Chapter Ten

Ella

What the hell just happened?

Suddenly I had gone from potential felon to Mason Dupree’s date to his party and my mind was still spinning. I looked around the room where he had left me, not knowing who this Sylvie person he had mentioned was or why she would be coming, but fascinated by the opulence I was seeing in something so simple as a bedroom. I could tell immediately that this wasn’t Mason’s bedroom. Even in the expansive state that made it larger than the bedroom that Edmond and I shared and Molly’s bedroom combined, it didn’t seem massive enough to be his. It also had the subtle, indeterminate, somewhat generic femininity that was often the case with guest bedrooms.

Now that the door was closed, I dared to take the few steps away from the spot where Mason had left me and look around. The bed against one wall seemed thick and plush, expertly made with bedding in a subtle cream and navy floral pattern. It reminded me of the display beds that always tempted me when I was in department stores, only far more expensive. For a moment I wondered if it was even real, or just a stack of foam and wood like those display beds often were. It was a strange thought, but I knew that Mason had no family and I had a hard time envisioning him having friends over for billionaire slumber parties. It seemed much more likely that this was a room that was already in the apartment and he decided that the only proper thing to do was to have a guest room.

A window to either side of the bed caught my attention. I peered out of one of them and noticed that there was a fire escape that curved elegantly down the side of the building, masquerading as a simple spiral staircase so that none of the wealthy people who came this way would have to be confronted with the reality of anything so un-luxurious as a fire. I checked the lock on the window and realized it was just a simple thumb turn not unlike the locks on my window at home.

I suppose 57 stories would be a really, really far way for a burglar to climb just to try to break into a window.

I briefly considered opening the window and slipping off into the night, but I stopped myself. As easy as it might sound to just duck out of the window and scurry down a million flights of spiral stairs in my spike heels, I knew it wouldn’t actually fix the situation. If he really wanted to, Mason could find me, and I didn’t want to add insulting him to the reasons why he might want to bring the law down on me. Deep in my mind, though, I knew that that wasn’t the only reason that I couldn’t bring myself to escape. The attraction that I felt toward Mason was stronger now than it had been when I first met him, and I couldn’t seem to pull myself away from him. As big a part of me wanted to just put this behind me and go home, a bigger part of me wanted to disappear into the extravagance, just for a night, and explore what it felt like to be on the arm of a sexy, powerful man who looked at me with eyes that could make me melt.

I walked over and touched the bedding. It was soft and cool, but with the distinct crispness that came from dry cleaning. I gave the bed a cautious press and immediately regretted it as my hand left an impression in the middle of what had been a perfect expanse of taut comforter. I was trying to figure out a way to remove the dip and prevent Mason from having yet another reason for remembering me for all the wrong reasons when I heard a sharp rap on the door and then it opened. I turned to see a tall, skeletally thin woman step in, pulling a rack of garment bags behind her. She had perfectly styled white hair that hung below her shoulder blades and hands that spoke to many years of living, but bright blue eyes sparkled youthfully from her face and her smile seemed to hold more energy than I had felt in recent recollection.

“Hello,” she said, releasing the rack and coming over to shake my hand. “I’m Sylvie.”

“Ella,” I said, accepting her hand.

Sylvie smiled a little wider and went to close the door before turning back and looking at me, her eyes seeming to scrutinize every inch of me as they ran up and down my body. I had the compulsion to open my arms out to my sides and spin around, but I stayed still. I felt like she knew that I was wearing a stolen dress that cost more than my entire net worth even if you adjusted for inflation and gave me a raise for good behavior.

“So, what are you looking for this evening?”

My dignity?

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

Better response.

“Mason called me and said that you need a dress for this evening. He said that there was some kind of mishap with the one that you have and that he needed me to come by as soon as possible with some of my samples so we could find something that’s right for you to borrow for the party.”

He called in a dress shop? Wait…did she just emphasize ‘borrow’? Is that a judgement on my character? Potentially a true one at this point, but still.

“I’m really not sure what I should wear,” I admitted, deciding to let her commentary on my current contraband couture slide.

Sylvie’s eyes sparkled like a little girl looking at a brand new doll.

“I can help you with that,” she said. “Let’s just start with this one and we’ll see what you think, then we can go from there.”

She reached for one of the garment bags and unzipped it before easing a hanger with a frothy pink dress out. She held it out to me. It was a touch too quincienera for my taste, but I was willing to go along with it. I removed the dress that I was wearing and laid it out across the foot of the bed, then let Sylvie help me step into the pink gown. As soon as I slipped my arms into the delicate straps I knew that it fit me perfectly. When I pointed that out to Sylvie, she got a knowing smile on her face and nodded.

“Mason described you to me and told me exactly what size and shape you were so that I would be able to choose the dresses that were most likely to fit you and complement your form.” She gave a short laugh as she turned me around to zip up the dress. “And he was right, as always. If there is one thing that you can rely on about Mason Dupree, it’s that he knows the female body well.”

The comment put me off slightly. I was at once intrigued by it, interested in what she could mean, and uncomfortable, knowing exactly what she meant and not wanting to think about it. I already knew Mason’s reputation. Anyone who had ever heard his name knew his reputation. He left women scattered in his wake like used gum wrappers, and it didn’t seem like too much of a leap to assume that the ones that were seen with him at events or photographed coming out of his hotels or apartments, or those who made enough noise after he dropped them after one or two dates that they couldn’t be ignored, were only the beginning of the actual number he brought home with him. Men with power and money like he had learned quickly to be discreet.

I wanted it to bother me that I had somehow become another one of those women, at least in terms of being his arm candy for the night, but it didn’t. Instead, I couldn’t stop thinking about the burning in his eyes when he looked at me and the heat that I felt between us even when we were just walking down the hallway beside one another. It felt like there was something more there, but I didn’t know what. For right then, I was satisfied that whatever it was, was enough to convince him not to make as much of a problem out of the frame…or the dress…that he could have, and to enjoy the chance to play dress up and have one night of living in a world that I would never inhabit.

The fourth dress that I tried on was perfect. The deep emerald shade was unexpected but beautiful, and the cut was more demure than the red one, but still made me feel feminine and desirable. The strapless gown had a sweetheart neckline that cut just deeply enough to show off a hint of cleavage and a mermaid skirt that skimmed against my body before pooling at my feet and spreading around me. Sylvie handed me delicate lingerie that would make the dress lay even better and a pair of shoes that were so spectacular I was willing to be barely able to walk. I thanked her as she left, dragging the rack of gowns along with her. I was sitting on the edge of the bed, gliding silky thigh highs up my leg, when the door opened again.

I looked up, expecting to see the bright-eyed woman coming back. Instead, I saw Mason.