Chapter 4
Lia
Shell and I spent the afternoon hitting the boutiques on Main Street, searching for the perfect ensemble. The meeting with Raph this evening was vital for several reasons and deserved the additional effort.
I needed an outfit that said business, but whispered vixen. Dolling myself up for the first time in ages wouldn’t kill me. Even if it wasa business dinner. Not a date.
It was a business dinner and only a business dinner.
Right?
I couldn’t focus on the outfit hunting. My mind kept drinking back to Raph. His face crippled my mind, streamlined it straight to him. Mystery Guy. Was there a way to ask someone if they kissed you up a tree for no reason nearly fifteen years ago? How would one approach a subject like that at a business meeting? Or at all?
I couldn’t. It was preposterous.
“Oh, this one is FAB-U-LOUS!”
Shell held out a black sheath dress with three-quarter sleeves, a turtle-neck, and risqué lace cutouts. It was far more lurid than the other dresses in my closet at home.
I wrinkled my nose as I appraised the selection. “That’s quite a dress. I don’t think I could pull it off. It’s more you, don’t you think?”
“You say that about everything I pick that’s pretty. At least try it on. Puh-leeze?” Shell was smiling and holding the hanger out, not backing down.
“You don’t think it’s a bit much for the occasion?” I scrutinized like I had with every option we’d considered through the afternoon. But Shell had reached the rejection limit.
“She’ll be needing a fitting room!” She turned to the sales associate, grinning.
The sales associate walked us to the fitting rooms around the back wall. I looked from the dress to Shell.
“It’s more your style than mine.” My words didn’t even convince me.
“Stop it with that. You cover up all the time. This doesn’t really show anything. Now get in there! Then you can see why every woman needs at least one LBD.”
Shell pressed me to the wall of my safety. I had always admired her extroversion and how comfortable she was in her skin. She landed her dream job straight out of school because of that easiness. Partying and social outings didn’t slow her down, either. She was always on top of her stuff.
The dress choice was worth a shot, at the least. I needed to exit my comfort zone if I ever wanted more. Looking at the morning’s events proved it. And I wanted more now than ever; there was a lot on table.
Living life in my bubble was comfortable, and I rarely made a fuss. I was a quiet child, and a quiet adult.
Making a fuss gave people what they wanted. The squeaky wheel gets the oil, or so the saying goes. But could I be a squeaky wheel? Shell didn’t struggle to pull in jobs or men, and this scenario potentially offered both. If I could just wear the damn dress and strut like I owned it.
Inside the dressing room stall, I took a deep breath and slid the dress from its hanger. The fabric felt luxurious, not suffocating, and worth every penny.
“Shell, can you help me with the zipper?” I asked as I cracked the door.
“Absolutely, babe, here.”
Shell turned me, gripping my shoulder and closed the zipper. She pulled me out of the stall as soon as the final tooth found its place, letting out a delighted squeak and clasping her hands.
“You can’t tell me you aren’t obsessed with this dress! It’s perfect. Just look at you!”
Even the sales associate nodded her approval. I eyed myself in the huge mirror propped against the wall of the boutique, twisting and checking every angle. The dress fit like a glove. It drew attention to my femininity, my slight curves. It wasn’t nearly as ostentatious as I’d originally thought. I looked good. Better than good.
And if Raphael liked me in a sweater and pencil skirt, this would knock him out cold. And that thought sold the dress.
“You know what? You’re right. Nothing wrong with a little lapse on inhibition. Little Black Dress it is.”
No more second best, no more sidelines. All signs pointed to a big break; with my career, with a man sexier than any I’d laid eyes on. Signs didn’t get any clearer.
Raphael Teresse owned some well-known lounges in NYC, so the job opportunity was tremendous. I would do everything in my power to make this happen for him. For me. If I waited for Derrick to hand me the opportunity, it would never come.
Shell and I left Main Street after buying the dress, some shoes, two pairs of earrings, and having lunch at our favorite crepe place. My best friend was nothing if not the most supportive friend anyone could ask for. Always full of excitement, joy, and vivacious life. Without her, I wouldn’t be strutting into my maybe life-changing meeting with nearly as much style or confidence.
I had less than an hour to get ready when we got home. There was work to be done.
I put on the new dress, black patent stilettos, and silver and crystal chandelier earrings. A swipe of lipstick and another coat of mascara, and I felt polished. Professional, but provocative and compelling, too. Lia: new and improved. New Lia tossed away coy modesty, or at least hung it neatly in the closet with her other sensible things. It was still a substantial step in the right direction.
I pulled my hair free from its morning style and let it tumble over my shoulders and down my arms. That was the final touch. Literally and figuratively letting my hair down felt like the freedom I needed from my own strict rule. I felt powerful, sexy, glamorous.
My phone buzzed on top of the dresser, startling me from the internal pep talk. The name on the screen drew a groan from my lips. I so didn’t need this.
“Hey, Mom. How are you?”
“I’ve definitely been better,” my mom sniffed.
“I’d love to catch up, but now isn’t a good—”
“Oh, I should have known. Of course. The busy Amelia never has time for her mother. You never come home. You hardly give me the time of day. The woman who made you. I thought I raised you better.”
