28. Alba
TWENTY-EIGHT
ALBA
A loud noise made me jump from my spot, nestled in the corner of my couch. I whipped my head around, looking for the source of the noise as my heart pounded.
Then I saw a little lit-up screen beside the front door. Someone had rung my buzzer. The studio’s intercom screen had never worked, and as I walked up to glance in this one, I realized this was the first time that someone had come to my apartment to see me.
It was Thursday afternoon, and I hadn’t seen Vaughn in three days. Even though we talked every day, it wasn’t the same as being in his arms. I knew I should enjoy the time away from him and use it to settle my feelings down a little, but I couldn’t help it. I missed him.
I studied the buttons next to my front door, and I pressed the one that looked like a phone receiver. “Hello?”
“Delivery,” the guy on the grainy screen said.
“Who from?”
“How am I supposed to know? You Alba Enders?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’ve got a box for you.”
“I’ll buzz you up.” It took me a second to find the button to unlock the front door, but I did, and then I watched the delivery man open the door, a long box coming into view as he shifted to step inside.
I unlocked my front door and waited until I heard the elevator door slide open, then pulled my door open and stood in the opening.
“Sign here,” he said, thrusting a palm-sized device at me.
“What is it?”
The delivery man looked at me like I was the unfortunate owner of half a brain. “I don’t know,” he said, then thrust the box at me. It was huge and flat and had a big velvet bow holding it closed. There were little droplets of water on the velvet; it was snowing outside.
I opened my mouth to say something, but he was already rushing down the hall and ducking into the elevator.
Sighing, I shuffled inside and let the door fall closed behind me.
Frowning at the box, I turned it around, but there was no card on the outside.
Just a simple white box with a black velvet bow.
Who had sent this? It looked like an item from my old life. Luxury for the sake of luxury. But from who? My parents? James ? Why? None of them knew where I lived, so how could they?
I walked over to the couch and shoved off the blanket I’d wrapped around myself.
My pulse rattled. If this was a present from my old life, I could expect to open it and find a nest of snakes. Vaughn wouldn’t send me anything…would he?
I knew the logical answer wasn’t that my parents had discovered my address and decided to send me a mound of dog shit wrapped in a pretty black bow.
I knew that most likely, this was from Vaughn.
But believing that Vaughn had thought about me and had taken the time to send me a surprise present…
that would mean believing that this thing between us was real. Real real.
That was terrifying. And wonderful. But mostly terrifying.
I huffed. It was a box. How bad could it be? The velvet bow fell apart with a gentle tug. I pushed the damp fabric aside, brushing off a few dots of water from the thick cardboard, then pulled off the top. Nestled in protective paper was a waterfall of lilac-colored fabric.
My heart began to thump—and it wasn’t from nerves.
Someone had sent me a dress.
I touched the neckline, feeling the beading that had to be hand stitched.
The dress fell to a deep V front and back, held up with thin straps at the shoulder.
The bodice was almost completely beaded with thousands of twinkling sequins and stones, which dotted the dress through the hips and down to the bottom hem.
Pulling the dress out of the box, I held it up and felt the satisfying weight of the fabric, admiring the way it swirled and danced against my legs.
I glanced at the tag: Versace .
Oh, my word.
This wasn’t just a dress. This was A Dress. It looked like it was inspired by Claudia Schiffer’s lavender Oscar’s look from 1995. I frowned at the material, the stitching. This wasn’t a new dress. Was it inspired by that dress? Or was it the dress ?
How—
Who—
Not Vaughn. He had multiple pairs of steel-toed boots, and he hadn’t gotten up close and personal with a decent suit until a few weeks ago.
He’d buzzed his hair over the bathroom sink, for crying out loud.
Vaughn wouldn’t have the connections or the knowledge to get a vintage Versace piece released from the archives.
He probably didn’t even know that fashion houses had archives.
For him to send me this dress would mean he had to put in serious effort, and way out of his comfort zone. That wasn’t… He couldn’t, could he?
My mouth had gone dry at some point, and I was afraid of leaving sweat stains on the fabric from how damp my palms had become. I laid the dress back on its protective paper and shifted my gaze to the bottom edge of the box.
A card was secured to little slits in another, smaller box contained inside the big one. My name was written in swirling calligraphy. The card was thick and luxurious, and when I turned it over, there were a grand total of four words, followed by a name: See me for alterations. Koval.
I laughed. The grumpy old man had a way with words, that was for sure. And that meant this dress had to be from Vaughn. Of course it was from him.
Tears formed in my eyes.
And wasn’t that just so typical of him? He’d seen the stress in my face when he’d mentioned expensing my outfit, so he’d taken it upon himself to fix the problem.
I guessed he’d gone to Koval after the fitting on Monday and asked for a dress, and Koval had handled the rest. I wondered if Vaughn had requested purple, to make his daughter happy. It seemed likely.
I looked up, my eyes skimming the main room of my apartment.
It was just like this place, wasn’t it? He’d found the mold and had told me he’d handle it.
And he did. I wasn’t sure how he’d convinced the landlord to keep my rent the same for a place two or three times the size, but he’d done it.
For me. He’d given me a safe roof over my head, somewhere to start fresh, again.
As my heart thundered, I stripped down to my undies and slipped the dress over my head.
It felt like cool liquid falling over my skin, the straps at the shoulders sitting a bit wide, the hips feeling a little tight.
The only mirror in this place was in the bathroom, so I stood in front of the vanity and admired what I could see.
