“She’s quite something,” Anatoly commented as we watched them disappear into the bridal section. “Not your usual type.”
“And what would my usual type be?” I asked, curious despite myself.
“Models, actresses, socialites.” He shrugged. “Women who... complement your status rather than challenge it. The kind I’ve seen you with in the tabloids or on social media.”
Before I could respond to that loaded observation, Paul announced he’d finished the measurements. “Excellent work,” I said, grateful for the interruption. “Now, how long does it typically take to try on a wedding dress?”
“Depends on the woman,” Anatoly replied. “Some try twenty before finding the right one. Others know immediately.”
“Ms. Marcel strikes me as the efficient type,” Paul said, standing up.
“I agree. Though even the most practical women sometimes surprise themselves when they see their reflection in a wedding gown.” Anatoly gave me a knowing look. “It can be quite transformative.”
I rolled my eyes at the sentimentality. “It’s just a dress.”
“Just a dress?” Anatoly looked genuinely offended. “Mr. Burkhardt, a wedding gown is a statement of?—”
“Mr. Burkhardt?” Christina called from the archway. “We’re ready for your reaction.”
“My reaction?” I turned, confused.
“It’s tradition,” she explained. “Well, normally it’s friends and family of the bride, but since you’re here, and she said she didn’t mind if you saw, we’ll consider it the groom’s first glimpse.”
“Sure, I guess that sounds—” I began, but stopped mid-sentence as Anica stepped into view.
Holy. Shit.
The dress was simple. A sleek, off-shoulder design in ivory silk that followed the curves of her body before flaring subtly at the knees. No excessive beading or lace, just perfect tailoring and a small train that pooled behind her. Her hair was still in its ponytail, her makeup unchanged, but something about seeing Anica Marcel in a wedding dress had my knees forgetting that they were essential to remaining standing. I nearly tripped off the pedestal, and didn’t face plant only because Anatoly caught me by the elbow.
She was stunning. Not in the obvious way of the models and actresses Anatoly had mentioned, but in a way that made it impossible to look anywhere else. The professional armorwas gone, replaced by something softer yet somehow more powerful. The silk clung to the curve of her waist, highlighting the feminine figure I’d dreamt about almost every night since meeting her. The neckline revealed collarbones delicate enough to make my fingers itch to trace them, followed by my tongue.
I realized I was staring. Worse, I realized I couldn’t stop.
“Well?” she prompted, a hint of vulnerability breaking through her composed expression. “Is it ridiculous enough for you? Can we move on to lunch now?”
Words failed me, which was not a common occurrence. I, who made my fortune with persuasive pitches and quick comebacks, stood there like an idiot, trying to remember how to form a coherent sentence.
“I think we’ve rendered Mr. Burkhardt speechless,” Christina said with obvious satisfaction. “I always love seeing couples have that reaction!”
Her comment broke the spell. “We’re not—” Anica started.
“It’s perfect,” I interrupted, finding my voice at last. “You look... incredible.”
A flush crept up her neck, and for once, she seemed at a loss for words too.
“The silhouette is perfect for her figure,” Christina continued, oblivious to the tension. “And the simplicity allows her natural beauty to shine through.”
“Yes,” I agreed, still unable to tear my gaze away from Anica. “Exactly that.”
“Perhaps we should discuss veil options?” Christina suggested. “I’m thinking something cathedral length to complement the train.”
“No veils,” Anica said firmly, recovering her composure. “No accessories. This was just for... demonstration purposes.”
“But surely for your actual wedding?—”
“We haven’t set a date yet,” I improvised. “Still in the early planning stages.”
“Ah, I see.” Christina nodded. “Well, let me get your information for our file. We can hold this gown for you. It’s from our new collection, not even on the floor yet.”
