A Price Worth Paying(19)
Her colleague returned a few moments later, her arms laden with four exquisite gowns in rich colours that she hung side by side on a rail to compare. ‘What do you think of these?’
They were all different in style, cut and colour, from strapless to asymmetrical to one-shouldered; from lilac to silver to fiery red, but with one thing in common—they were all exquisite.
‘Stunning,’ she said, overwhelmed by the detail of each of the gowns, whether in the beading or skilful pleating or the soft feminine drape of the skirt, finding it hard to believe that she might soon actually possess anything so beautiful—but, more than that, have an occasion to wear it.
‘What about that one?’ Alesander said behind her, but when she turned to see which one he meant, he was looking elsewhere, towards an aqua-coloured gown hanging by itself to one side. It was strapless with a pleated bodice, fitted through the body to the hip, where it finished emphatically in a ruffled skirt split high up one thigh. It was dramatic and sexy and seemed to convey the very essence of Spain, understated and yet over the top at the same time. And undeniably the most beautiful dress she’d ever seen.
Ordinarily her eyes would have already bypassed it, knowing there was no point giving it a second glance, knowing there was no way she could afford to even look at it, but these were no ordinary times and besides, she heard him say, ‘It would go with your eyes.’
And she shivered and looked back at him uncertainly. When had he noticed the colour of her eyes?
The women descended again into rapid Spanish, to which Alesander simply responded, ‘Who?’ And when they answered, he smiled and issued a series of instructions to the women and finished with one to her. ‘Try it on,’ he said.
Heels were produced, and accessories and one woman zipped her into the dress while the other turned her ponytail into a messy knot that looked halfway to evening glam and when she was finally dressed she stared at the result in the mirror. My God, was that really her? Apart from being a little long, the gown fitted her as if it had been made for her, but instead of it emphasising how much weight she had lost in the last few months, like her other clothes did now they were too big, the fact this gown hugged her curves seemed to make the most of them.
‘I love it,’ she said, wondering at a dress that had the power to transform her from discount department store cheap to designer chic.
‘The hem can be altered,’ Alondra said. ‘That is no problem.’
‘And this before make-up and jewellery,’ the other clucked, beaming her delight. ‘You must show your boyfriend.’
She almost denied it. Almost said that Alesander wasn’t her boyfriend, but stopped herself short. Because he kind of was now, even if it was only make-believe.
He was on the phone when she stepped from the dressing room, his back to her and she said nothing, not wanting to disturb him, but he must have heard something because after a few seconds he stilled and, still talking into his phone, he turned, only for the torrent of words to stop as his dark eyes drank her in. And then he said something short, punched a button to punctuate the call and pocketed the phone.
She smiled nervously, wanting him to like what he saw, if only to show him that she could pull this off. She didn’t care what he thought about her, but she did want him to be confident that she could carry off her side of the bargain before they signed the paperwork linking them together. ‘What do you think? Will it do for the party?’
It seemed to take an eternity for him to answer, an eternity that had her wondering if he was regretting this deal because she would never be up to the task. ‘Sí,’ he said dispassionately at last, ‘it will do. And now you will have to excuse me for an hour or so. I have a meeting that will not wait. The señoritas have instructions to find you a range of outfits for day and evening and I will leave you in their clearly capable hands.’ And with that he was gone.
She clamped down on a bubble of disappointment as she returned to the changing room, the women eagerly rushing around to gather up more garments for her to try on. Alesander approved of the dress. That should be enough. That was enough. There was no reason to be disappointed with his reaction.
On the other hand, there was plenty of justification for the resentment that simmered and bubbled away inside her.
Because she’d come here looking for a dress and she’d found one and now he calmly instructed her to find a ‘range of outfits’. Clearly he didn’t think her existing wardrobe lived up to the necessary Esquivel standards in order to convince the world they were an item. And yes, she understood that the world he inhabited was located somewhere high in the dizzy stratosphere compared to her own, but it still rankled to be so constantly reminded of that fact. It rankled even more to be given instructions without discussion, as if her opinion was not worth either hearing or seeking. After all, they were supposed to be in this together.