I spun around to look at the play of the light over the sequins at the back and sides and front, my hands skimming over the sides of the garment.
My phone rang. Vaughn.
“Do you like it?” he asked as soon as I answered.
“Vaughn.” I twirled. “Where did you get this?”
“Mr. Koval is full of mysteries. I’m guessing that means it’s the perfect F-U dress for a certain gala?”
“It’s more than an F-U dress. It’s a Diana Revenge Dress.”
“A what?”
“Never mind. I need to call Koval to make an appointment.”
“There’s a car waiting for you downstairs. He’s blocked out the rest of the day for you.”
“ Vaughn .”
He laughed. “Hurry up. I’m sick of sitting here on my own.”
My heart kicked. I ran to the window, struggled with the painted-over sash, and finally heaved it up far enough to stick my head out. “What are you doing here?” I called out, down the eight stories that separated us. Snow fell on my head, over my shoulders.
Vaughn leaned against the side of a black town car, grinning up at me.
“You’re crazy.”
“Get down here,” he said. “You know the old man doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
I slammed the window most of the way down, then stripped off the dress and threw on the old leggings and shirt I’d been wearing earlier.
Carefully repacking the dress, I peeked in the smaller box—beautiful lavender satin shoes—and replaced the top.
I left the velvet bow untied, hauled the box under my arm, and flew down the stairs.
Vaughn caught me at the bottom, taking the box from me to hand it to the driver, then swinging me around in his arms. I laughed, breathless, then tilted my chin up to accept his kiss.
“Where did you find that dress?” I mumbled against my lips. “You didn’t even know what a Windsor knot was until I met you.”
Vaughn grinned. “Do you really think so little of me?”
“You aren’t real. This is a dream.”
“I’ve been pinching myself since I met you,” he said.
My heart fluttered. He was too good to be true—but he was right here in front of me, and I had no choice but to believe this was really happening.
I let Vaughn guide me into the car and then sighed when he slid in beside me.
The door closed, and I saw the darkened shape of the driver move around the car through the tinted windows.
He’d placed the dress in the front passenger seat, and the privacy shade was up.
Vaughn slid his hand over my jaw, and as the car merged into traffic, he kissed me. My heart had already been racing, and his kiss only made it speed up. I clung to his lapels, kissing him back even harder.
“I take it you like the dress,” he mumbled against my lips, his cheek creasing beneath my hand.
“The dress is beautiful. I love it. And—” I stopped myself.
I wanted to tell him I loved him . That he made me feel special and worthy and whole.
I wanted to tell him that my time with him had been the happiest in my life.
He listened to me and never dismissed me.
Even when he didn’t particularly care about something—like a dress—Vaughn went out of his way to find the perfect one.
I’d never imagined life could be this good. Even when I had all the wealth I could have wanted, I wasn’t as happy as I was now.
And it wasn’t the fact that he’d found the perfect, priceless dress for me. It’s that he’d tried. I was so important to him that he’d put in the effort. I mattered .
I hadn’t mattered to my parents—not unless I acted exactly the way they wanted. I hadn’t mattered to James—not unless I gave him access to wealth and prestige and luxury. And I hadn’t mattered to Cole—not really. Not once he was given the option to walk away.
I’d always been on the end of a conditional bargain. I knew my worth in relation to what I could provide other people.
With Vaughn, it was different. Yes, I was teaching him skills to land an investor, to move in higher circles.
But I believed him when he said that whatever I wore to the gala would be perfect.
And I believed him when he said that if I changed my mind and decided I didn’t want to go, he wouldn’t hold it against me.
He valued me for me. No strings. No conditions.
When he pulled back from the kiss and placed his forehead against mine, he was still smiling. “I should buy you dresses more often.”
I choked on air. “ Buy ? You bought that dress?”
He leaned back, frowning. “What else would I do with it?”
“Fashion houses don’t usually sell archival pieces unless?—”
“It was already in a private collection.”
“Koval—”
“Started his career in the Versace workrooms. Apparently now, after a few decades, he’s kind of a big deal.
He has some nice stuff, actually. But when I explained the situation, he insisted that was the one,” Vaughn said, tipping his head toward the front seat where the dress was.
“And it was purple, which seemed fitting.”
“Oh, my goodness.” I couldn’t breathe. “Oh…my goodness .”
“Hey. Take a breath.” Vaughn tilted my chin so I’d meet his eyes. “Breathe, princess. It’s just a dress.”
“It’s not just a dress , Vaughn.”
He laughed. “It is to me.”
Because it didn’t matter what I wore. He still looked at me the same way. Waitress’s uniform. Cleaner’s outfit. Priceless, vintage designer dress. It was all the same to him.
What mattered was me. For the first time in my life, I didn’t have to perform. I just had to be.
The feelings roiling inside me were too big to contain. I leaned over and kissed him again, my hands trembling as they coasted over his shoulders.
“Hey,” he mumbled. “Hey. Come on.” He pulled back and brushed a thumb over my cheek. It came away wet; I was crying.
“You think it’s silly to cry over a dress,” I said, tapping into that old, familiar well of shame that had been kept full by every relationship I’d ever had in my life. I snorted at myself, wiping my face with the heels of my palms.
“I don’t think that,” Vaughn said, pulling my hands away. “But I think you need to breathe for me, Alba.”
I sucked in a rattling breath and met his eyes.
“Better?” he asked gently.
I took another breath, then nodded. “Better.”
“Good,” he said. “Now come here.”