“Miss Ford?” I turn when someone calls my name, flushing when I see Clara walking toward me, her perfectly tailored purple suit and her mink hair tied back in a neat knot. As she approaches me, I can’t help but think how much she looks like a high school principal, all prim, not a hair out of place.
"Clara," I fight the urge to shuffle nervously on my feet when she stops next to me. Next to her, I feel like a naughty student, and heck, maybe I am. After what Pope and I did last night, I surely am in someone's naughty books.
“You’re smiling,” she says. “I was concerned about you after what happened last night but I see you’re in a much better mood than I was expecting.”
Last night. Right. So much happened last night and after the little workout Pope had last night, I had darn near forgotten about the crazy guy that tried to kill my brother and me. Still, the thought doesn’t completely dampen my mood. “I’m alright,” I offer as we head down together.
“Glad to hear that,” she says firmly but I note a slight tug on her lips. "Are you headed down to the seamstress? I'm going to the lounge myself."
“Yeah,” I say as we walk down the hall together. The walk is short, spent in silence with a bit of awkwardness but that does little to ruin my high. I can’t stop smiling, remembering every detail of our first night truly together. I touch my stomach, wondering if the activities of last night planted a baby in me. It’s too soon to tell but we had sex more than once last night—something my sore body can definitely attest to—and I can’t help but secretly hope that I’m already carrying his child.
I bite down a giggle at that.
His child. Pope’s child. Ours.
Clara opens one of the doors to the room reserved for the escorts. The rooms in this part of the casino include a lounge, a locker room, changing rooms, a massive walk-in closet for the women to change in and another room where the seamstress works. Mrs. Ryan, the seamstress employed by Elysium to alter clothes for the escorts and performers was the first person I truly bonded with when I first moved in with Pope. She helped make my engagement dress and together, we worked on my wedding dress design. Heck, she even let me stick around to help with some of the girls' dresses and didn't seem to mind how much time I spent around her, picking at her brain.
I’m practically bubbling with excitement at the thought of viewing my wedding dress when I follow Clara in. I’m not surprised to see the place empty. The escorts generally don’t show up until late in the afternoon and it’s only nine.
“You’re here to see your wedding dress?” Clara asks as she dangles her keys around a finger. "You don't mind if I stick around to see it too, do you?"
“No, I don’t mind,” I beam at her, addling excitedly to the closet where I stored the dress. “It’s only a taboo for the groom to see it.”
“You seem happy, Miss Ford.”
“I am,” I say, more to myself than to her. Pope and I have only been together for a few weeks but it’s the happiest I’ve ever been in my entire life. A part of me isn’t sure if my feelings change anything or we’ll still have to separate after two years but I shake the thought off, unwilling to linger on negative thoughts. I grab the doors to the tall cupboard in the closet and pull it open.
Someone gasps.
I don't know who makes that sound but it's pained, perfectly reacting to the horror staring back at me. Lying on the floor of the cupboard, torn to shreds, is the white gown I worked so hard on. For one frozen minute, I don’t react and then my knees give out and I drop to the ground, tears crowding my eyes as I pick up the pieces, turning it around, but there isn’t a single part of the dress that’s salvageable. Someone tore it to shreds, made sure not one inch of it could even be turned into a handkerchief.
“Oh!” My head whips around and I spot Mrs. Ryan standing by the entrance, her hands clutched to her chest as she stares at the mess in my hands. “Oh God. What happened?”
“I…” I shake my head when the words clog in my throat. “Someone…”
“Oh dear,” the older woman says, rushing to my side. “Who would do such a thing?”
I see Clara’s face turn stony as she too locks in on the shredded dress in my hands. “I’ll inform Mr. Cassidy and get security!” she grits before disappearing down the hall. I turn back to the dress and question when something like this could have happened. With the engagement party occupying most of my time and attention, it's been a few days since I last workedon the dress which means narrowing down who did this will be difficult. There are no cameras in here and with people coming in and leaving at all times of the day…it could’ve been anyone.
“It’s alright, Sienna,” Mrs. Ryan says, patting my back to comfort. “Miss Clara and the Sinners will catch whoever did this. There is still time to remake the dress before the wedding.”
I shake my head on all counts. The chances of them catching the person who did this when this room is a changing room for all escorts is going to be hard. “We have to place an order for this fabric and you know it won’t get here in time.”
“Oh dear.” She strokes my hair, pity written on her face, plain in her voice. “What are we going to do now?”
Part of me wants to scream, storm up to Pope’s apartment, and sulk for the rest of the day but that would be wasting precious time. The wedding is coming soon and now, I don’t have a dress. Sulking won’t change a thing. “I’m going to buy a dress,” I say, morosely, reaching up to wipe my tears off my cheeks. “Whoever did this is hoping to sabotage the wedding and I’m not going to let them.”
Now that I think about it, maybe the other things that have happened to delay the engagement and wedding were not purely bad luck like I first assumed. The delayed shipments and vendor mix-ups were one thing, but a car driven at Jude and now the wedding dress…it feels intentional. Personal.
Someone does not want me to marry Pope.
But why?
“Tell you what. If you find a wedding dress you like at the store, I’ll stay for as long as you want to help you make any adjustments needed,” Mrs. Ryan offers, her smile kind.
I return the smile and I find my mood lifting as we clean up the mess. She gives me a list of bridal stores I can check up on in the city so I mentally file them away and we're just finishing up when a shadow falls over us. I turn around, expecting to see Clara back with security but I am surprised to see Danny, one of the few male escorts at Elysium, watching us. When I first met the escorts, I was surprised to learn that some of them were men and a little disappointed in myself for being so narrow-minded. Of course men could be escorts too and Danny is charming and sweet, two things that make him very popular with the female club members.
“What happened?” he asks, brows furrowed as he stares at the bundle of torn material in my hands. “Is that the dress you’ve been working on for weeks?”
