Chapter 28
FABIANA
Tink. Tink. Tink.
I was convinced that tinkling sound would haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life.
The sea of rhinestones on the floor around me just kept growing. My reflection stared back at me from the mirrors lining the walls of the accessible bathroom I’d locked myself in. The mirrors confirmed that with so many of the rhinestones gone, I didn’t look decent from any angle.
My earlier panic had dulled into a resigned kind of despair.
Why didn’t I just listen to Cosimo when he warned me about Anthony? I’d ignored him, so sure he was just being condescending and dismissive of a misunderstood artist.
But he’d judged Anthony exactly right. Beautiful or not, what was the point of a dress if it didn’t last through the night?
I let out a low sigh. Music and the sound of people talking filtered through the door at an escalating volume. I couldn’t stay here forever. Eventually, someone would need to use the bathroom, and really, there was no point in delaying the inevitable.
I had to get back out there. Hopefully, I’d be able to slip away without people looking at me too closely. Cosimo’s jacket covered most of me, which was a relief. I just wanted to get home, crawl into bed, and not poke my head out for a week or two.
I dug inside my purse for my phone. I’d text Cosimo and let him know I was leaving. He was probably furious with me. I thought he might come find me by now, but it had been at least fifteen minutes since I ran from him, and he hadn’t even texted.
Hurt flickered inside my chest.
No. I didn’t get to feel sorry for myself. This was all my fault.
I began to type that I was going to take a taxi home.
KNOCK KNOCK.
Shit. I grabbed Cosimo’s jacket from where I’d left it on the counter and pressed it against my front. “Just one moment!”
“It’s me.”
Cosimo. I rushed to the door to let him in. “I was just about to text you. I—” As he stepped inside, my eyes widened on the garment bag slung over his arm. “What’s that?”
He locked the door behind him, an air of annoyance wafting off him. “Your new dress. Put it on so we can have a drink and forget this ever happened.”
“What?” I asked, stunned. “Where did you get that?”
“Lost and found.”
I frowned. “How is that possible? Someone lost a dress?”
His gaze flashed. “Nettle, do you think I asked? Who gives a fuck how it ended up there. Just see if it fits.”
He didn’t need to tell me twice. I swapped the jacket in my arms for the garment bag, pulled on the zipper, and peeked inside.
“You’re kidding.” The dress was beautiful. I took it out completely and held it out in front of me, studying the details.
“This was in lost and found?” I shot him a skeptical glance, but he wasn’t looking at the dress. He was looking at me.
Cosimo’s gaze carved a heated path down my barely covered body, and when he met my eyes again, there was something distinctly hungry in his expression.
I pressed the dress to my front, remembered the salty taste of his sweat against my tongue, and the way I lay in bed that night with my hand between my legs, imagining what might’ve happened if I’d stayed in the sauna and pissed him off some more.
“Nettle, I beg you.” His voice had roughened around the edges. “Get dressed.”
I swallowed. “Turn around.”
He did, giving me a view of his back as I peeled Anthony’s dress—or what remained of it—off my body.
At the sound of it crashing to the ground, Cosimo’s shoulders rose a fraction.
He seemed annoyed, but not as angry as I’d expected him to be after I’d managed to turn the evening into a disaster within five minutes of arriving.
In fact, I had a hunch he was using his irritation to mask something softer. More dangerous.
I was starting to suspect my fake husband might feel something for me.
I didn’t know how deep those feelings went—probably not very—or whether he had any intention of acknowledging them. I wasn’t even sure he understood them himself. Cosimo was too good at burying things he didn’t want to feel.
But his mask of indifference had started to slip.
And it terrified me how much I liked discovering what lived underneath.
“I’m sorry, Cosimo.” I pulled the aquamarine gown on. It slid smoothly over my hips. “I could’ve gone home. Escaped through a back door.”
“You need to remember who the fuck you are, Fabiana.” His voice was low. “You’re my wife. You came here on my arm, and you’re going to leave on it. Through the front, head held high.”
I halted, my heart fighting against my rib cage. Something warm, soft, and gooey unfurled inside my chest.
“Does it fit?”
I moved again, tugging the sleeves into place. “I think so. I need you to zip me up.” I walked up to the counter and saw him turn in the mirror.
His eyes landed on me. A vein in his throat pulsed.
