Another cousin of ours, Andrea Ferraro Prescott, owns the company Ferraro Designs. She began experimenting beyond suits when it became clear the women needed clothes for other occasions. Emmanuelle and Mariko both volunteered to help with taking Andrea’s designs into the shadows, and they love them. I told Andrea you might be interested in helping her as well.
How could they possibly make this many dresses and pants in my size? We only announced our engagement yesterday.
She walked out of the makeshift dressing room toward him, smoothing her hand down the navy glitter tulle cocktail gown that was her favorite. It felt fun and flirty and reminded her of a few of her ballet costumes, so it felt familiar. The V neckline held by spaghetti straps wasn’t indecently low for her in the front, but the scooped back was daringly low. The fitted bodice was wrapped with fine ruched surplice and emphasized her small rib cage and waist. The knee-length A-line tulle skirt was very flirty, with flourishes and gathers, and she couldn’t help the extra sway she put into her step.
Geno didn’t say anything at first; he just looked at her, his eyes darkening with a look that sent little electrical charges flickering down her spine. She was utterly aware of him as a man. That made her aware of herself as a woman—so unlike her. She wasn’t a woman who flirted with men. But Geno... Everything was different with Geno. Geno made the world brighter.
He shook his head slowly. “You know I’m reading you right now, and it’s the other way around. You make my world so much better. I didn’t realize I even had a sense of humor until you came into it. You make me laugh. Everythingaround me feels filled with hope and a sense of peace. Even my house already feels like a home just because you’re here. I like sharing my space with you and having someone I can talk to.”
Amaranthe really did feel as if she’d woken up in the middle of a fairy tale. To cover the fluttery feeling she didn’t know what to do with, she spun in a slow circle to show him the sparkling dress with the low back.
“What do you think of this one for tonight? You said to expect quite a bit of press to be waiting for us.”
“I think it’s perfect. I have a navy suit that will match it.” He looked up at the woman helping her. “Andrea, do you have shoes designed to go with this dress yet?”
“I’m sorry, Geno, we’ve designed them on paper, but they’re not made up yet. I did bring a variety of heels for her to choose from that would go with the dress, but they aren’t made of special materials. The good news is, I’ll be able to leave the shoe drawings with you and the two of you can go over them and choose which ones you prefer for us to make up for you. Mariko and Emmanuelle often do ask us to do that. That way, they get exclusive designer shoes to go with their original gown.”
“Please don’t apologize, Andrea. You managed to come through for us on extraordinarily short notice. I have no idea how you did this, but I won’t forget it.”
Amaranthe knew he wouldn’t. He sounded and looked sincere, but more important, she felt that sincerity in his mind. He did appreciate that Andrea’s company had managed to ensure Amaranthe had clothing she could wear out with him, not feel inferiorly dressed, and yet still be able to make it safely into the shadows.
Geno had money. Not a little money. Lots of money. There was no getting around that. He was comfortable in places she would never consider going unless she stayed in the shadows while tracking a rogue. She didn’t have the clothes to be confident in his world and appreciated that he thought of that for her.
You know I can’t afford all these dresses, but I love this one. I really want it, Geno. I’ve got enough to buy this one for tonight.
Babe, really?“We’ll take everything she liked, Andrea.”
Don’t argue in front of her, Amara. Her business is just getting off the ground. Her crew stayed up all night altering the clothes for your size and you’re going to need all of those. We’re all trying to help her as much as she’ll let us.
Amaranthe bunched the sparkly tulle skirt in her fingers, trying to feel in his mind if he meant what he said or was trying to spare her embarrassment at not being able to pay such an exorbitant amount of money for clothes. She decided she would have to look at it as acquiring costumes. When she left a dance company, she didn’t keep her costumes. It didn’t matter how beautiful they were, they belonged to the company. She might just have to negotiate to keep this dress; that was how much she loved it.
“Thank you, Andrea,” Amaranthe said. “I love all the clothes, but this dress is my particular favorite. It makes me feel beautiful and confident.”
“You do look beautiful in it,” Andrea said.
“Youarebeautiful,” Geno said. “It doesn’t matter what you’re wearing. You’re simply beautiful, Amara, inside and out.” His voice was gruff.
Geno still wore his stone mask, but it didn’t matter because she saw beneath it to the heart of him. She would always be able to read him thanks to the way their shadows had tangled together. She doubted if it was safe to allow her shadow to get close to his again. The moment it happened, the two shadows connected like magnets. The more it happened, the harder it would be to separate them.
Although Amaranthe hadn’t grown up in a normal household, she had been warned to protect her shadow. She’d been told if her shadow was compromised and she couldn’t undo the weave, if one rider walked away from the other and both were riders, neither would be able to continue riding the shadows.
She was a shadow rider. That was her identity. Who she was. Her parents had begun her training at the age of two. Jean-Claude and the Archambaults had continued it from the time she was four. She knew no other life. She doubted she would survive if she couldn’t be a rider. Surely, Geno felt the same way.
She changed in the fitting room, mulling the question over. Did he? He had been so quick to take the poison from her, risking his life. He had known the consequences of ingesting the poison, and he’d still done it. There had been a quiet sorrow in him, an acceptance of death, as if he welcomed it. That bothered her. Geno had a huge family. She had none. No one. People weren’t meant to spend their entire lives alone.
Amaranthe had known there was a high probability that she would die young. Her profession was high risk. Investigating rogue riders without any backup drove the risks higher than ever. Most of the time when she was sent in, thankfully, it was a false alarm and the rider wasn’t guilty, but she had brought more than one to justice. It hadn’t been easy, and it had become automatic to protect her shadow. Because of that, she hadn’t believed she would find someone she would want to spend her life with.
Lunch was on the terrace of the second floor overlooking the sparkling water. Sunglasses were a must, but the view was impressive. She sat across the small table from Geno, still feeling like the princess in a fairy tale.
Geno had a way of focusing completely on her. Even with his eyes hidden behind sunglasses, she could feel the intensity of his gaze burning through her.
“Tell me about your dancing. Why you love it so much. I’ve taken over my mother’s position on the board, but I don’t know that much about ballet yet. I’ve been reading up on it, the difference between classical ballet and ballet. I didn’t even realize there was a difference. I thought all ballet was the same and the training was the same until I started reading about it. It’s very clear I’m going to have towatch videos and then the real thing. You’ll have to help me learn. I wouldn’t want to turn down the wrong students for scholarships or hire an instructor who doesn’t know what he or she is doing.”
Amaranthe couldn’t help admiring the fact that he took replacing his mother on the board of directors seriously. Many men or women in his position wouldn’t bother.
“Of course, I’ll help you in any way I can. I love to dance, and I really love teaching anyone who takes it seriously.”
“Tell me about how you got started and why you love it so much.”
