Chapter 5
AURORA
He waves his hand at me as though I’m his assistant and he’s giving me an instruction. My command is your wish, he said earlier, and that triggered something in me.
He said it in a husky low voice, his pale blue eyes fixated on me. He’s a tall, broad man. Even with his suit hanging somewhat loosely off him, I can see the outlines of his muscles, the power in his body.
He has a playful glint in his eyes, like nothing matters because he’s so rich, and he’s got no problems. I try to think about what Grandma said, how I’m seeing things that aren’t there. The Goliath idiot put me in a bad mood, and now I’m blaming this stranger.
“I’m sorry,” I say after a long pause. “I’m mortified that I spoke to a customer that way. I promise you, it’s not how we usually do business. My grandmother is sick, and we’re having some other trouble. That’s no excuse, but I hope it helps explain why I—”
“Apology accepted,” he cuts in.
I blow out a grateful breath. “Thank you.”
“Shall we carry on?”
As I approach him, I wonder if I imagine his gaze flitting up and down my body. It’s happened a few times–I think. Maybe he just doesn’t like eye contact. His cologne washes over me when I’m within touching distance again.
“So, how has your day been?” I ask as I take more measurements.
“We don’t have to make small talk,” he says.
He seemed pretty keen to make small talk before. Is he sulking now?
When I measure his waist, my hand brushes too close. I’m sure I feel the heat of his skin through the material, the hardness of his abs.
“Careful, that’s close to the skin.”
I look up at him. “Don’t worry. If I wanted to hurt you, I would’ve done it already.”
We look into each other’s eyes for too long. He’s got a full-on smirk again. I’m smiling too. I can’t help it.
“You must be busy in the run-up to Halloween,” he says.
I thought you didn’t want to make small talk, I almost reply, but I stamp down the pettiness.
“People in this town love our costumes, thankfully,” I reply. “So yes, we’re busy.”
“You design the outfits, too?”
“Yeah,” I tell him. “I have ever since I was a kid. Christmas work used to be my favorite-outfits for the Nativity, elf costumes, stuff like that. But then…”
Then, my parents died over Christmas, and that holiday changed forever.
“Anyway, Halloween is my favorite holiday now,” I go on, not wanting to go into my parents’ deaths.
“Why?” he asks.
“I love seeing the kids’ eyes light up when they try on their costumes.
I love the sweet treats and the mood of the night itself.
The fact people get to dress up and become someone else, get to truly be someone else if they believe hard enough.
It’s like a magic spell we all agree to cast on ourselves and each other.
For a short time… I’m not me. I’m whoever I choose to be. ”
I stop, breathless, realizing I’ve gone on a bit of a rant.
“Anyway,” I mutter. “It’s silly.”
“It’s not silly,” he says gruffly. “It makes total sense.”
“You must love Halloween. With the Retreat and everything.”
He shrugs, his eyes never leaving me. He’s not smirking, nor smiling. He just looks at me with a level of interest that takes me off guard. It’s weirdly gratifying, not that I’ll admit that.
“That’s more of my grandmother’s thing.”
“You don’t attend?”
“I attend, sure, but the festivities of Halloween aren’t why I appreciate it. I like the brutal honesty. Most of the time, people are wearing masks anyway. Three hundred and sixty-five days of the year, they wear them. Halloween is just the one where people are honest about it.”
I finish up the measurements, then go to the counter to jot them down.
“I thought you might call me cynical,” he says.
I turn and smile. “I won’t be winning any customer service awards doing that, right?”
When he laughs, it feels like earning something. Which is annoying. I’ve got nothing to prove to this stranger.
“Once I’ve made my markings, I’ll need the suit to make the alterations. It will be ready before the Retreat.”
“Excellent. And that’ll be ten thousand dollars, correct?”
My mouth falls open. I close it before it hits the floor. “No, Mr. Blackwell, that’s not correct.”
“For the entire service,” he says with a smirk.
“It’s not even close to correct.”
He takes a step forward, seeming so tall and imposing when he’s standing close to me. It’s not just his size. It’s his presence. “I’m not talking about the tailoring work.”
“Then you’ve got me at a loss.”
“I have a unique business proposition, and I think you’ll be the perfect candidate.”
“Do you need a costume for the Retreat?”
“I need you for the Retreat,” he says in that husky tone again.
My command is your wish. Like I want him to tell me what to do. Like I want to relinquish responsibility.
“I don’t understand. You need seamstress services at the Annual Grand Masquerade Retreat?”
“I need Aurora services… Wait, that came out wrong.”
“I think you should explain, Mr. Blackwell.”
He comes even closer, invading my personal space. I don’t tell him to back up. Why not? I’m not sure.
“I’m not sure how much you know about our family, but some say we’re cursed.
There aren’t many of us left. My grandmother holds all the chips as far as my inheritance is concerned.
It turns out that the crazy, endearing woman has decided she wants to see me with a woman on my arm at the Retreat.
She wants to look at us and believe we’re a couple.
That we’re going to be in it for the long haul.
That we might have kids together one day. ”
The more he talks, the more surreal this conversation seems. My only response is to laugh nervously because I’m not sure what to say.
“What do you think?” he says. “I’ll pay you well. It’s like you said; on Halloween, we get to pretend. You pretend to belong to me. Who knows, you might even like it.”
“What do you think I am, Mr. Blackwell? Where do you think you are?”
He makes a show of looking around, becoming that rich douche again. Or maybe he never stopped being a douche. Perhaps he was just hiding it for a couple of minutes.
“An exhibition of pure talent,” he says smoothly.
“This isn’t a brothel, nor am I an escort. I don’t date men for money.”
“I’m not talking about dating, Aurora. I’m talking about pretending.”
“Even if I wanted to agree to this stupid idea, I can’t leave my grandmother. So, the answer is no.”
“Ten thousand would just be a down payment.”
I close my eyes and massage the bridge of my eyebrow. These people. They think they can buy everything. “I’m sure you’ve been able to purchase anything and anybody your entire life, but unfortunately, I’m not for sale.”
He reaches into his jacket pocket and takes out a business card. “In case you change your mind.”
“I won’t.”
“Take it anyway.” He holds it out, staring into my eyes with that complete attentiveness that’s somehow unnerving and flattering at the same time. “You really don’t enjoy doing what you’re told.”
Maybe there’s a world where I would enjoy doing what I’m told.
It would be a welcome break from having to feel like I’m in charge all the time.
But I’m not going to tell him that… and I’m certainly not going to be some na?ve woman who falls for his superficial charm and goes googly-eyed over dollar signs.
“I think we’re done, Mr. Blackwell. I’ll need the suit to make the adjustments.”
“I’ll get changed and bring the suit by later and pick it up later,” he says, still holding the card out.
I fold my arms, which seems like a pretty clear signal. Short of writing I’m Not Interested in oil then setting it on fire, I’m not sure what else I’m supposed to do.
The business card reads, Raiden Blackwell, Property Developer. He must be able to read my amusement. It’s easy to be anything when you’re born into absurd wealth.
“Something funny?” he asks.
“Nope.”
“Then I must be hallucinating.”
Only if he thinks I’m going to magically and miraculously become his personal plaything.
He tucks the business card back in his pocket. “See you around, Aurora.”