Chapter 30
THIRTY
Sophia
I take a breath to steady myself before leaving the employee lounge.
I didn’t expect to be nervous, going out there, but it’s not exactly easy to change a mindset and a list of expectations that have been ingrained in your mind for years.
I expect the worst when I step out into the club, seeing how densely-packed the crowd is, but I hoist my empty tray over my head and puff out my chest anyway as I head for my section.
Rounding the corner behind the frosted glass wall, I’m met with a group of my friends. Ava, Summer, Lindsey and Elissa sit perched on the couch, chatting and laughing with each other. I practically squeal when I see them. “What are you guys doing here?”
“Your super-freakin’-hot boss sent us an invite,” Elissa tells me. Looking around the corner as if he just walked by, she lowers her voice a little bit. “I mean, jeez!”
“He’s totally man-candy,” I laugh, “but don’t tell him that. He doesn’t need the ego boost.”
I scan the menu while I wait for the girls to decide what they want, my eyes landing on a section that says HOUSE SPECIALS, and my throat tightens with a ball of choking panic.
Until I scan over the options.
ANGEL SHOT $9.11
NEAT
ON THE ROCKS
WITH A TWIST
There’s no way that this wasn’t Eric’s idea. The section is marked out almost exactly the same way that the VIP menus at Envy – and probably Nash’s other clubs – are set up.
The effort that it takes to hide the smile that my face is determined to wear is honestly a little bit embarrassing, but I manage while I write down the girls’ orders, taking my tray with me to the bar to fill it up.
There are security guards all over the place inside; strategically placed by the doors, the VIP booths, and a few others patrolling through the crowd.
I turn, my back pressed against the bar, while I wait for my tray to be filled, watching the women dancing on suspended platforms above everyone else dancing.
Their leather lingerie leaves little to the imagination; almost less than my own outfit does, and they seem to love it, like they’re really in their element up there.
I sway my hips along with them to the song playing over the sound system, one of my favorites.
The past three songs have been ones that I love, and it’s really helping me feel more confident in my place here.
Not a single hand touches my body uninvited while I cart the tray back to the girls.
Not a single word of proposition meets my ears.
One guy gets bold and tries to approach me while I make my way toward the girls’ table, but he’s stopped by one of those strategically-placed security guards stepping between us.
The rest of my shift goes just as smoothly, and by the end of it, I feel the same way that I felt every night when Eric was coming to see me at Envy; but it’s not just an oxygen mask now. It’s just pure, clean air, and my lungs are so thankful to breathe it in deeply.
I dance to another one of my favorite songs while I change my clothes, swapping out my lingerie for a baggy band t-shirt and a pair of white denim jeans before heading off to Eric’s office, hoping that he’s still here.
I tap my fingertips across the office door before pushing it open to reveal Eric perched on the desk with his phone held to his ear.
“Offer ten more and see what they come back with,” he says.
His eyes land on me while he listens to the person on the other end of the line talking, throwing me a wink.
“I gotta go, old bastard.” He hangs up without waiting for his friend to say anything, and he crosses the room to put his arm around my shoulders, bending down to kiss me. “How’d it go?”
“Well my boss made sure that I was with my friends all night, and the music choice just happened to be practically every song on my favorites playlist, so, it was alright,” I tease.
He might not use his words; he might not be able to use his words. But that doesn’t mean that he isn’t terribly loud in his affections.
“Hey listen,” he says, “my nephew’s getting some big degree next week and we’re throwing a huge party after.
” Reaching into a pen holder on the desk, which I can only assume was not his doing but probably Colt’s, he pulls out a fine point pen.
Grabbing my hand, he scribbles out an address onto my palm.
I don’t think I’ve ever really seen his handwriting before; a doctor writes more legibly than this man does.
“Go to this address, pick out whatever you wanna wear.”
He slips his wallet from the back pocket of his slacks, slipping a black card from one of the slots, and I freeze when he hands it to me. “Eric.”
“Would you stop saying it like that?” He laughs.
“I’m sorry, I get a little flustered when a man drops the cost of a house on me in the span of four hours,” I snark. “I’m not using that.”
“You are,” he says, dropping to sit on the desk. God, I wish he would stop doing that. It makes it really hard to focus on being mad at him. “And you’re not gonna worry about coupons or price tags or any of that shit while you’re with me.”
While I’m with him.
