Chapter Eight
Raina
Standing in front of the full-length mirror in the dressing room, I smoothed my hand down the front of the evening gown I wore, studying my reflection with a critical eye.
This was the fifth dress I’d tried on, and so far, it was my favorite by a wide margin.
The sapphire blue fabric brought out the color of my eyes and contrasted beautifully against my fair skin.
The fit was impeccable—an off-the-shoulder bodice that did wonderful things for my cleavage, leading into a sleek, floor-length silhouette that hugged my curves in a way that felt both sophisticated and undeniably alluring.
I could picture Simon’s gaze traveling over me in this dress. The thought sent goosebumps racing across my bare shoulders.
Not that it matters if he likes how I look, I reminded myself firmly.
As long as I was dressed appropriately for the gala, that was all that counted.
This was a work event and certainly not a date.
Simon had even given me a company credit card to buy a dress, which was why I was standing in this upscale boutique while my best friend, Wren, lounged on a velvet chaise and sipped complimentary champagne in the outer area while I changed.
She’d offered her opinion on every dress so far, so I stepped out of the dressing room to get her verdict on this one.
The moment I came into view, Wren’s eyes went wide and she let out a low whistle. “You’re going to give your boss a heart attack if you wear that.”
Heat crept into my cheeks. More mirrors surrounded a small platform out here, offering views from multiple angles, and I stepped up onto the pedestal. “Is it too much for a work function?”
“It’s a black-tie gala at a Manhattan hotel.” Wren rose from the chaise and walked up behind me, her reflection appearing over my shoulder. “I’m not sure too much exists for that kind of event.”
She’d come straight from her office, still dressed in a sharp business suit with her dark hair smoothed back in a sensible bun.
She looked every bit the responsible, put-together attorney she presented herself as in the courtroom.
No one would guess that she’d spent last weekend belting out Cyndi Lauper tunes at karaoke while downing flaming Sambuca shots like it was an Olympic sport.
My bestie was wild in the best possible way.
Loud and opinionated, but fiercely loyal.
She worked brutal hours as a contract lawyer during the week and used her weekends to decompress with a vengeance.
We’d been friends for nearly a decade, since our senior year in high school, and while my family was wonderful, Wren was my ride or die.
“I just don’t want Simon to think I’ve gone overboard,” I said, checking out my backside. There was an obvious panty line from my cotton underwear, which meant I’d need to opt for something different the night of the gala. A thong, probably.
Too bad no one would see it.
The thought arrived unbidden, and my blush deepened as my imagination ran away with me. Simon’s hands finding the zipper at my back. The fabric falling to my feet. His eyes darkening as he discovered what I was wearing underneath—
Desire pooled low in my belly at the thought, because I secretly wanted him to look at me like that.
I wanted to see hunger break through that carefully maintained composure of his.
Simon was focused and professional to a fault, but there were moments—brief, electric moments—when I caught glimpses of more beneath the surface.
Heat flickering in his green eyes. A tension in his jaw that suggested restraint.
I wanted to see his walls crumble, and I wanted to be the one who made it happen.
It was all a fantasy in my head, of course. None of that was ever going to happen because he was my boss.
“How much is this gown, anyway?” I asked, desperate to redirect my thoughts.
The dresses here didn’t have visible price tags, which was either an aesthetic choice or a strategy to encourage interaction with sales associates.
Regardless, that lack of transparency made me nervous.
This silk gown probably cost a small fortune, and it seemed excessive to spend so much on something I might never wear again.
“Didn’t your boss tell you to spend whatever was necessary?” Wren asked, reminding me of what I’d told her when we’d first arrived.
“Yes, but—”
“And didn’t he recommend this place?”
I sighed. “He called his sister-in-law, Fallon, for a recommendation.” Fallon was married to Simon’s other brother, Noah. “He might not have realized how expensive everything would be.”
Wren’s lips twitched. “Isn’t he rich?”
I turned away from the mirrors to face her. “Do you always have to be so reasonable?”
She laughed. “I’m afraid so. Now, what do you think of this dress? Have we found the one?”
My heart fluttered at the idea of actually wearing this gown to the gala. I’d never attended an event like this before, but I knew that walking in wearing this dress would make a statement and fill me with confidence.
