As I step inside, my jaw drops to the floor.
It’s a clothing boutique. The kind of room I could imagine standing in if I were trying on wedding dresses.High-end,designerwedding dresses.
Mirrors line the walls, dark wooden frames heavy and ornate around each one. The entire space has an old-fashioned feel, as if it has been there for decades. Clothes of every type imaginable are displayed on racks around the walls.
An elderly woman appears from behind a curtain to the side, with a tape measure hanging around her neck. She has huge boots on, with thick soles that add to her height, but she can’t be much taller than five feet. Crawford towers over her.
“Luca. You must give me more notice next time,” she murmurs in a heavy Italian accent, approaching me and circling me like a shark.
It’s not like the appraisal Crawford gave me the day before. It’s more like a teacher examining a complex math problem she has to solve.
“Ellie, this is Amelia,” Crawford says. “Amelia, this is Eleanora Zanetti. She’s a wizard. She’ll fit you for some new suits and clothes. Pick whatever you like. The bill’s on me.”
I stare at him, feeling my face go red. He doesn’t seem to notice my embarrassment, but I want the floor to open up beneath me.
My boss is so appalled by my clothing that he’s brought me to a boutique on his own time to buy me new ones.
I remain still, thankful that Crawford isn’t looking at me. I think about the months I’ve spent saving just to be able to buythe underwear I’m currently wearing—for him. There have been times in recent months when I’ve saved every penny I earn and still didn’t have enough money for food.
People like Crawford don’t understand what it is to have nothing, to earn so little you can barely afford food, let alone beautiful clothes. I feel the bitter sting of tears at the back of my eyes and try to hide it. Crawford sits down, back on his phone.
“Come, come,” Eleanora says to me and tugs me over to a booth in the corner.
I’m pushed into a spacious dressing room, and then the curtain is pulled across, and we are in relative privacy.
“You are beautiful,” she says, her voice no more than a whisper. “You do not need clothes to make you beautiful. Men do not understand that, yes? Let him spend his money though.” She leans closer. “We will make you shine.”
Then she leaves me alone. I drop my purse on the floor, wipe away the tears that fall down my cheeks, and straighten my spine.
Let him spend his money.
That sounded like a challenge. I decide to choose the most expensive fucking clothes in the whole store just to spite him.
Chapter 12
Amelia
After my initial humiliation, I decide that Eleanora might be the kindest woman on earth.
She’s gentle yet thorough as she assesses my figure, and after a lot of muttering under her breath, she whisks out of the room.
I can hear Crawford saying something to her in Italian, but I’ve no idea what it is.
A few minutes later, Eleanora is back, holding an armful of beautiful clothes. Over the next few minutes, her assistant hands her several more through the curtain as she drapes them over me, looking in the mirror for my approval every time.
I’ve never felt more spoiled.
Although I’m still irritated at Crawford’s presumption of bringing me here, I truly appreciate the exquisite fashion on display.
Eleanora presents me with dozens of different ensembles. It’s not just suits, but also blouses, skirts, and pants. She shows me how my skin and blonde hair encourage a ‘winter’ tone for my clothing and dismisses any colors outside that range.
Fuchsia, emeralds, and sapphires all complement my hair. I’ve never paid any attention to this type of thing before, and I’m amazed at how the wrong color washes me out completely.
I have eight different outfits hanging on the hook beside me, and as I get into them one by one, Eleanora pulls the curtain back so that Crawford can look at me.
I don’t think I’m hiding my irritation very well and attempt to school my features into a neutral expression, but it doesn’t quite work. I don’t really look at him, and he says very little, but when I do eventually glance up at him, he’s put his phone away. He has his foot up, his ankle resting on his knee, and a finger against his cheek.
He looks me up and down with a little smile on his face, and I frown at him, which only makes the smile grow wider.
