after Carl had left and asked him to help her get ready for a night out, but she hadn’t given him any details. “I sort of agreed to go along with Henry’s scheme and he’s got a black tie event tonight. We’re going as a couple,” she said quickly, trying to soften the blow of the news.
Darren frowned. “Henry as in ‘we’re going to stick it to Henry Medina’?”
“Yes?” She plopped onto the end of her bed. “I didn’t have any other choice. Trust me, I considered all of my options. If I don’t do something fast the business is done and my second career is over. I don’t think I can handle that again.”
He sat down beside her and took her hand. “Just be careful, Soph. He might have some ulterior motive in all of this.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she assured him with a watery grin. “I am not in the least bit interested in pursuing anything with him. I’m only doing this to save the studio, my reputation, and both our jobs.”
“So you’re not worried about getting caught in the crossfire again?”
“Once I clear my name I won’t be seeing him anymore. Look, tonight isn’t about him, Dar. It’s about me.”
He narrowed his eyes in consideration before patting her hand and popping to his feet. “In that case, we need to make you look as hot as possible for your final tabloid appearance! ”
Sophie laughed as he began rummaging through her closet. Almost immediately, he snagged a golden yellow dress scattered with glittering rhinestones and thrust it at her. The skirt was floor length, but slit up the center to allow for ease of movement when dancing tango. She pulled off her workout attire and shimmied into the tight dress, turning to look at herself in the mirror.
“No,” Sophie said as soon as she realized that the dress bared her knee. She could see that low back flattered her figure and the yellow hue made her skin glow, but no matter how good she looked otherwise, her mangled knee was the first thing anyone’s eyes would be drawn to.
Darren sighed. He turned to the closet and studied the remaining dresses. Embarrassment and anger burned in the back of Sophie’s throat. Damn Henry Medina for putting her in this position!
Darren pulled out a cherry red silk dress and held it up. It was strapless, tight as a glove until mid thigh, where it flared out in a fall of black feathers. She’d never danced in it, but she had attended several functions with Christian in the sexy gown. It pushed her breasts up, giving her about a mile of cleavage. Sophie’s heart thumped at the prospect. She shook her head.
He sighed. “What’s wrong with this one?”
Sophie crumpled back onto the bed, tugging the yellow satin over her disfigured knee. “The same thing that’s wrong with all the others,” she whispered, eyes downcast. Still, she didn’t miss Darren’s crossed arms or cocked eyebrow.
“And what’s that?”
“Me. I can’t do this, Dar. I was crazy to agree to it. This event is going to be sophisticated, and I’m just...” she motioned vaguely at the bright red gown he still held, “not.” Tears pricked her eyes.
Darren lay the dress on the edge of her bed and knelt in front of her. “Soph, you’re one of the best dancers the world has ever seen, and now you’re a successful business owner. These people should be thankful that you’re attending their boring event. You’re going to put on a gorgeous dress, and take your gorgeous face to this ball and knock them all on their asses.”
“I am?” she sniffled.
“You are.” He nodded his head assuredly, ending any more discussion of Sophie’s shortcomings.
She gave him a wan smile. “Okay, but I really can’t wear any of this.”
He’d just opened his mouth to answer when a loud rap at her apartment door startled them both.
“Are we expecting any more company?” he asked.
“No.” She rose with a frown and walked slowly toward the apartment door, Darren following behind her.
Her spine went stiff as she pulled the door open and looked up into the striking face of Henry Medina. “What are you doing here?” It was a stupid question, but she hadn’t been expecting him at her doorstep so soon. He was dressed in an impeccably tailored tuxedo, its cut accentuating his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and the long line of his well-muscled legs. His olive skin stood out lustrously against the starched white of his shirt. Mother-of-pearl cufflinks glinted at his wrists, and his shoes were polished to a high shine. There were bags under his eyes, apparently Carl hadn’t been lying.
He was here to pick her up, and she was still in the dress that bared her bad knee. She bit her lip to stave off the tears that she felt welling up as Henry extended a garment bag toward her. “I thought you might need something to wear.”
“I don’t need you to dress me,” she snapped.
“Would you just try it on please?”
She glanced down at the garment bag, fully aware that none of her own dresses were going to work. “Fine, no promises though.” She tugged the bag’s zipper down, revealing the shimmery gleam of silver. She gasped, but Darren’s gasp was louder.
“I think that’s Oscar de la Renta! You have to try it on,” Darren hissed.
