“You guys really don’t need to buy this for me.”
Emmy scoffs. “We’re not. I told you, Cin’s not that benevolent, and I’m a worse mooch than he is.”
“It’s true,” he agrees without an ounce of remorse. “Consider it an apology gift for Slade’s rude behavior at dinner.”
“He said that?”
With a wicked grin, he holds up a credit card between two fingers with Slade’s name emblazoned on it. “No, but what’s he going to do, force you to take it off?” Gaze languidly roaming over me, he adds, “I’d like to see him try.”
Dragging Emmy back into the stall, I unfasten the collar, switching back into my casual cotton dress while trying to get my embarrassment under control. “You seem more excited about conning me into suffering with you than going. Why don’t we just skip it and do something else?”
Her face falls as she turns away, trying on the next dress. “Can’t. Downside of the rich and famous,” she sneers in a mocking tone. At my lack of response, she sighs before carefully choosing her words, pausing here and there as she edits certain things out. “Our parents arranged for me to marry someone when I turned eighteen. But when they died a year beforehand, I sort of... bailed.”
Silent, I help her out of this dress and reach for the next, not interrupting her with my multitude of questions since she’s clearly struggling to discuss it at all.
“There are some people that have their panties in a twist about it, but my brothers put their feet down and said it was done and I'd marry whoever the fuck I want. Problem is, in the circles we run, there’s a sort of-” she meets my eye in the mirror while I zip her up “-balance that we need to maintain. A few pissed off people, we can deal with, but with money comes reach and influence. People can be swayed to certain sides with the right incentives, and it’s easy for that balance to quickly tip out of our favor.”
“So you need to go through the motions to appease the right people so they don’t turn against you?”
With a wry smile, she keeps her chin held high, stepping away from me to spin in front of the mirror. “Hope does wonders to keep people in check for a while, but they’ll only be strung along for so long. Men are many things, but patience has never been their strong suit.”
My stomach sinks. “Emmeline.”
Over her shoulder, she gives me a blinding smile. “This is it.”
High collared and sleeveless, the light blue dress is tight fitting with an intricate lace overlay, ending just above her knees. There’s a high slit up each thigh to allow movement, and if desired, would be dangerously flirtatious depending on how she chose to sit. It gives her the potential to adapt to any situation; switching between reserved and modest to coy with a simple shift of her posture.
“I didn't realize this was a thing people still dealt with in this day and age.”
She takes one more look at herself before sweeping her long blonde hair out of the way so that I can help her unzip. “You’d be surprised what people deal with behind closed doors, Sabrina. No stranger on the street ever shows you their true face.” Sliding her dress off, catches my eye in the mirror and winks. “Except you. You wear your heart on your sleeve, and it’s incredibly refreshing.”
Slipping back into her clothes, we grab our dresses and head for the door when she suddenly laughs, raising the level of her voice back to normal instead of hushed whispers. “So by all that is holy, don’t let anyone con you into playing cards while we’re there. You have the worst poker face of anyone I’ve ever met.”
Cin chuckles, plucking the dresses from us and slinging them over his arm, escorting us to the register. “That’s for damn sure. They’d eat her alive if we let ‘em, wouldn’t they, Em?”
She smiles softly, flawlessly concealing all traces of sadness from her face in a way that can only stem from an abundance of practice. “I’d like to see them try.”
