Chapter Twenty

Harper

The knocking on my bedroom door is as insistent as it is annoying. I glance at the clock on the nightstand and groan when I see it's just before eight in the morning. And given that I didn't actually get to bed until almost three, it's way too early.

I sit up and rub my eyes, yawning and stretching as the door opens. Startled by the intrusion, I look down quickly and let out a small breath of relief seeing that I'm decent and am in my pajamas.

“Harper,” comes a woman's sing-song voice that's way too chipper for this ungodly hour. “I'm coming in.”

A woman steps into the room and gently closes the door behind her. She's about five-two with dark hair that spills down onto her shoulders and eyes the color of polished jade. Her skin is fair and she's got a small smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. She's a beautiful woman with the kind of body men fall all over themselves for, and in a dark skirt and white button-down blouse, and dark jacket, she projects the image of a professional.

But professional what?

“Good morning, Harper. My name is Sabrina,” she chirps. “I'm sorry to wake you at such an early hour, but we've got a busy day ahead of us.”

I stare at her, still trying to get my bearings. “We do?”

She nods enthusiastically. “Indeed, we do.”

“Ummm – a busy day doing what?”

“Well, I'm Mr. Rossi's assistant and personal shopper and – ”

“His personal what?”

“Personal Shopper,” she says brightly.

“What in the world is a personal shopper?”

She laughs. “Just what it sounds like, silly,” she says. “I do his shopping for him.”

“Like – grocery shopping?”

“Oh, heavens no,” she says. “He has a grocer for that. No, I shop for his clothing.”

I stare at her, dumbfounded. The man has somebody who runs around and buys his clothes for him? In addition to round the clock security and household staff? He's obviously a level of rich I will never be able to understand, let alone attain. But, given that he always looks very stylish and well put together, I guess Sabrina is good at what she does.

“So, what does this have to do with me?” I ask.

“He's asked me to take you out today and pick out a few outfits,” she says. “And to get you ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“Oh, he's requested the pleasure of your company at a special dinner this evening,” she beams.

“Dinner? Tonight?”

She nods. “You're a lucky woman,” she says. “He's going to be taking you to Mangini's. It's only one of the hottest, most exclusive restaurants in all of Los Angeles.”

I lean back against the headboard, my mind whirling with a million different thoughts. I feel a pinprick of trepidation but then think back to the night before and how much I enjoyed hanging out and talking with him. Once we got through all the awkwardness and tension, the conversation and laughter had been fun, free-flowing, and easy-going.

And then I remember that moment we shared at the end of it and feel a swarm of butterflies battering at my insides. I don't know what it means – or if it means anything at all. Maybe, it's just a fleeting moment, one that will never be repeated. The only thing I do know, is in that moment, I felt something inside of me shift.

I can't explain or put my finger on it, but in that moment, I found myself profoundly attracted to Roberto Rossi and wanting nothing more than to kiss him right then and there. I have no idea if he feels the same or if the connection we seemed to share exists anywhere else but in my own mind. Maybe, I'm suffering from some form of Stockholm Syndrome or something.

But, maybe, a night out will help make some things clear. If nothing else, at least it'll get me out of the house for a while.

“Okay,” I say, my mood brightening. “Let's go shopping.”

~ooo000ooo~

The instant we walk into the posh clothing store, I feel as out of place as a pig in a beauty pageant. The workers all look like they just stepped out of the pages of a Victoria's Secret catalog – and standing there in my peasant skirt and loose, flowing blouse, I feel like I just stepped out of the pages of a Wal-Mart catalog in comparison.

“Relax,” Sabrina says, as if she's reading my mind. “Don't let these bitches intimidate you. Trust me, you're way more beautiful than they are.”

I give her a weak smile. “That's kind of you to say, but they look like supermodels.”

She shrugs. “Anybody can if you wear enough makeup.”

Sabrina and I had breakfast at a trendy little cafe before we hit the stores – my babysitter-slash-bodyguard never too far behind. I'd originally thought she was going to be snooty, but I was pleasantly surprised to find out that she's an incredibly down-to-earth girl, not much older than me.

We had a great talk over breakfast and got to know a bit about each other. She's the kind of girl I could see being good friends with, actually. She hopes to start her own clothing line eventually, and I have to say, that her taste is exquisite.

But, when I look at a few of the dresses, I automatically reach for the price tag – which is just instinct for me. And when I see the price, my eyes just about pop out of my head.

“Oh, God, Sabrina,” I say. “There's no way – ”

She laughs and shakes her head. “You don't have to worry about a thing,” she says. “Mr. Rossi said to spare no expense and get you whatever your little heart desires.”

I point to a beautiful blue dress and shake my head. “That dress costs more than most people make in a year.”

Sabrina looks at it and frowns. “Yeah, and it's not really worth it,” she says. “The fabric is a little too coarse and I don't think those lines would be flattering on most women who aren't actual, literal stick figures.”

“Can I help you?” says one of the saleswomen who seemed to reluctantly walk over to us.

