As if sensing my attention, she glances up, a warm smile of recognition extending all the way to her heavily winged eyelids.
‘Victoria, welcome. It’s lovely to see you.’ She appears at my right, while Archie hovers at my left with a pained expression on his face. ‘Like what you see?’
I finger the ivory lace. ‘I love this one.’ A tiny discreet label is pinned to the shoulder with the price. It’s more than most people earn in a month, but I need it.
‘That’s actually from our bridal collection on the second floor. Why don’t you go on up? It’s not limited to brides-to-be, but the entire floor is dedicated to virtuous-looking pieces.’
She offers an encouraging nod towards the wide white painted staircase at the side of the room. ‘Take as many pieces as you like, bring them up to the third floor. The girls will set up a dressing room for you. Take your time up there. I’ll organise some refreshments to be sent up.’
The second floor is every bride’s wildest dream. I point out the lace bodysuit and five other pieces to one of the assistants, including a silk balconette bra with matching thong and a suspender belt dotted with tiny Swarovski crystals, which blows the original lace bodysuit straight out of the water. I think I’m in love. There’s a first for everything, I guess.
The assistant weighs me up with one swift, unobtrusive glance. ‘I’ll bring your size up.’ One slim finger points to another set of stairs, which Archie and I climb silently, arms still interlinked.
Heat blazes between us. I want him to hold on to me forever.
I’m barely breathing. He’s barely touching me, and I’m more turned on than I’ve ever been in my entire life.
Another assistant greets us at the top with a professional smile. She leads us along a navy carpeted corridor to one of four doors. Archie pauses for a split second, as if he’s unsure whether to come in.
‘You’re supposed to be within five feet of me, remember?’ My whisper comes out like a plea. If there’s a hell, I think I’ve just booked myself a one-way ticket.
Thankfully, he indulges me.
Inside the large rectangular dressing room are floor-to-ceiling mirrors lining each of the four walls. A flutter of anticipation soars through me. Archie has a front-row seat to examineeveryangle. Let’s just hope he likes what he sees.
A frosted folding screen separates a small area from the main part of the room opposite a large, pearlescent chaise lounge. Adjacent is a small glass table bearing an ice bucket containing a bottle of Taittinger champagne.
‘Help yourselves to a drink while you wait,’ the assistant says.
A heavy door clunks shut. And we’re alone.
The air is electrified with an invisible circuit. Archie finally drops my arm and turns to face me. Azure irises smoulder into mine from above. I press my body against his huge physique, but not my lips, in case I scare him off again.
His arousal is evident in his trousers. Mine is less obvious, but there nonetheless.
‘Victoria.’ The same old warning is getting tedious, but it’s definitely waning in its resolve.
He steps away from me and opens the champagne with a delightful pop, pouring it into one of two long stemmed flutes.
‘Won’t you join me?’ I motion to the other empty glass.
‘I’m working.’ Somehow, his expression remains neutral.
Two sharp raps on the door cause me to jump. Archie takes the lingerie from the assistant and closes the door behind her.
‘I should wait outside.’ His gravelly tone is weighted with wanting. Torn between doing what’s right and what he desires. His hand goes to the silver pendant he wears around his neck, finger and thumb pinching his St. Christopher. I’d never have pegged him as the religious type, but he seems to do that any time he’s in doubt, so maybe he believes in something.
I believe in something too. That I might actually wither and die if he doesn’t touch me soon.
‘You’re my bodyguard. You’re paid to watch me. So do exactly that.’ I knock back the contents of my glass for Dutch courage before taking the garments behind the frosted screen.
I slip off my coat, hang it on a chrome coatrack and undress with shaky fingers. The same electro beat plays through the speakers. It’s low enough for me to hear Archie’s heavy feet pad across the room. Is he going to slip out?
The chaise lounge decompresses.
Boom! It appears he’s staying for the show. A hit of heat bursts through my veins.
I start with my favourite. The balconette bra. It fits flawlessly, lifting my cleavage and accentuating the swell of my breasts. The Swarovski encrusted thong sits perfectly on my hips and between my ass cheeks. I pull on a pair of silk-topped stockings and pin them in position with the matching suspender belt.
