Chapter 25 #2
“Mr. Alarie, welcome to Noir.” A tall, slender woman with bright red, shoulder-length hair greets us.
Or rather, greets Mauro, as her attention remains solely on him.
And only him. She steps around the desk, her six-inch heels clacking on the marble floor.
“My name is Cordelia,” she says, her smile slow and deliberate, her gaze roaming over him in a way that makes my stomach twist with irritation. “How can I help you today?”
Mauro doesn’t acknowledge her stare. Instead, he nods toward me, his arm sliding firmly around my waist and drawing me into his side.
“I need a dress,” I tell her, my tone clipped.
Cordelia’s eyes finally land on me, the warmth draining instantly. She looks me over with open distaste, hazel eyes sharp and assessing. “And you are…?”
I grin wickedly, pressing my hand against Mauro’s chest, angling it just enough for the wedding band to catch the fluorescent light. “His wife.” I enunciate the word, leaving no room for error.
“Hmm.” The sound is dismissive, her smile turning thin. Without another glance, she pivots on her heel and strides away. “This way,” she calls over her shoulder.
I glance up at Mauro, his features tightening as his grip around me locks into place.
“Everything okay?”
He shakes his head, his hand finding mine, intertwining our fingers.
He closes his eyes briefly, drawing in a slow breath before releasing it.
When he opens them again, his expression is composed.
Without a word, he leads us forward, guiding me to the back of the store where our new friend disappeared.
I spot a fitting room with the drape partially open and step in front of it, peeking inside to make sure it’s empty. Looking around the space, I see so many beautiful dresses in an assortment of colors and styles. I don’t know how I’m going to choose which one is right for me.
“Here are a few options I think will work best for you.” Cordelia appears beside me, arms full of dresses, then slips past me into the fitting room to hang them.
When she emerges, there’s a knowing, wry smile on her lips.
“I’ll be right out here,” she says smoothly, already turning away.
“Keeping your husband company.” Her eyes flick toward me.
“If you need anything, just let me know.”
I return her smile with one of my own, tight and deliberate, fully aware of the game she’s playing, then pull the curtain closed behind me.
I face the dresses and begin to sort through them.
They’re all floor-length.
All long-sleeved.
All high-necked.
Every single one will cover me from head to toe.
My fingers curl into tight fists at my sides.
This bitch.
“Leave.” The word thunders on the other side of the curtain, Mauro’s rough voice sending my body on high alert.
I yank the curtain back just in time to see Mauro looming over Cordelia.
“Sir,” she stammers, eyes wide, color draining from her face. “I meant no offense. I was only suggesting drinks.”
He takes a step closer.
The shift in him is immediate and terrifying. His jaw is set hard, his expression dark and unrecognizable. A vein bulges along his neck as his hands clench at his sides, restrained fury radiating off him.
Cordelia doesn’t wait for another word.
She spins on her heels and all but flees toward the front of the store.
“Mauro,” I say softly as I approach him. I place my palm against his back, and I feel the tension in his body ease just a fraction beneath my touch. “What happened?”
He glances into the fitting room, his brows drawing together before he steps past me.
Inside, his hands move over the dresses, gripping the fabrics as he inspects them one by one.
Then, without warning, he gathers them all from the rack, turns, and strides out of the room, dropping them to the floor.
Oh shit.
“Mauro,” I whisper-shout. “Each one of those dresses costs thousands of dollars!”
He faces me with rage in his eyes, but immediately closes his lids and takes a deep, steady breath. When he opens them, his features soften as he signs, No one disrespects my wife.
My throat goes dry as my knees weaken.
“Mr. Alarie.” Another saleswoman approaches, glancing nervously between us. “Can I help you?”
“I’ve got this, Alice.” A beautiful older woman with short grey hair hurries toward us, clearly irritated as she adjusts her shoes.
“I would’ve been here sooner if these awful heels weren’t trying to kill me.
” Her annoyance melts the moment her eyes land on Mauro.
A gentle smile graces her perfect complexion.
“It’s been too long.” She places both hands on his arms and leans in, pressing a kiss to his cheek as a mother would.
“Cecilia tells me you boys have been keeping her busy.”
He nods, then steps back, sliding a possessive arm around my waist.
“Ah,” the woman says, her smile widening as her attention shifts to me. “You must be Mauro’s wife, Alina.” She offers me her hand. “I’m Lisa Noir.”
Lisa Noir. As in the very same designer this establishment is named after?
“It’s lovely to meet you,” I respond, a little starstruck.
She lets out a measured sigh, glancing around the boutique.
“I apologize for the level of service you’ve experienced today.
That’s not how things are done here.” Her attention returns to me, expression softening.
“But I can promise you, you’re in good hands now.
” She rubs her palms together, eyes sweeping over me with practiced precision.
Then her index finger lifts. “I know exactly what you need. Stay right here. I’ll be back.
” She strides away and disappears around the corner.
I shift my attention to Mauro. “Are you okay?”
He sighs. No.
“Do you want to tell me what got you so worked up?”
His brows draw together, tension rippling through him again. That woman disrespected you right in front of my face. Right in front of yours. His jaw tightens. And when you went into the room, she thought it was a good time to ask me to grab a drink with her.
“Oh,” I say quietly, dropping my gaze as I try to hide the sharp edge creeping into my voice. “I see.”
Who did that woman think she was, asking my husband out while I was only a few feet away? A tremble of fury courses through me. If she were here right now—
Two of his fingers slip beneath my chin, lifting my face until I’m forced to lock eyes with his. He drops his hand and signs, Only you.
My breath catches. Only me?
“What does that—”
“I’ve got the perfect dress for you, my dear,” Lisa announces proudly as she reappears at our side.
I turn, my lips parting as my eyes land on a dress that leaves me breathless. I reach out, lightly pinching the material between my fingers. It’s so soft and silky, it feels like butter against my skin.
“This is the one,” I whisper, somehow knowing this dress has the power to alter my story.