She looks me up and down, her distaste more than obvious. I feel the heat in my cheeks, knowing that my face is turning an unnatural shade of red, and want nothing more than to get out of there. Sabrina stares at her, the look of disdain on her face equal to the other woman's.

“No, you can't,” Sabrina says. “We're here to shop, but we'll give the commission to somebody who doesn't have such a large stick up her ass as you do.”

The woman's eyes nearly bug out of her head and her mouth falls open. “I – I'm sorry,” she stammers. “I'm not sure how I offended you, but I apologize.”

Sabrina shoos her away with a haughty gesture and takes my arm, leading me away from the woman who looks after us with something akin to panic on her face.

“We're done with you,” she says. “Perhaps, one of your less snotty co-workers would care to help and receive the commission on what we're going to buy. Shoo, now.”

I can't stop the smile from crossing my lips. Looking at Sabrina, I feel tears of gratitude welling in my eyes and I just want to hug her right then and there. She looks over at me and winks.

“You can't let people here grind you down,” she says. “Don't let them judge you and never be afraid to stand up for yourself. You just need to play the part.”

“I take it you have some experience dealing with women like her?”

She nods as she steers me through the store. “Quite a lot,” she says. “I grew up poor. Just a girl from Reseda that nobody really thought much of. But I'm working hard, am chasing my dreams, and even though I'm an assistant right now, one day I'm going to be a top designer. That's how I carry myself – I'm going to be the best. And I refuse to let any of these catty, shallow bitches get the better of me. They're beneath me. And that's the way you need to think, Harper. People in this city will use you. They'll eat you up and spit you out if you let them. The trick is to not let them. Know that you're the best and believe it with all your heart.”

“Thank you, Sabrina,” I say. “I – thank you.”

She gives my arm a gentle squeeze and a smile. “Keep your chin up.”

We spend the next couple of hours trying on dresses and taking them off, Sabrina casting a critical eye on each of them. When we finally settle on three different outfits, I shake my head, a feeling of disbelief washing over me.

“No, way,” I say. “This is just too much. I can't let him spend this kind of money – ”

“We'll take them,” she says to the saleswoman who is positively beaming.

“I'll have these wrapped up for you,” she says, taking the credit card from Sabrina and bounces away quickly, before I can change my mind.

“Harper,” Sabrina says, “Mr. Rossi simply wants to do something nice for you. Let him. He's certainly not going to lose any sleep over spending a little bit of money.”

“A little bit of money?” I ask, my stomach roiling. “Do you know how much those three dresses cost?”

She smiles. “I do,” she says. “And trust me, he can afford it.”

“That's not the point though,” I protest.

“It is the point, actually,” she says. “Harper, Mr. Rossi wants to take you out tonight. Show you a good time. He wants to make it a special night for you.”

I look at the dresses in the shop and I have to admit, dressing up in some of those dresses – it made me feel like a princess right out of a fairy tale. But the small, cynical part of my mind whispers to me – at what cost, though?

Sabrina looks at me as if she can intuit what I'm thinking. She gives me a small smile and squeezes my hand.

“I understand you're nervous,” she says. “But, believe me when I tell you that Mr. Rossi is one of the most forthright and upstanding people I've ever met. He's not doing this as a way to coerce you into sex, Harper. He's not like that at all. He genuinely wants to give you a special night. He told me he didn't think you had enough of those in your life and that you deserve it.”

“H – he really said that?” I ask.

Sabrina nods. “He did.”

Tears well in my eyes again and I have to blink them back. I don't know what to say or think about that. I guess I've never thought about it, but in a way he's right – there haven't been many nights in my life that have been truly special. Not that I've lived a life of abject misery, but I've never had anything resembling a fairy tale evening.

“I don't even know what to say,” I try hard to keep my voice from trembling.

“Don't say anything,” she says. “Just enjoy the night. Like he said, you deserve it.”

“I don't know why.”

“If you want my honest opinion, I think Mr. Rossi is pretty smitten with you,” she says, smiling wide. “Which makes you a very lucky girl. Women all over the city have been trying to dig their claws into him.”

My stomach does a flip-flop at the thought that Rob is smitten with me. It makes me feel strangely giddy, and I don't know why. I have so many thoughts and feelings whirling around inside of me, and everything's happened so fast that I haven't taken the time to sort through them.

But I guess that after spending some time with him last night and getting to know the real him, I'd have to say that maybe, I might be a little smitten with him too.

The saleswoman comes back with our purchases in garment bags and hands the card back to Sabrina. She looks at me and smiles.

“Ready for the next stop on our itinerary?”

“Next stop?”

She nods and smiles wide. “Next stop is the spa,” she says. “For a little relaxation and beautification.”

I laugh and shake my head – this is all just so surreal. As we head out of the shop, I glance at the first saleswoman who'd been so snooty. She glared at me, a sour look on her face. Sabrina turns and blows her a kiss as we walk outside laughing.