She continued the guilt trip while I tried to tune it out until it ended. The real reason she called still hung in the air like mysterious fog. As the tirade lengthened, guilt turned to annoyance. We seldom talked, but she preferred that as much as me. We didn’t get alone much when I was younger, and our relationship only grew more strained after Henry’s accident. We had counted down the moments until we could go our separate ways.
“I don’t know how much free time I have coming up, Mom. I have a meeting with a client tonight. I might get my first big job out of this.”
Mom scoffed. Scoffed. My shoulders drooped even though I should have been used to her blasé responses to my accomplishments.
“Did you have a reason to call? I’m not trying to brush you off; it’s just I really don’t have a lot of time. Do you want me to come home for a visit?”
“I shouldn’t have to ask, should I? Honestly, Amelia. You know my health has been worse. Do you check on me? No. Do you even call? No.”
“Okay, Mom. Okay. You’re right. I’ll come see you soon.”
“This weekend.”
“I—”
She ended the call before I could finish.
“I’ll do my best,” I muttered to myself on a defeated sigh.
Tears stung the backs of my eyes, and I furiously blinked them away to preserve the sultry makeup. A visit to see Mom was a trying task, one I’d neglected every opportunity since I left for college. My childhood home and surviving family were the stuff of nightmares.
The intercom for my building crackled. The driver was waiting downstairs. Shell told him it would only be another minute, and she approached my bedroom door. No more time for sadness. I’d figure out the situation with mom as soon as I could.
“Hey, gorgeous woman! Your chariot awaits. Look at you. I won’t wait up.” Shell wiggled her brows, grinning.
I did look amazing, quite unlike Lia from this morning, or any other time. Always Plain Jane, never the one in the striking dress and killer heels.
Shell walked me out into the kitchen and helped me into my grey tweed peacoat so I didn’t mess up my hair. I gave her a nervous and grateful hug.
“You’re shaking! Stop. You got this, Lia. I mean it. Go get you a man.”
“Job!”
Shell chuckled. “Have fun. Promise?”
My body hummed as I walked down the stairs and out into the parking lot. Being alone with Raph had my senses in overdrive. It was the way he looked at me this morning. I wanted more.
Brisk air caught my hair as I reached the car and driver.
“Good evening, Miss Hall.” He had the door open for me.
“Where are we headed?” I asked the older gentleman as he pulled out of the lot.
“Mr. Teresse has made reservations for the two of you at La Bistrot downtown, ma’am.”
He picked an intimate setting. I had assumed he would choose something younger and trendier; check out his local competition, although I had never been to one of his clubs. Maybe La Bistrot was the competition. I didn’t yet know what I was dealing with.
Raphael stood by the door of the restaurant when we arrived. His navy blue suit brought warmth out of his skin, and his stately posture gave me a buzz. The man held undeniable appeal. I couldn’t unglue my eyes even as my heart hammered.
“Hi.” I approached with my hand extended. This was a business dinner, and I needed to remember that.
His large hand enveloped mine and drew it to his mouth, lightly brushing his lips against the tops of my fingers. I could feel his breath on me, and it warmed me through.
“Thank you for meeting me this evening. We have plenty to review,” he said, holding up a manila folder. He still held my hand.
I nodded, and he looped his arm through mine, guiding me through the doors of La Bistrot. I took careful steps beside him, tense. The dinner was nerve-racking. If I wasn’t so preoccupied with anxiety, excitement would flood my senses and make me loopy. Dinner with a man like this? Dream career on dinner’s heels? Gotta get me some of that.
The hostess led us back to a secluded table lit only with candles and sophisticated crystal lights on long, varied chains. The ambiance whispered romance, and the world around us hushed. Mr. Teresse put in a drink order as he took his seat.
I sat, too, and smoothed my new dress, then peered across the table at my potential new boss. The most striking man I’d ever seen.
Lock down the star-struck feeling, Lia.
“Shall we jump right in?” I eyed the folder still clutched in his hand.
“We brushed over what I’m looking for at your… let’s call it impromptu, pitch this morning. Allow me to be more clear.” His unwavering gaze pinned me in place. “I need diligence. A strong, unrelenting drive toward perfection. I need to see who you are. In person and design.”
His face was friendly, but the words pierced straight through my cool facade like a white-hot dart. So direct.
Somewhere along the way, I lost enough calm poise to grab his attention. Why else would he tell me to be myself? We hadn’t begun, and I was already messing this up.
“I’m glad you’re giving me the chance to show my stuff. I know I can deliver. You say you want diligence. I can and will deliver until the newest Experience is open for business. I have a lot of ideas to bring your vision to life. You have me for as long as you need me.” I paused. “Or want me.”
I locked my gaze with his and held for a beat, two, three. The scent of his cologne and his painfully masculine face intoxicated me. Heat flared in my cheeks as I realized I tipped the scale from confident to flirtatious, but I didn’t glance away. It was already done.
Was he who I thought he was? That question burned behind my lips, but I didn’t dare ask. It wasn’t appropriate, even for the new me.
The appetizer and bottle of Chardonnay arrived before Raphael could say more. He raised his glass to toast me, face cordial but unreadable.
“To new beginnings.”