Ask Me (Mess with Me 2)

“What’s wrong with that dress?”

She looks stricken. “There’s no neckline. And it looks like it covers your ankles. I know I’ve been kind of a crap roommate but there is no way I can let you go out like this. We’re going shopping. I already texted Mya.”

It feels like I blink and I’m in a dressing room stall stripped down to my underwear. Mya and Ariana are outside arguing over whether or not I need stilettos. Clothes are strewn around the large space helter-skelter as if they were caught in a hurricane. Well, in a way they were.

Hurricane Ariana.

The woman is easily a category five when it comes to her powers of persuasion.

“I’m not sure how I got here. I think I just blacked out.”

Anya snickers behind me. “Famous last words.”

“Thanks for coming.” I texted Anya to meet us at the store once I realized that Ariana was serious.

Since it seemed I wasn’t going to be allowed to leave the apartment tomorrow night unless I had a dress that didn’t look like a sack, I figured I could use Anya’s expertise. She always looks amazing.

“Are you kidding? I’ll take any excuse to go shopping. Here try this one on.” She hands over another dress, this one a deep amethyst color. It’s the kind of thing I’d never pick out for myself but I’ve stopped inserting my opinions over the last hour. It’s pretty clear my taste isn’t working out so well.

The dress is tight so it takes a lot of work to get into it but once it’s on, it fits like a glove. When I turn to look at myself in the mirror, words get stuck in my throat.

All I can come up with is, “Wow.”

“You are gorgeous.” Anya claps her hands and then takes a bow. She blows imaginary kisses to herself in the full-length mirror. “Yes, I know I’m brilliant. She’s my greatest creation.”

“I can’t believe that’s me.”

I peer at the image in the mirror. Usually I avoid anything fitted because it makes me feel like every extra pound is magnified. But this dress makes those pounds look like they’re all in the right places. The fabric clings and flows around my hips, making me look like I have a perfect hourglass figure. I look seductive. Confident. All the things I’ve always hoped to be.

“Did you find one?” Ariana’s voice seems startlingly close to the dressing room door.

I hear Mya’s voice next. “Move back, you weirdo. She doesn’t need you eyeing her through the crack in the door like a stalker!”

I unlatch the dressing room door so they can come in.

“Damn, you look fierce.” Ariana nods approvingly.

The mirror reflects four women, completely diverse in appearance but all beautiful. Normally, I’m completely content to fly under the radar but it feels good to be seen. There’s no doubt in my mind that even I can command attention in a getup like this.

“This is a bold dress. Exactly what I need if I’m going to network with clients and make myself visible.” I wish Anya and I were alone so I could ask her thi

s next question but maybe it’s fate that Mya is here, too. After all, she’d know the answer better than anyone.

“So, do most of our current clients attend? If I have to deal with the client from hell again tomorrow night, let me know now.”

Mya scoffs. “Mr. Lavin? No, he never attends any of our events. To be fair, I don’t blame him. That’s a long way to travel just for a party.”

I glance over at Anya in confusion. “A long way to travel? What do you mean?”

Mya shrugs. “It’s got to be a nine hour flight, at least. Milan to D.C.”

“Milan?”

My confusion must be apparent because Mya stops fidgeting with her outfit in the mirror. “Yes. Mr. Lavin is Italian. Didn’t I mention that? He lives in Milan.”

It takes a lot of work to keep my face blank. “No, I don’t think you told me that.”

Anya shrugs. “It’s a good thing, right? You probably won’t see him for another six months, at least.”