The VIP Room(153)

I only manage a quarter of the bagel before I give up to racing nerves. At least the coffee goes down smoothly.



* * *



Blake's assistant, Ashleigh, a pretty girl in a designer outfit, guides us through an exclusive department store. She piles her arms with all sorts of expensive things I would never wear and drags me into a fitting room.

Blake waits outside, ready to approve or deny the outfits.

It starts with underwear. She measures me for a bra and brings a dozen in my size. Mostly sexy, lacy things. Thankfully, she offers no commentary other than how well they fit.

Then it's cocktail dresses. The first is backless and black. The fabric is smooth and luscious against my skin. It even feels like it costs a fortune. Ashleigh takes a long look at me. She cocks her head to the side like she's just not sure.

She steps into the main area. "Blake. Your opinion."

Ashleigh parades me in front of Blake like I'm a show pony.

His eyes dart to my exposed back. The dress stops right above my ass. Impossible to wear a bra. Likely, any panties would show through too.

"Too much. Fiona would have a field day."

Ashleigh giggles. "Your sister will have a field day if I put her in a burlap sack."

Blake says nothing. He doesn't have to. He motions for us to go back to the dressing room, and Ashleigh complies.

She offers me an apologetic look. "Mr. Sterling is very specific."

I lower my voice to a whisper so he won't hear. "Has he done this before? With other women?"

Ashleigh offers that customer service smile. "Not many." She undresses me and puts me in a nude bra and thong, a matching set. "He liked the outfit."

"How can you tell?"

"I've known him a while."

I study her reaction. No signs she's harboring feelings for Blake. Not that it matters much to me.

She helps me into the next dress--powder pink chiffon, knee length, fitted, low cut but not obscenely so. She points to a pair of strappy silver sandals.

Blake takes in everything with that same inscrutable expression on his face. He nods his approval. That's it. A nod. I'm trotted out like a show pony, and all he does is nod.

What the hell?

Ashleigh smiles. "I told you I'd find something."

"That's one dress. We'll need at least five."

She shakes her head. "Anyone ever tell you to celebrate the small victories in life? Huh?"

His eyes narrow. Somehow, Ashleigh knows what this means. She trots me back to the dressing room for another outfit. New bra. Strapless this time. She pulls a heavy satin dress over my head. It's white with a sweetheart neckline. It looks more like a wedding dress than something I would wear out for dinner and drinks.

Still, she trots me out again. Blake takes one second and shakes his head. He raises his eyebrow as if to say are you f*cking kidding me?

Ashleigh shrugs. "You're impossible, you know."

We repeat with another dozen cocktail dresses. Blake approves three. Then it's "casual wear." Supposedly for running around town, being seen walking around the park together. It's all designer jeans, trendy blouses, tight sweater dresses.

I'm exhausted and cranky. I should have eaten the entire bagel instead of three bites. And I absolutely should have demanded a second cup of coffee.

Deep breath. I only need to stay calm and composed through the gowns. Then I can go home and collapse.

This is nothing compared to working a double shift on a crowded day. I should be able to handle trying on some clothes and twirling around like I'm on display.

Ashleigh trots me out again. Blake nods. She plays with my accessories--a different necklace, different shoes. She rearranges me, poses me, pinches my stomach and mutters something about Spanx.

When it's time to return to the fitting room, I snap. "I can take it off myself."

Ashleigh sends Blake a look. I know that look. Difficult customer.

He nods to her. "Take thirty minutes."

"We're on a strict time line, Mr. Sterling. The salon is expecting us-"

"Now."

Ashleigh pouts, but she does as she's asked. Blake seems to have that effect on people. He presses his hand against the small of my back and walks me into the fitting room.

The entire area is reserved. We're the only people here. Suddenly, the open space feels so small. Blake is close enough to touch me properly.

He turns me around, so I'm facing the dressing room's mirror. I watch the reflection as he unzips my gown. It slides it off my shoulders and falls to the floor. There I am, nearly naked, and he's fully dressed. So much like before.

I step out of the dress, plant my ass on the little seat in the corner, and watch as he hangs the dress on the door. No idea what his expression means. It could be he's irritated by my complaints or that he's excited and about to f*ck me.

God, please let it be the latter.

I reach for something to adjust. Not many choices in my underwear. I fix my bra straps.

He's staring at me with that same unreadable expression.

"I'm not a doll, you know," I say.

"Appearances are important to some people."

"Like your sister? Is she the one you're trying to impress?"

"Everyone needs to believe we're madly in love."