Page 62 of The Billionaire Experience

“What is this?” she whispered to Brody.

“You’ll see.” But his smile revealed nothing.

Dana, an older woman with flame-red hair dressed in a smart Kelly-green pantsuit greeted them. After brief introductions and a warm welcome, she whisked them into a room packed with clothing racks. A posh gentleman handed Reagan a flute of champagne and then vanished.

“As requested, Mr. Crane, I’ve taken the liberty of choosing several options for Reagan from Oscar de la Renta, Versace, and I added a few Giambattista Valli to keep things lively.” She winked at Reagan.

Reagan had heard of two of those designers but had never so much as touched a garment made by them. Grateful for the champagne flute, she drank down a greedy sip.

“Whatever she’d like,” Brody said. “We’ll need a cocktail dress and shoes for this evening, but I’d also like a formal option for an event coming up in two weeks.”

“Lovely!” Dana exclaimed.

Reagan snapped her head around, but Brody still wore a secret smile. “If she decides to join me for a weekend in New York. I haven’t asked her yet.”

“Wonderful. She’s in the best hands,” Dana promised.

“I’ll be here if you need me, but don’t feel as if you have to parade around like a shopping montage in a movie.”

“What is this?” she reiterated, her voice quiet.

“This”—he kissed her temple—“is how it’s done in my world. Knock yourself out.”

With that, he left her with several clothing racks and a very enthusiastic Dana. When Reagan inspected one of the tags, she saw why. “This dress costs forty-five hundred dollars?”

Dana frowned. “It is one of our lower-cost offerings, but I was so sure the style would be perfect for tonight, I wanted to include it. I can vouch for the quality, but if it’s too pedestrian?—”

When the other woman reached for the hanger, Reagan clasped her wrist. “It’s a bit high,” she whispered. “I was aiming for closer to hundreds of dollars.”

“Oh, no, no, no.” Dana laughed. “Mr. Crane was very clear. You’re to choose whichever dress you like. I’m not sure we’ll have time to tailor it given the start time of your event this evening, but never underestimate the power of precisely placed safety pins.”

Head spinning, Reagan stood statue still while Dana presented dress after dress. There was a basic black with short sleeves and a belt, as well as a showstopper of a sleeveless shift dress decorated with mirrored squares. “Real glass!” Dana said. Then there was the stunning white crochet strapless maxi, to which Dana decided, “A touch casual for a cocktail party, but I’d like to see you in it anyway.” There was also a masterpiece in vibrant red with an ornate skirt.

“Try these three first.” Dana showed Reagan to the dressing room, which was larger than her current bedroom, now stocked with the red, black, and white dresses.

Reagan staunchly ignored the price tag as she carefully tried on the first one. She scrunched her nose up at the white. It was beautiful, with big cutouts in the long skirt, but it was too easy to imagine spilling cocktail sauce down the front. No, thanks.

The black mirrored Versace was fit for a celebrity walking a red carpet. It instantly made her feel like a movie star. Pretty as it was, she found the modern frock rigid. She’d prefer to feel more like herself.

She nearly asked Dana to swap out the red for a muted color, but the more she admired the dress, the more she wanted to try it on.

Like the white dress, it was strapless. The bodice was fitted, leading to a skirt with large abstract flower cutouts in varying shapes and sizes. The fit-and-flare silhouette accentuated her shape, and the short skirt made her legs look a mile long.

No price tag on this one. She was afraid to ask.

She stepped out of the dressing room where Dana and Brody were chatting.

“This one is too much for tonight, right?” she asked whoever was listening.

Both of them stared slack-jawed for the count of three. Reagan checked to make sure that she hadn’t tucked the skirt into her underwear, but no, everything was in place.

“Stunning,” Dana praised.

“That’s it. This one.” Brody stalked over in a way that reminded her of him in the bedroom. Confident. Decisive. “Goddamn, I knew you would look amazing, but I had no idea you were going to be this fucking perfect.”

Humbled by the compliment, she bit her bottom lip.

Dana chirped about Brody’s “excellent choice” before dashing off to select shoes. When they were finally alone, Reagan broke the bad news to him. “I really, really appreciate the personal shopper and the white-glove treatment, but I can’t let you spend five grand on a dress I’m going to wear one time.”

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