“I think so,” I said, trying to convince myself while suppressing a wince at the thought of Simon seeing the charge on his credit card statement. I was too practical and just couldn’t help it.
“Perfect!” Wren tipped back her champagne flute to drain the rest of the sparkling liquid. “Now we need to find you shoes.”
I bit my bottom lip. “Maybe I should just wear ones I already own. I have black heels that would work.”
“A woman can never have too many shoes.” Wren set down her empty glass with a decisive clink. “And I really don’t understand why you feel guilty about this. Your boss sounds intense and demanding. In my opinion, he owes you a nice dress.”
That bluntness was typical Wren, and I was starting to regret sharing some of the more stressful aspects of my job with her.
Yes, Simon’s task lists were long, but I liked it that way.
I thrived on staying busy, and there was deep satisfaction in leaving the office each day knowing I’d accomplished everything he’d asked of me.
“He’s not that bad,” I said with surprising conviction.
“He sounds exhausting. All those tasks he assigns you every day?” She pursed her lips. “It almost seems like he’s testing you.”
In all honesty, I suspected Wren was right.
At least in the beginning. It hadn’t escaped my notice how he’d hovered those first few days, as if waiting for me to fail.
When I didn’t, his surprise was almost palpable.
I wasn’t sure if he was simply an uptight micromanager or if past experiences had given him reason to doubt people, but he’d relaxed somewhat after I’d proven I could handle the workload.
I still wasn’t sure he fully trusted me, though. “I like the job,” I said, meaning it. “It’s challenging, and an easy job would be boring.”
“And your boss?” She arched a knowing brow. “Do you like him?” Her lips curved into a slow, sly smile that told me she already suspected the answer.
If this were anyone else, I’d deflect. But this was Wren.
“Simon is… complicated.” I chose my words carefully.
“He seems like a uptight grump on the surface, but there’s more to him.
He’d probably deny it, but I’ve seen glimpses.
” I paused, considering how to explain. “Did you know we’re not just attending this gala for business?
Simon is donating a significant amount to the charity—anonymously.
” I knew this because he’d had me send the funds via Silent Donor out of his own personal account.
“Instead of using it for publicity or even crediting the company, he’s just… quietly helping people.”
Wren looked thoughtful. “I suppose he’s not completely terrible, then. For a wealthy businessman.”
“He’s not terrible at all.” The defensive edge in my voice caught me off guard and I quickly softened my tone.
“He’s more than just a businessman. He’s close with his family.
A few days ago, I reminded him about his twin nieces’ upcoming birthday party, expecting him to send me out to buy a gift.
But he insisted on doing it himself. He wanted it to be personal. ”
Wren didn’t respond immediately, just studied me with that sharp, calculating gaze that always made me feel like she could see straight through me.
“He’s just intense about work,” I continued with a shrug, filling the silence. “It matters to him, so he has high standards. That’s not a bad thing.”
The sales associate, Diana, approached then, a perfectly timed interruption. She’d helped us when we’d arrived and provided Wren’s champagne, then had given us space to browse.
“That dress is stunning on you,” she said with a bright, professional smile. “Is this the one you’d like to purchase?”
I offered a weak smile in return, suddenly having second thoughts. “I think I should probably text my boss before I buy it, just to confirm that the price is okay.”
Wren made a disapproving noise, but I ignored her.
“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” Diana said. “Mr. Powers called ahead before you arrived. He specifically asked me to help you find a complete outfit for the gala.” She paused, looking slightly embarrassed. “I’m sorry—I thought you knew.”
I blinked, processing this information. “What exactly did he say?”
“He wanted to make sure you were properly outfitted for the event, no matter the cost. His words.”
“You heard the woman, Raina.” Wren’s grin turned smug. “That means shoes too.”
“Of course,” Diana agreed, and the gleam in her eye suggested she was already calculating the commission. “What size do you wear? I’ll start pulling options right away.”
“Size eight,” Wren answered for me. We’d worn the same size for years and regularly borrowed each other’s shoes.
The associate hurried off, and Wren turned to me with a knowing look. “So. Your boss is wealthy, generous enough to buy you an expensive gown and shoes without blinking, and—according to you—secretly a softie—”
“That’s not what I said,” I interjected, but she talked right over me.