My teeth tug at my lower lip, biting back a smile that I worry will scare him away and send him running, and I take the card from his hand. “Fine,” I concede. “What’s your favorite color?”
He lets out a laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling and his beautiful smile sparkling. “What?”
“Your favorite color,” I repeat. “What is it?”
·
Walking into the shop takes my breath away.
Tall, arched ceilings hang over crisp, white walls.
Three massive couches line the widespread aisles, poised in front of small pedestals on the floor which are surrounded by floor-length mirrors.
Decadent gowns and suits of every color and texture line racks upon racks upon racks that seem like they’ll never end.
A woman approaches Ava and I, a flute of champagne in each hand, and she offers them to us. “Miss Costas?” I give her a slow nod, and I can feel my eyes bugging out of my head while I do it. “We’ve been expecting you. This way, please.”
Ava and I exchange a look and her elbow knocks into mine while we each accept our glasses of champagne. We follow the woman through the boutique, taken to the center couch, and we settle into the crushed velvet cushions.
“Are we looking for anything in particular, this afternoon?” The woman asks.
“Um, yes,” I stammer. “I need a dress for a party, preferably green.”
With a nod, she excuses herself to flit through the aisles, throwing all kinds of dresses over her arm while she moves. Ava and I sip our champagne silently for the first few minutes, both of us too shocked to say anything, until the woman has disappeared to another area of the store.
“I like your boyfriend’s love language,” she leans over to whisper.
‘Boyfriend’ doesn’t really feel right; it doesn’t feel big enough for whatever it is that he is to me.
He’s so much more than that. A boyfriend is a passing thing that can become more, but Eric Davis has always been more for me.
From the second that I approached him in that club to the minute he let me look into a piece of his past, he’s been more.
As the woman returns to us, she settles the gowns draped over her arm onto a nearby rack.
There are at least twelve of them, in various shades of green.
Some silken, others covered in glittery sequins, all of them beautiful.
The woman tops off our glasses before lowering herself toward Ava and placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“Mr. Davis has left explicit instruction that both of his guests are to make a selection today.”
Ava’s eyes snap to mine. “What?”
“Is he here?” I ask.
“No, ma’am.”
I dig into my purse – the first of now many gifts from Eric, and I pull out my phone to shoot off a quick text to him.
Me: What are you up to?
Eric: :D
Me: That’s not an answer.
Eric: ;)
“I hate him,” I announce with a soft laugh, stuffing the device back into its holding place.
Within twenty minutes, our little – okay, huge – couch is surrounded by racks of dresses for the two of us to try on.
It feels like we’re prom dress shopping together, sipping on probably two and a half bottles of champagne and watching each other spin around in our pretty princess dresses, most of which are floor-length gowns, though there are a few thigh-cut outliers in the mix.
Ava steps out of the dressing room and onto the small pedestal in front of the couch, wearing a royal purple dress made of silk that falls just below her ankles. The corset bodice hugs her body while the skirt swoops down at the side, making her legs look a mile long – in a good way.
“Sheeeeeesh,” I crow, fanning myself off. “I’m hard.” Ava cackles, joining in on the fanning, then reaches for the price tag at the side, and I grab onto her wrist to stop her. “We’re not allowed to look.”
“Oh, this has to be killing you, coupon queen,” she laughs.
“The necklace killed me,” I tell her. “At this point, this is just desecration of my corpse.”
She steps closer and takes my face in her hands, squishing my cheeks together. “Your love makes me sick,” she tells me, “and I’m very happy for you.”
She plants a big kiss at the center of my forehead before turning away to change out of her dress and into the casual clothes that she wore to the boutique.
Minutes later, I slip into a dress of my own; a hunter green dress made from silk velvet.
It’s a simple design with a strapless bodice that has a sweetheart neckline, and an asymmetrical skirt that pulls up at the thigh, leaving the rest of the fabric to pool at my feet.
It’s classy, but still sexy. The urge to check the price tag before I fall in love with it practically consumes me, but I manage to shove it away and let myself love the damn dress.
Eric’s card burns through my skin while we stand at the register, waiting to hear the total on our dresses, but the woman ringing us up never says a number.
She doesn’t let me see the screen, either, and I can only assume that there were more ‘explicit instructions’ on his list than the ones that she told us about.
I feel like I’m committing a felony as I swipe the card through the reader, but I do it anyway, because I can only imagine the ways that he would ‘punish’ me for not using it.
As nauseating as it is, it’s also just a little bit exciting.