Chapter 12
THEA
Lara is laying out makeup brushes like surgical tools when there’s a knock at the door.
“That’ll be Valentina,” she explains when she sees the confused look on my face. “Did I forget to mention her? We’re not just pulling something off the rack for you, babe. We’re doing this right.”
“Valentina?”
“Valentina Russo. She’s a designer. She does custom work for half the women in New York. Gabriel called in a favor.”
My stomach flips. “He what?”
Before I can protest, Lara’s already opening the door.
A striking woman sweeps in, late thirties, wearing all black, her dark hair pulled into a severe bun. She’s carrying three garment bags and radiates the kind of confidence in her own skin that I can only dream about.
“Lara, ciao,” she says, kissing her on both cheeks.” Then she turns to me, her sharp eyes assessing. “And you must be Teodora.”
“Thea,” I correct.
“Thea.” She sets the garment bags on the bed with reverence. “Gabriel tells me that you need something spectacular. I brought options.”
“I–I don’t know if I can—”
“Can what?” she asks, peering at me from behind her thick red-framed glasses. “Wear a dress?” She shakes her head, the faintest whisper of a smile appearing at the corners of her mouth. “I assure you, you can. Now, let me see you. Turn.”
I turn awkwardly, feeling like a specimen under a microscope.
She circles me, humming softly. “Beautiful structure. Gorgeous proportions. And that skin—mamma mia. You’ll look stunning in jewel tones.”
“I’m not really—” I start, but she’s already unzipping the first garment bag.
“This,” she says, pulling out an emerald-green gown that shimmers like liquid. “This will make men weep.”
Lara whistles. “Oh, yeah. I think this is the one.”
“There are two others,” Valentina says. “But we try this first, si? Into the closet.”
I’m standing in the walk-in closet, staring at myself in the full-length mirror, when I hear the door to my room open.
It’s a male voice, low and familiar.
“Is she decent?”
“Define decent,” Lara calls back, laughing.
Oh God.
Gabriel is here in my room while I’m half-naked and trying to figure out how to zip myself into a dress that probably costs more than everything in my apartment put together. I gulp, suddenly wanting to hide, to dive into the racks of clothes and never come out.
What the hell is wrong with me?
“Lara,” I hiss through the closet door, “what is he doing here?”
“Watching the show, apparently. Come on—let’s see it.”
I look down at the emerald gown. It’s beautiful—off-shoulder, fitted bodice that hugs every curve, with a flowing skirt that pools at my feet like melted jade. But it also leaves nothing to the imagination.
My arms, my shoulders, the swell of my breasts, the curves of my waist and hips—everything that I’ve spent my whole life hiding—is all on total and complete display.
“I don’t know.”
“Thea.” Valentina’s voice is firm, but kind. “Trust me. Come out.”
I take a deep breath, then open the door.
Gabriel is sitting in the armchair near the window, one ankle crossed over his knee. He’s completely relaxed. He’s still in the same trousers from earlier in the day, but his jacket is gone, his tie loosened, and his shirtsleeves are rolled to his elbows.
He looks up when I emerge, and then he goes completely still.
“Dio,” Valentina breathes. “I knew it.”
I stand there, frozen, my arms moving instinctively to cover myself before Lara moves over and gently pushes them down.
“No hiding,” she says. “You look way too hot for that. Let him see.”
Gabriel’s gaze travels slowly from my face down to my feet and back up again. His jaw is tight, his knuckles practically white from where they grip the armrest.
But he doesn’t say anything. He just looks.
“Well?” Valentina prompts. “What do you think, Gabriel?”
“Turn around,” he says. There’s a roughness to his voice, as if he’s barely able to keep himself in check.
I hesitate, then I turn, the skirt swirling around my legs.
His silence stretches.
Then he takes a long, slow draw of breath.
“Green is good,” he says finally. “But show me the others.”
