Chapter 12 Charlotte
Charlotte
Harrods. I’d seen it on the TV. How surreal to be walking inside a building so iconic.
Enticing smells drifted from the fragrance counter.
We passed by busy high-end boutiques and displays of sparkly handbags and shoe heaven full of brands that I’d only ever dreamed of owning: Gucci, Prada, Valentino.
Cole glided over the marble floor with so much authority, I almost had to jog to keep up with his long strides.
He looked like a million dollars in his elegant suit and polished brogues.
I glimpsed my fuzzy yellow jumper, denim skirt, and rainbow tights in a shop window.
I could hardly argue when he’d said we needed to go shopping.
Most of my clothes were from vintage and charity shops, and I didn’t want to stick out at his fancy events.
We passed through a home goods store and my heart pounded. Everything looked crazy expensive and fragile. It would be so easy to swing my handbag and accidentally smash a priceless vase. I stopped to look at a tiny bejeweled ornamental dog.
Cole watched me. “You want it?”
“It’s an ornamental sausage dog that costs two thousand pounds. What would I do with it?”
“Put it on the mantelpiece and look at it?”
“I’d rather put two grand on my mantelpiece and look at that.” I moved to admire a cabinet of glossy plates and bowls.
“You like this stuff?”
“I loved throwing pots at art school.” It was about the only thing I had loved there.
He raised a dark brow. “Why exactly were you throwing the pots?”
“It’s what they call it when you shape clay on a wheel. Throwing.”
“But you stopped? You couldn’t throw pots at home?”
“I didn’t have time or space. You need a wheel, a kiln, and a glazing area. It’s not a cheap hobby.”
He pressed his lips together thoughtfully, but said nothing further. I dragged myself away from the delicate porcelain. Cole wasn’t hurrying me, but he had to have better things to do than this. We carried on up the grand central escalator until racks of glittering dresses caught my eye.
“I can handle this alone, you know. I don’t want to drag you around dress shopping like one of those beleaguered boyfriends you see sitting outside the women’s changing rooms on a Saturday morning.”
“I don’t feel beleaguered. I had my PA clear my diary.”
I raised a skeptical eyebrow. He was probably here because he wanted to make sure I chose the right thing for his image.
Cole knew far more than me about fashion.
He always looked impeccable. I followed him toward racks brimming with stunning sparkly frocks.
A beautiful long midnight-blue Vivienne Westwood gown hung at the front of one rack.
I couldn’t resist feeling the luxurious fabric between my fingers.
“Try it on,” he said.
“It’s seven thousand pounds.”
His crisp voice took on a commanding edge. “I didn’t ask the price.”
This was a dress for a long, elegant, willowy woman.
Not me. A song drifted to my ears above the low, ambient chatter and bustle.
“Cheek to Cheek” by Fred Astaire. A number from one of Dad’s favorite old musicals.
The song hurtled me back to the house. It was just the two of us in the living room.
The scent of shaving cream. The rasp of whiskers against my face when I kissed him on the cheek.
Sometimes, music had been the only way to reach him.
When he’d been confused and upset, I’d put this song on to soothe him.
A lump wedged in my throat. The lights overhead dazzled. Everything in this place was too sparkly and bright and showy. This wasn’t me. I didn’t own any designer dresses. It was weird to even contemplate trying on a seven-thousand-pound dress.
“This was a mistake,” I said.
“What?”
All of it. I shouldn’t be here. “Sorry, it’s this song.”
He raised a questioning eyebrow.
“It was one of Dad’s favorites.”
His eyes, which were usually cold, glittered with unexpected compassion. “Let’s get you back. I’ll go alone tonight. It’s too soon.”
No. This was why I was here. To help Cole. This is what I’d signed up for. I sucked in a deep breath. “It’s fine. I’ll be fine. Sometimes I’m OK. Sometimes I’m not. Grief is complicated, I guess. Dad was ill for so long. We knew it was coming, but it doesn’t make it easier . . .”
He searched my face. “I understand. You want to give this party a miss, just say the word. I don’t mind.”
“No. I want to find a dress, and I want to come with you to the party. Dad would have wanted us to carry on.” I pasted on a trembling smile.
He studied my face carefully, then signaled to a shop assistant hovering nearby. “Excuse me. Can you help my . . .” He paused and a small line formed between his brows. He cleared his throat. “Can you help my fiancée find something special for a ball tonight? She’d like to try this on.”
