He shrugged, picking up another dress and holding it in front of me, like he was imagining me wearing it-or worse, taking it off.
“I’m trying to decide here…” he said loudly, clearly for my boss’s benefit, then lowered his voice to a whisper laced with wickedness. “Whether you look prettier when you’re mad… or when you’re coming.”
My entire body froze.
“Christian!” I hissed, my face burning hot.
He just gave me a devilish smile.
“Would be great to test it again. But in the meantime…” His eyes roamed over me slowly as he held the dress against me, tilting his head with that infuriatingly meticulous look of evaluation. “This one’s good, but something bolder suits you more, don’t you think?”
“Christian, do you actually want a dress, or did you just come here to ruin my life?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
He tilted his head, thoughtful.
“Both.”
Blood rushed to my head so fast everything turned red for a second.
“Now show me your favorite.”
My patience jumped right off the balcony.
“My what?”
“Your favorite dress.”
I blinked.
“You want to know my favorite dress?”
I grabbed an iconic Maison Deveraux design-one of the most exclusive, luxurious gowns in the shop-and ran my fingers down the flawless fabric, the silk gliding smooth against my skin. It was a dress made for royalty, the kind of piece any woman would dream of wearing as she walked down the aisle, glowing with glamour and sophistication.
And of course, it was ridiculously expensive.
I drew in a breath, lifted the gown, and looked at Christian, bracing myself for another one of his provocations.
He looked at me. Then at the dress.
And then he said the words that made my heart stop.
“I’ll take this one.”
I blinked, trying to process.
“Sorry… what?”
“I’ll take this dress.”
My stomach twisted with suspicion.
“For what?”
He arched a brow, as if my question was the dumbest thing he’d ever heard.
“For my fiancée.” He let the pause stretch, then added with a playful smile, “Or do you think people buy wedding dresses to go for a stroll in the park?”
My brain melted.
“You’re engaged?!”
Oh, shit. I’d slept with a taken man? A knot formed in my throat as guilt clawed through me.
“Of course I am. Don’t you remember? You’re my fiancée. And we’re getting married soon.”
Christian’s words echoed in my head like a cracked bell. My heart was racing, blood pounding so loud in my ears it almost drowned out the giggles from the salesgirls around us.
Me? His fiancée? In what parallel universe did that make sense?
Before I could react, my boss appeared at my side, grinning like she’d just sold the Mona Lisa.
“Zoey, what an amazing sale! You really are the best salesperson in the shop!”
My brain was still trying to catch up.
“Huh?”
“The dress! That was one of the most expensive gowns we’ve ever sold! And all thanks to you.” She winked and added brightly, “You can head out early today. You deserve it.”
As my boss walked away, I just stood there frozen, staring at Christian like he’d just told me he was an alien. How was a gigolo I’d hired for one night now buying the most expensive wedding dress in the shop and talking about marriage? And worse-how could he even afford it?
A chill ran down my spine. The word scam flashed in my mind like a neon sign. Was he some kind of criminal? Had I just helped someone commit fraud?
“What are you playing at?” I whispered once we stepped away from the counter.
He only smiled-that smile far too perfect to be honest.
“Let’s grab a coffee. I think we have a lot to talk about.”
He turned and started walking, as if it was obvious I’d follow. And against all rational logic, I did. Maybe because I needed answers, or maybe… maybe because some pathetic part of me wanted to stretch this fantasy out just a little longer.
We sat down in a charming café in downtown Solara, one of those places where the price of a single macaron could buy you an entire batch at a neighborhood bakery. The kind of place Alex used to take me when he wanted to “impress” me at the start of our relationship.
Christian ordered a double espresso. I asked for a cappuccino because I needed sugar and milk to balance out the stress. I was beyond confused.
Once the waitress walked away, I leaned across the table.
“Alright. Spill. How the hell can you afford a wedding dress that costs more than a brand-new car?”
Christian chuckled, lifting his cup to his lips.
“I’m very good at my job.”
The answer came with that teasing, double-edged tone of his.
I rolled my eyes but felt a knot twist in my stomach. Just how many women had he “worked” with to save up enough money for a gown like that? The image of him with other women bothered me more than it should have.
“Oh, please. I know you charge a lot for your nights, but that wasn’t a dress. That was a financial transaction big enough to feed a whole neighborhood for months.”
He smiled.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.