Page 6 of Ruthless Touch

Clapping her hands together so her bangle bracelets make a tinkling noise, she gushes, “Sasha, it’s wonderful to see you and your friend this afternoon. I have the dresses you chose waiting for you in the dressing area.”

“Wonderful! Aria, this is Dominique. She’ll be helping us today. Dominique, this is Gideon’s date for tonight, Aria.”

The way she says that, like the woman he’ll be with tomorrow night will change and I’ll be left as unwanted trash on the side of the road, makes my stomach clench. So much for his assistant being nice to me.

I eek out a hello for Dominique to be pleasant since she’s done nothing bad to me and follow the two women to the dressing room. Far more than the cramped cubicles in most stores, the boutique’s dressing area is spacious and bright with pale cream-colored walls, tan carpeting, and a crystal chandelier hanging from the center of the ceiling. Two navy-blue upholstered chairs provide a place for sitting, and a raised, carpeted platform in front of a bank of mirrors offers the chance to see what you look like from all sides.

As I look around at the room, Sasha and Dominique discuss which of the dresses will look best on me. I guess I don’t have a choice in this matter, just like I have no choice in anything else here at the hotel. Glancing over at the dresses hanging on display, I see Sasha’s taste is good. That I can be thankful for, at least.

Lost in thought about her comment about me being Gideon’s date for the night, I don’t notice that Dominique has vanished from the dressing area, leaving me alone with Sasha. The touch of her hand on my arm rips me out of my daydream of being consigned to the penthouse tomorrow night as he goes out with someone else.

“Why do you look so sad?” Sasha asks in a voice that doesn’t contain a hint of irony. “Look at these gorgeous dresses. You can have all of them, if you choose, but we need to decide on one for the event tonight. Do you have a favorite?”

Her question rhetorical, she moves quickly from being concerned about my being sad to admiring the dresses. I can’t figure this person out. One minute, she seems like she’s made of something inhuman, and the next, she’s expressing worry that I might not be happy.

Why anyone would think I should be the least bit happy is beyond me.

I study the dresses for a long moment, silently admitting each one of them is beautiful. She wants me to have a favorite, so I paste a smile on my face and point at the black one with the very low-cut neckline that I instantly worry might include me flashing guests my breasts if I move the wrong way.

“The black one is nice. I’m not sure I can carry it off, but I like it.”

Sasha makes a face that tells me she thinks I’ve said something outrageous, her eyes opening wide like she’s shocked about something. “Are you kidding? You have a gorgeous body. That’s why I chose that dress. I love it too. Try it on!”

She hands it to me with so much enthusiasm that I can’t stop myself from mumbling, “You sure do get excited about clothes. Who knew?”

“Clothes are a means to an end, dear Aria. They are there to make others desire you. Then once they do, they’re meant to be a way to further excite someone as they remove them from your body.”

As I open the curtain to the dressing room, I look back at her and smile. “And here I thought they were merely to cover up so we aren’t all walking around with our bits and pieces hanging out all over the place.”

That makes her throw her head back in peals of laughter. “You are so adorable. No wonder Gideon likes to have you around.”

I wait for her to explain that ridiculous statement, but she simply shoos me into the cubicle to try on the black dress. Gideon likes to have me around? He must be telling her that because he certainly hasn’t shown me any evidence of that in the weeks I’ve been living with him and sharing his bed. Most of the time he seems to have to work to tolerate me, and other times, I suspect he regrets taking me altogether.

As I slip into the barely there floor length black gown that definitely shows more cleavage than I think I can do, I say to her, “I think you must be mistaken. Gideon doesn’t even like me, much less like having me around. He’d be quite happy if I disappeared today and was out of his hair.”

“Stop being humble. You snagged the best man on the entire coast.”

Now she sounds like she’s disgusted with me. This woman’s moods change like lightning.

I tuck my breasts behind the fabric and look down my body. I do like this dress. It actually holds me in nicely. I wasn’t expecting that. Now to see how it looks in the full-length mirror out there with my babysitter.

The moment I pull the white curtain back to reveal myself, Sasha’s mouth drops open. When I step out in the dressing area, she sighs and shakes her head.

“No good?” I ask as I step up on the raised platform in front of the mirrors.

She follows me up there so I have to step forward, and behind me she sighs again as her gaze trails up and down my body. “It’s even better than I imagined. God, you look good.”

Her hands cup my bare shoulders, instantly setting me on alert. No one has touched me the entire time I’ve been here at Gideon’s hotel after that one night, and the feel of her fingers and palms warming my skin makes me suddenly emotional.

Forcing a smile, I look at her in the mirror. “Okay, so this one is in the running. We could just stop now and settle on this one.”

It’s not that I don’t want to try on more dresses. It’s just that Sasha standing behind me so her body’s pressing against mine while her hands now softly stroke down my arms is making me feel something I can’t explain.

I watch in the mirror as she rests her chin on my shoulder and smiles. “I love it, but let’s try the dark green one. I chose that because it’s going to make your eyes pop. With your dark hair, I bet that will definitely be in contention.”

As she speaks, her hands continue to caress my arms, sending waves of excitement through me. It must be because I’ve been starved for attention for the past few weeks because I’ve never been attracted to a woman. Whatever it is, I don’t know how to handle it, so I awkwardly step down off the platform and hurry over to where the green dress is hanging on the rack.

“Okay. Green dress it is next. I’ll be right out,” I say, the words tumbling out of my mouth at a rapid pace so I sound like I’m nearly rambling.

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