CHAPTER EIGHT
I stepped out from behind the oriental screen and twirled. As expected, the dress flared out, floating in the air gracefully. It felt smooth and slippery against my skin and as I stood before the mirror, the sensuous gown caused my temperature to rise as I imagined Aidan’s fingers sliding smoothly over it.
“Clary, it looks amazing.”
Tilting my head from side to side, I had to agree. I played with the flouncing neckline. “I’m hanging out a fair bit.” The spaghetti straps meant that I had no support whatsoever. “I’m going to have to strap my breasts down with something, and with this low-cut back, I’m not sure how I’ll do that.” I turned and studied how the gown hugged my curves like a glove.
“It’s as if it were made for you, Clary. It’s fucking gorgeous,” Tabitha enthused. “We’ll figure out what to do with those exploding boobs of yours. It’s so you, Clary. You’ve got to wear it.” She rummaged through a chest and brought out a piece of cream lace. She placed it on my head so that it cascaded over my shoulders.
“Freaking hell. Will you look at that? We have a perfect match.”
Tabitha was right. The lace, which appeared handmade, was elaborately florid and ideally suited to the simplicity of the dress.
Tears filled my eyes. I couldn’t believe how quickly we came to it. It was a piece of magic at work. “Shit, Tabs, it shouldn’t be this easy, should it?”
She held her chin and shook her head. Her eyes were aglow. “You look gorgeous. It’s a must.”
After I returned to my former self, I went searching for Nathan. I couldn’t risk losing the dress at auction. I had to have it.
As soon as I entered the room, Nathan, who had been chatting with prospective buyers, gazed up at me.
“Can I have a quick word?” I asked.
“Sure thing,” he said, all smiles and hanging close.
“I want to buy this dress and lace.” I lifted my arms, holding the cascading slinky dress.
He raised an eyebrow. “Only if you let me see you in it.”
I frowned. “Are you joking?”
He shook his head. “No.” He was serious.
Shit.
I went over to Tabitha. “He won’t sell me the dress unless I model it for him.”
Tabitha laughed. “Boy, he’s keen.”
“What do I do?”
“Do you want the dress?”
I nodded.
She shrugged. “That’s your answer.”
Nathan waited patiently while I went back behind the screen. It felt weird and wrong, but I had to have that dress.
When I stepped out, I saw his face change color. Even though I’d kept my bra on, my nipples poked through the flimsy fabric. He noticed, because his eyes darkened with arousal. He pointed. “Turn around.”
I reluctantly moved.
“It looks absolutely stunning. You’re beautiful, Clarissa,” said Nathan. Approaching me, he brushed my shoulder. His eyes glanced down at my cleavage.
I crossed my arms and looked down at my feet. “Is that enough? Can I take it off?”
He nodded. “Sure. The dress is yours. Thank you. It fits you beautifully. It was made for you. Keep it.”
“I want to pay for it,” I said as he was about to leave the room.
“It’s yours,” he said.
I went to my handbag and pulled out my checkbook. “I have to pay for it.”
He shrugged. “You just bought those pretty frames. That was a tidy sum. And I’m sure you’re about to shell out at the auction. Take this as a gift.”
“But I want to pay.” I scribbled ten thousand on the check and handed it to him. Nathan’s head pulled back sharply.
“That’s generous. Look, that’s a night out for me. Keep it, really.”
“I need you to take it. The dress is for my wedding.”
His eyes widened with surprise. “Nice one. He’s a lucky man. Tell you what. Go in there”—he pointed to another room— “and take whatever you fancy. Then we have a deal, okay?”
I shrugged. He was adamant and I really wanted the dress. I nudged Tabitha, who was bantering and giggling with Jason.
When we were out of earshot, I said, “Tabs, you’re leading him on.”
“Hmm… and loving it.”
“But what about Grant? You better not fuck around with him, Tabs.”
“Hey… chill. We were just arranging for me to do a screen test.”
“Let’s hope he hasn’t got a nice big comfy sofa in his office,” I said sarcastically.
“You’re such a grandma, Clary, especially in that cardigan and that 1950s attitude.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked with my hands on my hips.
“Nothing,” she said, linking her arm with mine.
The Art Deco figurines did not disappoint. There were too many to choose from—women with bendy backs, in arabesque poses, and gowns splayed out as they twirled. There were also opulent antique Murano glass vases that I just couldn’t resist. Some items, I purchased as homecoming gifts for my father and Greta. I also bought a pair of matching figurine lamps for Tabitha, who was equally struck by the beauty of all the objects.