Fiancée. I waited for the assistant to laugh at the audacity of someone like me being engaged to this flawless man and wanting to try on this seven-thousand-pound dress, or some other sign that we’d been rumbled, but she flashed a broad smile. “Of course. Right this way, please.”
I stepped out of the dressing room. The dress clung to my body, pulling tight over my chest and hips to give my curves a sleeker silhouette than I was used to.
It was like glimpsing a stranger in the mirror.
This woman looked like a movie star on the red carpet.
The only problem was my cleavage. I’d barely squeezed one boob into this dress, let alone two.
“Well? Will I do?”
Cole’s eyes traveled over me like he was trying not to look too hard but couldn’t help himself.
I did a funny curtsy with a flourish because I couldn’t meet his eyes.
Everything about this was odd. I’d had to adjust to the idea that I’d never see this man again.
Now, we were here, doing this. We didn’t feel like friends, but not like strangers either.
It was some weird gray area full of awkwardness, misplaced familiarity, and tension.
“You look . . .” His eyes widened slightly before he smoothed his expression. A tell in his usual cold poise. “It’s a beautiful dress.”
I twirled in the mirror and the cool fabric rippled deliciously against my skin. “The problem is that it’s strapless.”
“Why is that a problem?”
“I’ve got too much up top for strapless.”
“I wouldn’t say it’s a problem,” he murmured.
The heated look in his eyes made a warm shiver run up my spine.
I tried to keep my expression nonchalant despite my racing heart.
This was out of my comfort zone. I hadn’t worn a fancy dress in so long, and never anything like this.
It mattered that I looked the part. Cole was investing in me.
It mattered that I could pull this off. Otherwise, I’d embarrass him in front of people he was trying to impress.
I didn’t want to embarrass myself either.
His approving gaze lingered so long on my body, it made my skin prickle with goosebumps. It was like being teenagers again. When we’d kissed, it was the first time a man had touched me. I could almost feel his thumb circling my nipple. My body flooded with heat.
“Cole?”
His eyes snapped to mine. “Hmm-mm?”
“Do I look OK?”
“Turn around.”
I did a slow spin and his icy eyes held mine in the mirror.
He rocked back on his polished brogues. “You need to wear something that makes you feel good. Do you feel good?”
Everything sat just right. Classy and sexy. “I think it’s incredible, but you don’t think it’s too much? Too . . . revealing?”
I adjusted the fabric over my cleavage, and his eyes tracked the movement.
The way he was looking at me made my nipples firm into hard marbles.
Now it looked even more indecent. His gaze dropped to my chest again and darted away.
I had to stifle a laugh. It’s like this man had never seen a pair of boobs before.
“You have seen boobs before, right?”
“Pardon?”
“Boobs? Like, for real in the flesh? You’ve touched other boobs besides mine, I hope.”
The teasing words were out before I could stop them. It was the kind of thing I would have wound him up with when I’d caught him sneaking peeks at me when we were young.
A smirk pulled at his lips. Cole didn’t flirt. He wasn’t the type to play games. He just went after what he wanted. The tension eased from my shoulders when he swiftly changed the subject. “Shall we find some shoes to go with this?”
I let out a long sigh. Who was I kidding? I couldn’t pull off a dress this flashy. “I’d better try something else.”
“Please don’t.” His voice was rough and edged with authority. “I want you at my side tonight in this dress. Let’s get you something sparkly to go with it. I want to see you dripping in diamonds.”
God. He was flawless. So handsome and polished. So used to getting everything he wanted. The way he’d been looking at me made my skin hot and tight, but I couldn’t lose my head. No emotions. No sex. Cole had shown a complete disregard for my heart in the past.
He was dangerous and I couldn’t make any clear-headed decisions after the past couple of years I’d had. Better not to tease him or get sucked in. It wasn’t my fault I had great boobs. He could look all he wanted, but only a fool would let him touch. I’d been a fool when I was younger. Not now.
I did another twirl in the mirror. My heart was still as heavy as a stone, but a glimmer of something light gripped me. If I had to go to some fancy event, then at least I’d look the part. As I turned back to the dressing room, I thought I heard him mutter under his breath.
“Best seven thousand pounds I’ve ever spent.”