CHAPTER 1
I swiped a finger across my iPhone one last time and looked at the piece of art lit up on the screen. Even in the picture I’d snapped before leaving the store, the dress glowed with thousands of tiny, gold sequins. Its beauty was indescribable. Epic. To die for. Giving up my spring break would be worth it. Yes, it was far too lavish and perfect for a fraternity spring formal, but I didn’t care. I had something to prove.
The elevator dinged at the top floor of Brittany Industries. My heart thumped once as the doors slid open to reveal a sprawling office that looked as though it were regularly scrubbed with bleach. This was only temporary, but my palms were clammy regardless. It would be my first real job. These paychecks wouldn’t be signed by my parents’ neighbors with a smiley face as I balanced their four-year-old against my hip.
Each step farther into the office came with a deep inhalation. In reality, I had nothing to worry about—my new boss, Dean Brittany, was an old family friend. He’d watched me grow up. If my dad had such a thing as a best friend, he would be it.
Directly off the elevator was a platinum-haired receptionist with a low-cut blouse. “June” according to her nameplate. She pointed me in the direction of Dean’s office. I passed an empty desk just outside his door, which I assumed would be mine, and knocked lightly. When there was no response, I knocked again.
“Come in.”
The sunny, downtown Los Angeles skyline brightened an expansive office. Dean was on the phone, his seat angled toward the view so I could only see his profile. He checked his watch and, still staring out the window, motioned for me to sit. I perched on the edge of a chair in front of his desk. He didn’t glance at me once as he spoke into the phone. I, on the other hand, had nowhere to look but at him. Since I’d last seen him, his hair had shaded from black to charcoal.
As he listened, his thick eyebrows furrowed until one shot up. “Next month?” he asked. “That’ll drive up the cost by thousands. What makes you think I have that to spare?” He paused again, staring out at the skyscrapers. “I’ll give you until the end of next week. If it’s not finished by then, you can spendnextmonthlooking for a new job.”
He reached out and dropped the receiver without looking, but it landed directly in its cradle.
After a few moments of silence, I spoke. “Dean?”
His leather chair squeaked when he turned to me. “Alexandra James.”
His deep voice rolled over my long, mouthful-of-a-name. My friends and family always shortened it to Alex, and it tied my tongue to hear him say it that way—as if it were some risqué inside joke between us. I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
He stood and came around the desk toward me. In his sharp, navy suit, he wasn’t a family friend who used to come over for golf. He wasn’t Vivian’s dad, the girl I was sometimes forced to play with during dinner parties. The way he leaned in and straightened his jacket before settling against the edge of his desk was almost threatening.
“How long has it been?” he asked. My eyes jumped to meet his.ThoseI remembered—his bottomless eyes. Their deep, dark blue was how I imagined the bottom of the ocean.
“A few years,” I said, but it came out like a question.
“Five.”
“Oh. Already?”
“That’s when I moved to Los Angeles full time. I suppose it’s been that long since I’ve seen you and your mother. How are you liking USC?”
“It’s fun,” was all I could think to say. I dried my palms against my pants. This was the same Dean I’d grown up around, but my stomach hadn’t been this knotted since my first day of classes.
“Good,” he said. “I appreciate you doing me this favor. I’m sure this isn’t how you imagined spending your first spring break.”
“I don’t mind,” I said. “You’re actually doingmethe favor. I need the extra cash.”
“That so?” he asked, shifting against the desk. His knee ghosted against mine, and I jumped a little.
He looked at me expectantly, so I kept talking. “There’s this dress…”
He chuckled. “There’s always a dress. You sound like Vivian.”
“I’ve been invited to a fraternity formal.”
Dean glanced at my hands as I played with the fabric of my pants. I stopped immediately. He still didn’t speak.
“It’s next weekend,” I continued, “and I need a dress for it.”
“Won’t Gary buy it for you?”
“Normally, yes. But Dad said this one was too much. I believe the word he used wasastronomical.”
He nodded knowingly. “How much is it?”
