Page 30 of Tempted By the Bosshole

“You could wear any of these and look spectacular. I look like a sausage,” I cry as I stare in the full-length mirror.

My bestie may have a tough shell, but she has a marshmallow heart. “You’re picking dresses that are trendy instead of ones that work with your figure.”

“No dress is made to work with my figure. Wedding dresses don’t come in a forty-two pudgy.”

“You are not pudgy. You are blessed with curves, and I’d give anything to have a chest that doesn’t look like a twelve-year-old boy. There’s a dress here for you.”

“If I may?” asks Luna who, until now, has been silent.

She probably knows more about wedding dresses than Jen and I put together ever will. “Please. Whatever it is, I’m willing to try.”

“You have chosen three mermaids and a trumpet. Perhaps a different silhouette? Maybe”—she withdraws a dress from the rack draped in heavy plastic—“something like this.”

Out of the bag comes a dress from fairy tales. A white, lacy confection that makes me gasp the instant I set eyes on it.

“This will be perfect for your shape and accentuate your best features while concealing what you wish to minimize.”

Jen nods. “It’s gorgeous.”

Five minutes later, Luna laces up the corset back, then circles me, seeming to make mental notes before she stops in front of me with a smile.

“Does it look okay on me?”

“I do not wish to influence you. See for yourself.”

As she shuttles me in front of the full-length mirror, Jen covers my eyes. Once Luna releases me, my bestie lifts her hands with a grin.

I blink at my image. Tulle shaped like roses create thick straps over my shoulders that give way to lacy sleeves. The sweetheart neckline with a crisscrossed bodice harnesses my breasts and reveals a respectable amount of cleavage. The simple bodice ends at my waist, which the stylist enhanced with a sparkling sash encrusted with crystals and pearls. It calls attention to my small waist, while the flare of the dress hides the wider thrust of my hips and falls gracefully until the scalloped lace brushes the cool marble floor.

Everyone smiles as I gawk.

Holy cow, that beauty with the perfect body is me? Tears spring to my eyes. “I love it.”

Jen hands me a tissue, then dabs at her own eyes. “You’re going to be a beautiful bride, honey.”

This is crazy. I barely know my groom, and I’m being forced into this, but… “I actually feel like a beautiful bride.”

“Is this the one?” Luna asks.

I nod before she even finishes the question. “Yes.”

“Good,” Jen says. “If you said anything else, I was going to override you and have your head examined.”

After more laughter, Luna pins fabric along the bodice and at my waist, then removes the dress and disappears into another corner of the suite. Mita and Gita approach next. I can’t tell them apart.

Franz nods. “Let us talk about colors…”

What is there to say? “Okay.”

“They weren’t talking to you, honey,” Jen whispers. “Let them do their thing. If Luna was any indication, these people know what they’re doing.”

The next four hours pass in a blur. After Franz washes and deep conditions my hair, Mita—I think—attacks my face, starting with a sheet mask and tweezers for my brows. Gita gives me a first-rate mani and pedi. Somewhere in the middle, Jen brings me a sandwich and wanders the suite.

Finally, the trio who have poked, primped, and prodded me step away.

“Your dress is ready.” Luna stands from behind her portable sewing machine. “I also took the liberty of choosing a veil for you.”

Normally, that would annoy me, but this woman grasps what will look good on me. “Thank you.”

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