The mystery is solved when we glide to a stop in front of a famous and famously expensive boutique. I’m immediately ill at ease when Evgeny ushers me in.
The space is way too luxurious, and the saleswoman is unable to hide the judgment and disdain on her face as she takes in my figure. I forget about the saleswoman and her judgment the moment Matvei steps into view, rising out of the shadows like a vengeful vampire from a romance novel. His scent envelopes me as he comes close, his lips warm when they brush my cheek.
“Hi,” I say, then groan internally because it sounds so inane.
“Hello there.” God, is his voice deeper than I remember? It rumbles to the very marrow of my bones.
“I was at work, you know. It would’ve been nice to receive a request for an appointment so I could’ve planned around this.”
“Evgeny told me you are on your lunch break. It’s not a problem, is it?” He turns and strides toward a room at the back of the boutique.
I trot to keep up. “You didn’t know that when you sent your bodyguard for me.”
“He is not my bodyguard; he is my most trusted lieutenant.”
I catch up. “I have no idea what the hell that means, exactly, but that’s beside the point. Next time, just ask. Better yet, let me get my own dress. I’m perfectly capable of shopping for myself.”
“Not for this wedding, you’re not,” Matvei replies.
I stop and glare at his back for a few seconds before following him into a private dressing room where a woman waits with flutes of champagne.
“Thanks, but I have to get back to work soon. I can’t drink.”
Matvei and Evgeny enjoy the champagne, swapping a few words in Russian.
“Do you always send your second in command to run errands for you?” I ask.
“Only when it’s important.” Matvei makes himself comfortable in a chair that’s too small for his frame. Somehow, he still manages to look at ease.
The saleswoman who was glaring at me when I walked in enters from a separate door on the other side of the room, pushing a rack with multiple gowns on it.
“Here are a few of the dresses you requested, Mr. Volkov. I have the others in the back, and they’ll be brought up shortly.”
The woman is entirely professional, but I can’t tell whether she’s nervous or trying to flirt as she keeps flashing looks at him under her long, dark eyelashes.
“You don’t even know what I like to wear,” I say to Matvei. My excitement from seeing him in person again is quickly overcome by annoyance at his high-handedness. “That’s not how any of this works.”
“Today it is.” The comment brooks no argument, but the lawyer in me takes over.
“Fine. I’ll try your choices, but if I don’t like any of them, I’m choosing my own.”
Matvei shrugs as if he’s indifferent to the idea, which I’m guessing is completely untrue.
The saleswoman pulls a dress off the rack and leads me into the small, curtained alcove where she helps me put it on.
“It doesn’t fit,” I tell him as I step out of the dressing room. The woman’s slight smirk tells me she’s thinking the same thing. It’s tight in all the wrong places, highlighting the fact that I don’t look like a model or Samson’s fiancée.
“These will be made to your sizing and your liking once you choose one.”
“It still isn’t going to work,” I mutter. Our eyes meet in the mirror, and for a moment, it looks like he’s going to argue. Instead, he sits back, champagne in hand, waiting like a king for me to try the next one. I grit my teeth while the saleswoman and I go back to the dressing room.
The next two are a bust as well. One isn’t my color, and the other doesn’t cover enough.
I glance at my watch. “I told my boss I’d be back soon. You know, lunchhour.”
“You’ll be back in time for work,” Matvei says, relaxing in the chair, one leg resting over the other. I’m not sure he has any genuine concept of a normal workday.
The next gown, if it can be called that, has a virtually see-through bodice with an absurd skirt made to look like swan feathers. I can’t help but burst into giggles as soon as I see myself inthe mirror. “I cannot go out in public in this. I’ll definitely get attention, but probably not the kind either of us is looking for.”
