Her Secret Lover (Aphrodite's Club 2)

Antoinette shopped in London when she could, but most of her clothes were made by a seamstress in the village. She was happy with the arrangement, but Aphrodite was unimpressed by such provincial ways.

“A woman of your looks, Antoinette, should have only the best fabrics and styles.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Antoinette said, bewildered.

“You will see,” the courtesan promised.

Elena was a little woman with a stern face and gray hair. “Yes, you are right, as always, Aphrodite,” she said, ignoring Antoinette for the moment. “We will dress her in the white gown.”

It was spoken so reverently, as if in capital letters. The White Gown.

“I don’t understand.” Antoinette looked between the two of them. She had the suddenly frightening thought that if she allowed them to dress her and change her, then she would be entering a glittering sensual world, a dangerous world, and there could be no going back. Nothing would ever be the same again.

As if she’d read her mind, Aphrodite touched her cheek and smiled. “Come, what can it hurt? It is one night, that is all. Indulge me, please. After, you can go back to your little house in the countryside.”

“Do you always get your own way, Madame?” Antoinette asked wryly.

“Always!”

That was when Elena produced the white gown, and Antoinette understood their reverence.

Of the finest silk, it was low-cut at the bodice, tight at the waist, and flared out into soft folds and flounces over the hips. It was a dress for a fairy tale, and fairy tales frightened Antoinette.

She backed away. “No, really, I can’t wear something like that. I—I would feel too—too exposed…”

“Psht, my dear. We are your friends. Why should you not show yourself off a

little? I promise you will look beautiful. Gabriel will be speechless.”

Gabriel, the one name she’d sworn not to think of. She opened her mouth again to refuse, but instead found herself reaching out to touch the white gown with her fingertips. So soft, so smooth, so beautiful. It glowed like moonlight. What would he think of her in such a dress? Would he regret, even for a moment, that he had let her go so easily?

“Try it on,” Elena tempted her, “and if you don’t like it you need not wear it.”

Antoinette didn’t remember saying yes, but the next moment her clothing was being removed from her despite her protests and the white gown was drawn carefully over her head. The miles and miles of silk floated about her, slipping into place with such breathtaking ease that it was as if the dress had been made for her and her alone.

At last the two women stood back to inspect her, and their faces lit up with smiles. “Perfect,” Aphrodite said. “Absolutely perfect.”

“This is too generous of you, Madame. I can’t—”

“Nonsense. I am bored and this is a diversion.”

“Aphrodite, let the child look at herself,” Elena scolded, and, taking Antoinette’s hand, led her toward the end of the room, where a standing mirror had been turned to the wall. Elena pivoted it toward them with a flourish, and suddenly there Antoinette was, reflected and revealed.

She didn’t think it was another woman; she wasn’t that simple. It was definitely Antoinette Dupre. But it was the new Antoinette, the one she had heard in her head but had never actually seen before in the flesh. The silk clung to her curves, draped low on her rounded bosom, and complimented her little waist, before caressing the flare of her hips. And with so many folds and gathers, the silk, fine as it was, was not transparent.

Well, not quite. There was a flash here and there of naked flesh, but Antoinette hoped no one would notice in the dimly lit salon.

The two older women began to remove the pins from her hair, arranging it loosely about her shoulders. “There, you see,” Elena murmured. “The natural look suits you. A wreath of flowers, perhaps. You are the goddess of the woods, Miss Dupre.”

Nothing could have been better designed to win her over. Antoinette met the women’s eyes in the mirror, and suddenly she knew this was what she wanted to do. She had changed, only she’d been afraid to acknowledge it until now. Gabriel and the events of her recent past had altered her and molded her, and the dress was the symbol of that change. She must wear it, just once, and Gabriel must see her in it.

“Enjoy yourself,” Aphrodite murmured, as if she read her mind, and smiled. “I wish you well, my dear.”

Gabriel stood in the famous salon and looked about him. The room was dazzling, with candles reflected in endless mirrors and elegant furnishings placed about the room; no doubt in normal circumstances it would have been occupied by elegant guests. A table held food, hot and cold succulent treats, while champagne was chilling on ice and waiting in sparkling glasses.

Gabriel took a sip of the champagne and surveyed the food. He was hungry, and if Antoinette didn’t join him soon, he’d have to start without her. His heart sank. Perhaps she wouldn’t come. Perhaps after all she’d been through she preferred to stay away…

At that moment the doors opened behind him. He turned, the champagne glass in his hand, and beheld an ethereal vision of sensual beauty.