Chapter 35
F eeling overwhelmed after the encounter with Wendy, I reach for my phone, desperate to talk to Adam about what just happened. But call after call goes unanswered, and my texts remain without reply. Each passing minute fuels my frustration and anxiety. I need to talk to him.
In a moment of desperation, I call Adam’s assistant.
“Can you get Adam on the line?”
“I wish I could. We have these rules about interrupting his meetings. He’s with Tier One people right now, which has a firm do not disturb rule.”
I huff in frustration but feel somewhat comforted he’s not ignoring me. “Sorry. I’m not trying to get you fired. I’m feeling overwhelmed about what happened—and unprepared for tonight.”
“We’ve never set rules for,” Allison hesitates, “significant others,” she says very matter-of-factly.
Right. I’m not his girlfriend. I’m just some girl he brought to Chicago to fuck? Spiraling, Allison’s words break my intrusive thoughts.
“When I started working here, he and Wendy were in the process of getting divorced and only spoke through their attorneys.”
I start pacing, overwhelmed by my day so far.
“Unprepared,” she says after a moment. “Did you not bring anything to wear?”
“I could make something work, but it’s One. I should wear a dress that doesn’t look like I came from the office, you know?”
“Oh! I got you!” Her tone is warm and excited. “Adam’s stylist Nikola is awesome. She will take care of you. Let me call her.”
Stylist? Adam has a stylist? “That’s okay. I can go to Nordstrom Rack or something. I have enough time.”
She giggles. “Adam has an account with her. I’m not suggesting you use your own money.”
“Are you sure that’s okay?”
“Absolutely! And he fucking owes you after what happened. I’ll have a car pick you up at his place in, like, thirty minutes?”
“I’m feeling very spoiled,” I joke, trying to make this whole scene light. “Will I see you at the office tomorrow? It will be great to meet you.”
“That is one of the few days I’m taking off this year. It’s my mom’s birthday. I’m sure we will meet soon, and I have a conference room at the office blocked off for you all day tomorrow.”
Sitting in a black SUV, I’m whisked away to Saks to meet Adam’s stylist, Nikola. I’m grateful, yet the whole situation feels surreal. I wish I could talk to Adam.
“Dani!” waves a striking, tall, beautiful woman with Eastern European features as I step out of the SUV. “I’m Nikola.” I hear a Russian accent.
“Nice to meet you.”
“We have no time to waste,” she scurries us into the store and into a large fitting room.
“Step one, let me measure you.” A cloth tape measure appears out of nowhere, and she swiftly says, “Thirty-two. Twenty-seven. Thirty-eight. Do you want me to pull for you, or do you want to walk around the store with me so I can see your style?”
“Either way.” I shrug.
“You’re so cute. Let’s walk around.” She guides me, making faces at dresses she does not like, and I smile. “One. Have you been?” I shake my head no. “You will love it.”
I don’t want to overstep, yet my mind is more curious about if Nikola ever styled Wendy. Has Adam ever had another girl get styled by her? Was this, like, his thing? “How long have you been working with Adam?” I ask.
“Years. He’s my best client.”
“Why’s that?”
“I buy. He wears.” She smiles. She’s clearly fond of Adam.
“He always looks good, so thank you.” I laugh.
“It’s very easy to style him; he could be a model. I would know. I played that game when I was younger.” She’s maybe a couple of years older than me and so striking.
“Did you do anything I would have seen?”
Nikola launches into career stories from her modeling days as we walk around looking at dresses. Her humor about transitioning from modeling to personal styling is a welcome distraction from my moment with Wendy.
“I don’t know about that one,” I say as she grabs a Carolina Herrera dress.
“Too boring?”
“No. It’s too expensive.”
She chuckles deeply. Like I said something so amusing to her. “You are a very special girl. Don’t look at the price tags.”
“Could we find, like, normal priced ones?” My request for more affordable dresses is met with even more laughter.
“You are so funny, Dani.” Her accent is really strong at this moment. “As long as you look beautiful, Adam will be happy.”
“We haven’t talked about this sort of stuff yet. Like, I don’t know what’s appropriate.”
“He spends over six figures a season on his closet. You’re fine. I promise. If he says anything, it’s my fault for styling you poorly, not yours.”
Adam’s world. It’s overwhelming.
“Do you want a glass of champagne?” Her arm gently lands on my shoulder. “You look stressed.”
Between Wendy, this experience, and what’s ahead, “Yes!” I say with need.
Back in the fitting room, we have at least ten dresses hanging.
Each one is unique in its own way. Trying them on, I can’t deny the thrill of being in designer names I’ve only ever read about.
This experience continues to underscore how different Adam’s world is from mine.
It’s a far cry from my stay-at-home daughter situation.
“I would fuck you in that dress,” she says after I try on another option. Nikola’s commentary is priceless. “Too sexy for tonight. Pass.”
Zipping up another, a sleek number with a lot of cutouts, I joke, “Does this one come with instructions?”
“Only to walk with confidence and break a few hearts,” she shoots back. I like her. Nikola is definitely someone I could be friends with. Taking a sip of the champagne, I stuff down how bizarre the last few hours have been.
“Hottie!” she says as I put on a satin dress. “But satin is no good for tonight.”
I cock my head, not understanding.
“You sit for hours. Then, you stand up, wrinkles everywhere. It will look terrible,” she explains.
Swept up in her energy, I nearly forgot the whirlwind of emotions I was experiencing.
“Now, sit in this one,” Nikola instructs after I slip into an elegant dress.
I look at her, puzzled. “Sit?”
She laughs. “You’re dining at One. It’s not just a meal; it’s an experience. You’ll be sitting for at least three hours. You need to be comfortable. Is it too tight in the hips?”
Sitting in the chair in the fitting room, Nikola’s eyes stare at me like we’re making a serious decision, far more serious than what dress I should wear to dinner. I laugh at the exchange and the practicality of her advice. “Sitting, yes. It’s too tight in the hips.”
I would never have thought about that, and I’m happy she’s concerned about the fashion and function of it all.
In a maroon dress that hugs me without being too tight, I sit down. Nikola nods in approval. “See? You look stunning, and you’ll be comfortable!”
I admire myself in the mirror, still trying to wrap my head around the evening ahead.
As Nikola brings in shoes and accessories, I’m caught between excitement for the evening and a growing sense of unease.
“Have you ever done this before?” I ask hesitantly. “For one of Adam’s dates.”
“Dates.” She laughs. “He doesn’t date. Like I said, you are a very special girl.”
A smirk grows on my face, loving that this experience is unique for all parties involved.
Examining the dress I’m wearing paired with black strappy heels, Nikola asks, “And what about your hair and makeup for tonight?”
I shrug. “I guess I could straighten my hair and do a smokey eye or something.”
Nikola scoffs, “Absolutely not. You need something more fitting for One and this dress. Let me make some calls.”
She pulls out her phone and starts speaking in rapid Russian. I watch her, fascinated by her confidence and assertiveness. After a couple of minutes, she ends the call and turns back to me with a satisfied smile. “They’ll meet you at Adam’s.”
I’m taken aback, not only by her efficiency, but also by the fact that she knows where Adam lives. I guess it makes sense for a high-profile client like him to have in-home styling appointments. But a fleeting thought crosses my mind—have they ever hooked up?
Pushing the thought aside, I focus on the present. “Thank you.”
She waves her hand dismissively, as if it were nothing. “It’s my job.”
Adam’s Chicago life, his real life, it’s a world where money is no object. Hopefully, at least. What I’m wearing tonight is so expensive. Adam and I have a lot to talk about. We need to put some guardrails on our relationship.