The second dress is navy blue—sleek and sophisticated, with a high slit that makes me feel like a femme fatale in an old movie. Valentina adjusts the straps, commenting about how the cut accentuates my waist. I try not to think about the way Gabriel’s eyes tracked the slit when I walked out.
The third dress is a lovely burgundy—deep, rich, appearing almost black in the low light of the walk-in. It has long sleeves, a plunging neckline, and is fitted through the hips before flaring slightly at the knees.
“No, this one,” Valentina says, wagging her finger at me. “This is the one. Dio, you look like a vision.”
I look at myself in the mirror, barely recognizing the woman staring back at me.
She’s not invisible, not apologizing for taking up space, not trying to hide herself under baggy clothes, hoping no one notices the curves. She’s—
“Stunning,” Gabriel says.
I turn.
He’s standing now, hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable, except for the heat in his eyes.
“You look stunning, Thea.”
My throat tightens. “It’s just the dress.”
“No.” The word comes out with an intense finality, like he’s not open to any kind of discussion on the matter.
He crosses the room, stopping just close enough so that I have to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. “You’re beautiful in anything you wear. The uniform. An oversized t-shirt. In…”
He trails off, but I know the words on his mind.
In nothing at all.
Lara snickers. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Valentina smirk.
I can’t breathe.
He raises his finger. “But the right dress,” he goes on, “shows the world what I already know—that you’re the most stunning woman in any room you walk into.”
“Wow,” says Lara, a playful smile on her lips. “Thanks, cuz.”
“Gabriel…” I trail off, not knowing what to say.
“Do you know what I see when I look at you?” As he speaks, he reaches out, his fingers grazing my bare shoulder. I shiver at his touch. “Softness. Strength. Every curve exactly where it should be. You think you need to hide, Thea, but all I want is to show you off.”
There’s something odd about the way he’s speaking to me. It’s not only intense, but also a little hard to handle. It’s like he’s speaking to me as if he’s known me longer than just a few days, like he’s more aware of me than I understand.
Or maybe he’s just seeing something I’m not.
“Sorry, I’m just not used to this.”
“I know.” His hand moves to cup my face, his thumb brushing my cheekbone. “But you will be. Because I’m going to spend every day reminding you of how fucking beautiful you are until you believe it.”
Valentina clears her throat delicately. “So the burgundy then?”
Gabriel doesn’t look away from me. “The burgundy.”
“Perfetto.” She starts gathering up the other dresses. “I’ll have the alterations done in an hour. Lara, you handle hair and makeup, si?”
“On it.”
They both slip out, leaving Gabriel and me alone.
I should step back, put some distance between us. I need to remind myself that this is all just pretend, that I’m still his property, still planning to escape the first chance I get.
But when he looks at me like I’m something precious instead of something purchased, like I’m something more than this whole insane arrangement would suggest, I forget all about escaping.
“Are you nervous?” His tone is quiet, careful almost.
“About tonight? You bet I am.”
“Don’t be. You’ll be with me. No one will touch you. No one will even dare to look at you the wrong way.”
“And if they do?”
His grin is malevolent. “They’ll regret it.”
I believe him.
“Why are you doing all of this?” I ask. “The dress, the event… what’s the point?”
He’s quiet for a moment, as if giving the question serious thought. Then he leans down, his mouth close enough to my ear to cause goosebumps to erupt on my arms.
“Because I want the world to see what’s mine,” he says. “And I want you to see yourself the way I see you—strong, beautiful, unbreakable.”
He pulls back, his gaze holding mine.
“Now, time for Lara to work her magic. We leave in two hours.”
He walks to the door, pausing before leaving.
“Thea?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For saying yes.”
Then he’s gone.
I stand there in the burgundy gown, my reflection staring back at me. What is it he sees that I don’t? How is it that he seems to be able to look right inside of me, see the person I’ve always hoped I was, but never thought I’d be?
I look at my reflection. Really look at it. For the first time in a long time, I don’t hate what I see.
I look powerful. Beautiful.
And I like it.