Kirill leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees.“Magda, wasn’t it?” He directed his question toward the head sales assistant.
She was an older woman with white hair in a severe bun. She smiled, and it looked oddly girlish on her lined face.“Yes, Mr. Chernov.”
“Do you have what we discussed?”
“Yes, of course. I have everything I was able to source at short notice.” Magda lost confidence in her words toward the end of the statement, no doubt questioning the wisdom of telling Kirill Chernov he’d made a difficult request.
“Good. I look forward to seeing what you came up with. Hopefully, the future Mrs. Chernov will like something,” he said in a smooth tone that sent a flutter of smiles and batting of lashes through the assembled assistants.
“Mrs. Chernov?” I demanded as soon as Magda had moved away.
Kirill picked up a financial magazine lying on the marble and gold coffee table in front of the long velvet couch and flicked it open. “What else should I call you? I’m finding it difficult to keep up with your aliases these days.”
“You shouldn’t make it sound like we’re getting married,” I stated thinly, unsure why our conversation had my heart racing and sweat beading my palms.
“Whatever you want, Princess. Go and get changed. I haven’t got all day.” His eyes were still fixed on his magazine.
“Why are we here? I have enough clothes, thanks to you and your guilty conscience,” I reminded him.
“Strip off, or I’ll come back there and help.” His tone promised he would do precisely that.
With an irritated sigh, I headed toward the thick curtains separating the changing rooms from the waiting area. I had no desire to encourage another show of his alpha male douchery for the assistants to sigh over. Stepping inside, I saw that this boutique didn’t have anything as pedestrian as separate cubicles for women. It was a long space lined with mirrors and clothes racks along the furthest wall. In the center of the polished dark wooden floor was a wide platform.
“If you could take off your clothes, Mrs. Chernov, we will try the first piece,” Magda said with a steely determination that told me I wasn’t leaving here before she’d earned a nice, fat commission.
“Please, call me Mallory,” I muttered. I couldn’t keep hearing her saying Mrs. Chernov. It made my belly squirm and, given my recent morning sickness, that was dangerous around all the designer clothes in the place.
“Of course, you aren’t married yet,” she said with a placating smile.
“I’m not married, period,” I muttered, stripping off my clothes and handing them to a hovering assistant.
Five pairs of eyes turned to me, and my hand instinctively moved to my belly. I didn’t think anyone could tell yet, but I was paranoid about it.
“Of course,” Magda murmured. No doubt she was familiar with difficult clients in this kind of expensive place, and my oddness barely registered.
I blew out a breath and tried not to think of Kirill sitting outside, dark, gorgeous, and completely unhinged. Last night played on repeat in my head. I chewed my lip and tried to push the memory of the hot water and cold tiles from my head. Fuck, if a person could be addictive, it was him. A tailor-made drug designed to drive me insane.
“Mrs. Mallory?” Magda called from behind me.
I turned to see what she’d brought me to try on and froze.
A huge white pile of lace and chiffon lay across her outstretched arms, and another assistant stood behind her holding a long train beaded with pearls.
It was a wedding dress.
A wedding dress.
“There has to be some mistake. That can’t be for me,” I heard myself say from a great distance.
“No mistake. Mr. Chernov wants no expense spared for the dress of your dreams. You’re very lucky. This dress is a personal favor from Moscow designer Alexander Zlavin. He was a New York fashion week favorite this year,” Magda said, totally unconcerned about my impending meltdown.
“No, there’s a mistake,” I repeated, backing up to the curtain leading to the rest of the store and away from the lacy froth of white.
Magda frowned at me as she advanced with the dress. Other assistants circled behind me like animal control about to corner a loose wild cat.
“Mr. Chernov assured me you’re getting married in a couple of days.”
“No! I’m not!” I stopped as my back came up against the curtains.