Oh, shit. I’d slept so long I was going to make us late.
I sat upright, grabbed the thin blanket covering me, and went to cast it aside, but my movement slowed. The soft throw blanket hadn’t been on the bed when I’d fallen asleep—he must have covered me up while I was sleeping.
His kindness was such a simple gesture, yet it made me feel all warm inside.
“Vance, I’m up.” I climbed off the bed and stood. “Give me one minute and I’m ready.”
He glanced my way as he spoke into his phone. “Actually, never mind. You can let her know we’re on our way. Thanks.”
“Why didn’t you wake me when you got up?” I asked when he pocketed his phone.
He flashed an easy smile. “You didn’t sleep on the plane, so I figured you could use a little extra time.”
“You didn’t have to do that. I don’t want to make us late.”
A slow smile teased his lips. “Petra won’t mind. I pay her and her company enough money not to.”
I scurried to the bathroom, ran a brush through my long brown hair, and swiped on some mascara as quickly as possible. Thankfully, the maxi dress I’d changed into after my shower hadn’t gotten wrinkled during my nap. I rushed out into the main room, snatched up my purse, and stepped into a pair of sandals.
It was a short walk from our hotel. We met Petra outside a trendy and intimidating boutique, and after introductions, we were ushered to the back of the store. There was a set of sleek leather couches arranged around a low, glass table, and bottles of wine and artisanal water were set on it, along with a rainbow assortment of macarons and other French pastries. It was so we could take in refreshments as we ‘shopped.’
Petra was short and fit, and everything about her announced she was a force to be reckoned with, from her custom off-center jeans to her shockingly pink hair. Her cockney British accent was charming at times, but sharp when it needed to be. Her team had at least six people on it not including herself, but it was hard to keep track because they kept rotating in and out of the back room while they presented different looks to the three of us.
Last Friday, I’d filled out a form for her including my measurements, shoe size, and which colors I felt worked best on me. I didn’t have to measure—I used the same ones Jillian had taken when she’d designed for me. I’d had to send pictures of myself to Petra, since I rarely posted on social media. She had the itinerary of events, and she’d already chosen a few looks, so it went much quicker than I’d expected.
“Are you okay with this?” Vance asked me at one point.
I gave him a smile. “I’m happy if you’re happy. I’ll wear whatever you need me to. Seriously. If you want me to wear a chicken suit, just say the word.”
I understood my job and our partnership. He was here under obligations to HBHC, and I didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that. Did it bother me that he was spending a fortune on clothes for me? No. He had the money, and I wasn’t sleeping with him in exchange for lavish gifts and trips.
Because, shit, I’d sleep with him for free. Maybe I’d even pay him for it.
If you had any money.
Nearly everything I tried on fit me, and while some of the pieces weren’t things I’d have picked for myself—like a red midriff baring crop top—Petra didn’t dress me like I was suddenly a different person. She expertly found a high-end version of my style, where the clothes were feminine and sexy but not risqué.
When I modeled a white one-shoulder mini-dress with black trim, Vance’s gaze worked its way up my bare legs and his smile grew. He liked what he saw very much.
“Gross,” he said in a rich voice.
Petra’s head snapped toward him, then back to me, like she couldn’t believe they were looking at the same thing. Maybe the shock of what he’d said disrupted her filter, or perhaps she was just outspoken. Her tone verged on anger. “Are you kidding me? She looks fabulous.”
He laughed. “It’s an inside joke. Emery doesn’t like when I compliment her, so I do the opposite.”
“Oh.” Her dismay faded somewhat, but she was still unsettled. “I see.” I kind of loved how Petra was willing to go to battle for me, even with the man who was her client. “So, you like this piece?”
“Yeah.” His gaze flicked back to me, and his eyes were full of smoke. “I like it a lot.”
He was just talking about the dress, right? Because it felt like he meant all of what he was looking at, and my mouth went dry.