“Yes?” I answer her finally.
“I have the gowns your mother ordered for the ball. She wanted you to try them on and see which one you like the most.”
“Do I have to go?” I mumble so low that I know she can’t hear me.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Thomas? I didn’t catch that,” she says.
I turn around and give her the best, genuine smile I can. “I said, well, let’s go, then!”
She reflects my grin, and she has adorable dimples on either side of her cheeks, giving her a young, innocent appearance. “Excellent.” She swings the French doors open as wide as the hinges allow and three carts of gowns are rolled into my room. All the stylists are women and drop dead gorgeous.
I bet Asher would like them.
They all have blonde hair tied into a high ponytail with long extensions. They are dressed in black pantsuits and stand on the right side of the cart, waiting for me to pick through the gowns. The blonde woman with cropped hair closes the doors and I sit on the bed, staring at the luxurious gowns. How the hell am I supposed to choose? There are too many. I don’t know. Hand me a black dress and let’s call it a day.
I couldn’t care less about this right now, but the Ball is tonight.
The first woman pulls out a few options for me. An emerald green dress, a navy blue, and a purple, but they are very ‘prom’ looking and I couldn’t stand my prom. “Do you have anything more elegant and less teenager? Sorry if that’s insulting,” I say, not wanting to get a hanger thrown at me for my honesty.
“Of course, one moment.” She must be in charge because she catwalks to the last wrack with her long legs and stiletto heels. She pulls out a beautiful red and black gown. It has material of silk and a small train flowing in the back. The neckline is what I love. The lapels surrounding the breasts fan out in a beautiful bright cherry red then there is a black silk wrap that ties right underneath the cups.
It’s beautiful, striking, and intense.
The dress is almost rebellious which is exactly what I feel on the inside.
“I would love to try that on. You’re good,” I praise her and stand, wanting to get a closer look at the material.
“Well, it’s why I always bring options to my clients. Everyone’s taste is different,” she informs me, holding out the gown to me to examine.
I can imagine being wrapped up in Asher’s arms in the middle of the ballroom floor, dancing to some stupid string quartet, but I bet I’d feel like I was dancing in the galaxy with how weightless he would make me feel.
Empowerment surges in my veins as I slide my finger along the neckline. It won’t show my cleavage, which I like. I don’t want anyone to see my body.
Unless it’s Asher.
He’s the only one I can trust not to take advantage. He’s already proven that to me once when he took me out of the shower, naked, dripping wet, and he even tossed a towel over me.
“Ms. Thomas, are you okay?” the runway model asks.
“Sorry, I got lost in thought. Can I please try this on?”
She beams, showing straight white teeth that are perfect just like the rest of her.
Must be nice.
“Matilda, Ariel, stay with me. Everyone else, please leave,” she orders and like good little foot soldiers, they exit in a single file line like robots.
Well, they are trained, I’ll give her that.
I don’t know which one is Matilda or Ariel since they both look so much alike. One slips off my shirt, and I was not ready for the quick move. I take a step back, my heart thumping, and the woman in charge holds up her hand, presses her lips in a firm line, and points to the door. “Matilda, out. I thought you could be trusted with the information I related to you about Ms. Thomas. Please, leave. Ariel and I can take it from here.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I forgot. I wasn’t thinking—”
“Clearly,” the stylist says, cold as ice.
Matilda hurries out the door, crying if I’m not mistaken, and I feel bad. Is she without a job?
“I apologize for her thoughtlessness. Ariel and I will give you our backs to get undressed. Next, please, slip on the silk slip. When you are ready, just tell us, and we will assist you with the gown.”