Huh? In what universe?
Antoine hands Wu a business card. I can’t see what’s written on it, but it looks remarkably minimalistic for a tattoo artist.
“It’s settled, then.” Wu beams. “My assistant will issue tickets for you and your wife. You can pay directly at the venue. He’ll email you the details within the next ten minutes.”
Antoine nods. “That would be much appreciated.”
“I trust you’ll find the event enjoyable.” Wu rises to his feet.
Antoine and I stand and thank him.
Wu extends his hand again. “See you tonight—and welcome to Shanghai!”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
LAURA
The sales assistant hands me the receipt. Smoothing my brand-new evening gown, I glance at the clutch bag on the boutique’s immaculate counter. It’s as pretty as it is impractical. While the gown is worth every yuan Antoine withdrew for me, I only bought this overpriced item because there’s no time to look for a deal.
I toss my backpack onto the counter and start transferring my essentials. Lipstick, wallet, phone… The clerk looks appalled as I unceremoniously shove as much of my stuff as I can into the clutch. I’d shocked her already when I said I was keeping the dress and the heels on. This just adds insult to injury.
Small wonder she “forgets” to give me a custom paper bag to put my old clothes in! I shove them into my backpack and head to the exit.
Antoine’s suggestion to buy the evening outfits, put them on and go straight to the gala dinner made perfect sense when he laid it out. We’d risk being late if we stopped at the hotel first. But now that I’m standing here wondering where to stash my old things, Antoine’s plan seems a lot less sensible. My predicament reminds me of a makeover show I used to watch, where acontestant freaked out when she was told to burn her “before” outfit.
Oh, that’s rich, Laura!It takes some nerve for a reality TV bride to laugh at a public makeover guinea pig. The makeover folks don’t marry total strangers.
I step out of the boutique into the evening air, which is cooler now than when we landed. As I scan the sidewalk for Antoine, a gentleman emerges from a menswear shop across the street and waves before calling my name. For a split second, I wonder why. Then my brain catches up. It’s Antoine. And he’s transformed.
Ha, speaking of makeovers!
He’s wearing a midnight black tuxedo, with fine fabric and sharp, clean lines that scream impeccable taste backed by wealth. I’d swear the tux was bespoke if such a feat of couture wasn’t physically impossible in the half hour he spent in the shop. The shirt underneath is perfectly crisp. The bow tie is flawless. A pair of cufflinks gleam discreetly on his wrists—small onyx squares framed in what looks like white gold. Patent leather shoes, lustrous enough to reflect the Shanghai skyline, complete the look.
My throat goes dry.
I’ve seen Antoine in different outfits over the past two weeks, but they’ve all been variations of the same combo: flashy sneakers, torn jeans, and a red or black stretch shirt, usually short sleeved to display his tattoos. However, this man is a whole other Antoine. Walking toward me is a magnificent male specimen who looks like he just stepped out of a men’s lifestyle magazine. Even his thick, overgrown hair, which usually covers half of his face, is now neatly parted and tucked behind his ears à la Brad Pitt in his prime.
“You’re staring,” Antoine says stopping next to me, his voice amused.
I snap my mouth shut. “You look…”
“Hot?” He gives me a cocky smile, but there’s a question in his eyes, like he’s not sure if I really like what I see.
“Devastatingly so,” I blurt with an honesty that startles me.
“That’s a relief.” He grins from ear to ear. “I was afraid you’d hate this look.”
“Are you crazy? How can any heterosexual woman with a pulse hate it?”
He frowns. “But your type of guy… The chill vibe, the rebel… Isn’t that what you’re into?”
Am I?That’s what Mike looks like. And the boyfriend I had before him, too. But am I stillintoit? Or have I grown out of it?
Antoine looks me over. “Anyway, enough about me. You, Laura Yang, you rock that outfit!”
The way his eyes take in my dress, caressing the curves wrapped in silky material, makes the back of my neck tingle.
“Emerald green suits you,” he says. “And the fit is exquisite. You look stunning, Laura.”