Heat climbed up my neck as his gaze sharpened like a predator’s. He stepped toward me, stopping right behind me. His broad body towered over mine, close enough for the scent of his cologne to slip over my skin.
I pulled my lipstick from my purse and leaned over the sink.
His fingers found the zipper at the base of my spine at the exact moment the lipstick touched my mouth.
The first tug stole my breath.
Our gazes caught in the mirror. The air in the room had become taut, like a pulled string.
I dragged the color over my bottom lip as he drew the zipper up, inch by inch, his knuckles grazing the bare skin of my back with every slow pull.
The pressure was light, almost nothing. But my body reacted the way it might if he’d carved that languid path with his tongue.
Heat flooded my veins, making my hand nearly tremble.
His gaze dropped to my lips in the mirror, then lifted back to my eyes as the zipper reached the top.
“There.”
I watched his reflection take one slow step back, watched the careful rearrangement of his expression into something controlled.
I capped the lipstick, tossed it into my clutch, and turned. “How do I look?”
He lifted his hand, dragging his knuckles over my cheek, and then he leaned down, bringing his lips to just beside my ear.
“Like a million bucks.”
Outside, the cocktail hour was in full swing. No one paid Cosimo and me any mind as we stepped out of the bathroom together.
“Should we get a glass of wine?” I asked, still abuzz from the last few moments. Something bright and eager and a little stupid danced inside my chest. What a turnaround from only ten minutes ago.
“I’ve gotta take a call,” Cosimo said, looking at his phone with furrowed brows. “Will you manage to not get yourself into trouble if I leave you on your own for a little while?”
“Sure.”
His palm brushed over my lower back. “I’ll find you when I’m done.”
At the bar, I ordered that glass of wine. God knew I needed one. My fingers curled around the stem, I turned and leaned against the counter, a wave of tiredness washing over me now that the adrenaline had finally drained from my system.
A couple—a man and a woman—standing a few feet away shot me a strange look.
What now?
I glanced down and scrutinized the dress for any imperfections. Was it possible for me to get unlucky not once, not twice, but three times in one night? If so, I was cursed. There was no other explanation.
But nothing was wrong. When I looked back up, the couple was already gone. Huh. Maybe I’d imagined it.
A woman in a tailored jumpsuit stepped away from a nearby group and approached the bar to order a martini. She wore an unusual pair of earrings. I studied them as she waited for her drink.
“Excuse me, are you wearing Taffin earrings?” It was the only brand I knew that combined ceramics and precious gems so exquisitely.
The woman smiled. “I am.”
“They’re stunning. Getting a custom Taffin piece has been on my bucket list for years.”
“Would you like to take a closer look?”
“I’d love to.”
She took one earring out and handed it to me. “Do you work with jewelry?”
“No, but I dabble in pottery, and I spent a few semesters studying ceramics in college.” I told her briefly about the courses I’d taken while I examined the intricate design.
As I handed the earring back to her, I caught two women staring at me. Was one of them taking a photo with her phone? She held it at a weird angle, and when she realized I’d noticed her, she grabbed her friend by the arm and pulled her away.
I shifted, uncomfortable.
“Looks like you have some admirers,” the woman said. She must’ve seen them too.
“I don’t get it. Why are people staring at me?”
“Probably because you’re wearing a million-dollar dress.”
The wine nearly sprayed out of my mouth. What?
“The staff here aren’t particularly discreet.” The woman picked her martini off the counter. “Word spread quickly that a special lot was purchased on the spot at a steep premium.”
I gaped at her. “I don’t understand.”
She arched a surprised brow. “Don’t you know? Your husband insisted on buying that dress for you.” She gave me a once-over. “I’ve got to give it to the man. He knew exactly what he was doing. That gown looks like it was made for you.”
This dress had been one of the auction items. That’s what she was saying, right? And Cosimo paid a million for it?
A million dollars!
Impossible. Sure, he could afford it, but this was the man who hadn’t even argued with me when I’d called him Scrooge. He didn’t spend money on art, and he didn’t spend money on vanity projects.
And yet he’d spent an outrageous amount on this dress because of…me.
Inside me, a hurricane was brewing. A calamity.
“Will you excuse me?” I asked, forcing the words past my dry mouth.
“Of course.” The woman gave me a knowing smile. “You got lucky with that one.”
I didn’t feel very lucky.
Maybe I really was cursed.