Chapter 31
He was right. Why was he right? Gabriella looked at her reflection in the mirror behind the curtain where she had changed and admired her silhouette from all angles.
The dress didn’t make her look short, it made her look put together, professional, calm.
She frowned at her image. How could a dress make someone look calm?
‘Is everything OK? You’ve not said anything for a bit.’
‘It’s OK.’ She smoothed the fabric over her stomach, relished the texture. It was definitely more than OK.
‘Good. Just checking you hadn’t passed out from hating it too much. So, can you show me?’
She whipped back the curtain and strode out into the central space, but, very quickly, the height of the patent heels made her and her confidence wobble.
Luca was quick to reach out and, on instinct, so did she.
Before she could quip out a comment loaded with bravado, his hand was holding her hand tight and whatever emotion she had felt before and tried to dispel was being recharged.
She attempted to rebalance, both her feet and whatever this other nonsense was. She let go of his hand.
‘We can change the shoes,’ Luca offered, taking a step back. ‘If they’re too high. I have another pair that—’
‘I can walk in?’ Gabriella offered with a laugh.
‘I was briefed that it was minimal walking for this particular event,’ he answered.
‘Really? You get that kind of detail?’
He nodded. ‘It’s important. It changes how I style.’
‘If I was running?’
‘Definitely not those shoes.’ He smiled. ‘So, tell me how you feel in the dress?’
‘Why don’t you tell me how you think I look.’ Why had she said that? She hurried to say something else. ‘As a professional.’
‘How you look as a professional?’
She could feel her cheeks reddening. Why were her cheeks reddening?
Composure. Focus. What backstory would she make up about him if she was looking at him from her apartment block?
Luca. Mid-twenties? Cover model or maybe a competitive swimmer with those broad shoulders and hair that would look particularly good wet…
‘Ah, you mean my professional opinion,’ he said.
She nodded, grateful for his interjection.
‘In my professional opinion,’ he began. ‘You don’t need to try on the other outfits. And we don’t need a belt or anything else except… maybe a bracelet.’
And that’s when she regained her sense. She touched her wrist on instinct. ‘No bracelet.’
‘I just think it will draw the eye down and if you do that, photographers are subliminally encouraged to take full-length shots rather than headshots. Good for column inches. Yes, they could crop but, like at Zeeta Friedmann, the majority chose not to so—’
‘I said no.’
She had barked it out. Harsh and louder than she had meant. Emotionally. And her fingers were still on her wrist.
‘OK,’ Luca said. ‘But I think we need something.’
‘I said no bracelet. Which bit of that didn’t you understand?’ Now she was shaking on the shoes again, balance under attack, but internally more than externally.
‘Is everything OK in here?’
Gabriella turned at the closeness of Sybille’s voice. She was in the room and so was Phoebe and Mr Darcy. Gabriella smiled, turning on her persona. ‘Yes, everything’s fine.’
‘Oh, Gabriella, you look beautiful!’ Phoebe exclaimed excitedly.
She whisked the skirt out like she might be about to perform a paso doble. ‘You like it?’ She did a spin, only just managing the full rotation on the shoes. Mr Darcy barked.
‘I do like it,’ Phoebe said, nodding.
‘Might I make a small suggestion?’ Sybille asked, moving towards Gabriella.
‘No,’ Luca said quickly. ‘We are good here.’
‘But, perhaps—’
‘I don’t think we need a bracelet, Sybille,’ he stated firmly. ‘My client. My decision.’
Gabriella swallowed, watching the exchange that she knew was very much her doing.
Sybille took a step back and nodded at Luca. ‘You are right, of course.’ And then she clapped her hands together. ‘So, Phoebe and I have been talking and I have a suggestion to make.’
‘O-K,’ Gabriella said a little warily.
Sybille began. ‘So—’
‘Sybille says I can come to her house with Mr Darcy and we can watch old French movies and eat ice cream,’ Phoebe blurted out.
‘O-K,’ Gabriella said. ‘And that’s what you want to do?’ She knew this trip was more work than it was fun but Phoebe wanting to go and have fun with someone else, someone she had only just met was a little blow to her aunt/guardian ego. She should be doing better, she needed to do better…
‘I am sorry,’ Sybille said quickly. ‘I should have asked you first. Before I made such an invitation. We do not have to—’
‘No, it’s OK,’ Gabriella said, already seeing the flicker of disappointment about to cast a shadow over Phoebe’s face.
It was unusual for Phoebe to take quickly to people she had just met.
Gabriella knew some of that was down to her niece’s anxiety but also a little because of her own overprotectiveness.
But Phoebe was growing up. She needed to try some independence.
Gabriella continued. ‘I mean, if you tell me where you live so I can come pick Phoebe up later and—’
‘And Mr Darcy,’ Phoebe added.
‘Luca knows the address,’ Sybille said. ‘So, we shall go now, yes? Come along, Mr Darcy.’
And before Gabriella could say anything else, she watched Phoebe, Mr Darcy and a little French woman walk out of the room chatting about cinema.
‘What just happened?’ Gabriella asked.
‘Sybille occasionally remembers that she shouldn’t work twenty-four hours a day and that she shouldn’t always watch movies alone.’ He smiled. ‘Don’t worry about Phoebe. Sybille has the best ice cream selection, I can vouch for it.’
‘Oh, OK, I feel reassured.’
‘You should.’
He reached out, fingers touching her hair and Gabriella immediately flinched.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘You just had a little white feather in there.’ He showed her.
‘Oh, OK. Thanks.’ Why was her heart hammering right now?
‘So, now we’re done here,’ Luca stated with a nod.
‘Yes, great.’ She turned towards the curtain of the changing area but stopped when he spoke again.
‘Listen, I don’t know if you think it’s too cold for ice cream in the middle of this icy snap we’re having in the city but… did you want to go get some food? Like, of some kind. It doesn’t have to be ice cream. But, it could be. Or not.’
Had he asked her out? Or was this just client/stylist professional behaviour? He had sounded a bit awkward. Nervous even. She hesitated. What she should be doing was catching up on her emails and checking in with Cheyenne. Except…
She turned around. ‘I mean, I’m definitely hungry for something.’ She coughed. Why had she said that? ‘Food I mean. Just, maybe not the ice cream, yet.’
He smiled. ‘Great. I mean, cool… but not… cold.’
He definitely sounded nervy. The confidence he had about his clothing choices was definitely dialled down a notch…
‘I’ll get changed,’ she said rapidly. And then she rushed back behind the curtain.