I stare. “What is that?”
Brooke steps forward, hands clasped behind her back, looking entirely too pleased with herself. “The girls went out during lunch and picked something up for you. There may have been a few other requests with that phone call I got this morning…”
“You bought me a dress?” I squeak.
Brooke only tips her head toward Kaz, making it clear thathebought me the dress. She just did his bidding. A little too happily, perhaps.
I’m too stunned to speak.
Kaz watches the exchange with quiet amusement, then reaches into his pocket and produces a small velvet box. When he opens it, two pink diamond earrings catch the light. They are soft and luminous, the color of crushed rose petals.
“They’ll match,” he says simply.
My throat tightens. Someone behind me whispers, “Oh my God,” like we’re in a movie.
Brooke gently pushes me toward the hallway. “Go change before he decides to carry you out of here.”
When I step back into the reception area, there are only a few coworkers left, Brooke among them.
For a second I just stand there, fingers hooked nervously in the soft fabric at my waist, fighting the urge to retreat down the hallway and change back into my safe, anonymous scrubs. The dress feels like a spotlight. It isn’t tight or flashy the way I’d imagined something fancy would be. But somehow that makes it worse, because it fits me too well, like it understands my body better than I do.
The silk is a muted mauve that catches the light when I move, wrapping across my chest and tying at my waist before falling in a long, graceful line down my legs. It skims my hips instead of clinging. It’s elegant in a way that makes me feel taller, steadier, almost expensive.
My hair is down, brushed smooth after Tasha and two others attacked me with a comb and sheer force of will. The pink diamond earrings graze my neck every time I breathe, cool and delicate against my skin.
For once, when I look at myself, I don’t immediately catalog what needs fixing.
I just look nice.
The girls stare at me like they’re seeing a reveal on some makeover show.
“Oh my God, Aly.”
“Stop. You look insane.”
“Like actually insane.”
Heat climbs my throat and floods my cheeks, and I laugh under my breath because if I don’t, I might cry.
Then I see Kazimir.
He hasn’t moved from where I left him.
He just watches me.
The world seems to narrow down to the space between us as his gaze travels slowly, unhurried, from my hair to my shoulders to the curve of my waist. There’s nothing crude in it, nothing hungry or entitled. If anything, he looks stunned, like I’ve surprised him.
My stomach flips hard enough to hurt.
“I feel ridiculous,” I murmur, suddenly self-conscious all over again.
His head lifts immediately, a faint crease forming between his brows as though I’ve said something offensive.
“You’re not ridiculous,” he says quietly.
Before I can ask what he’s doing, he steps forward and, without a hint of hesitation, drops to one knee in front of me.
The entire lobby gasps.
