Page 148 of Cashmere Cruelty

That’s a very aggressive way to praise someone.“I just… I’m not used to it. When I started out, I was just mending my own clothes.”

“You guys couldn’t afford new ones?” she ventures. I’d expect the words to be snobbish, but they come out without a trace of judgment.

“Yes and no,” I reply. “Mostly, my parents were too busy arguing to notice. I didn’t want them to fight about that, too, so I picked up a needle and thread and just did it myself. Grandma taughtme a few stitches. After a while, I got pretty decent at it: altering my clothes, making new ones, all that jazz.”

“God, you’re so infuriating,” Petra mutters. “‘Pretty decent.’ I can’t tell if you’re fishing or you’re serious.”

“Well, I am a pro now,” I amend. “But I wasn’t always. And besides, I’m a tailor. Designing’s a whole other bag of candies.”

“But it’s what you want to do?” Petra guesses.

I don’t deny it. All kids have dreams—and kids from broken homes? They need to dream twice as hard. “It doesn’t matter,” I brush it off. “Fashion’s all about connections. And money.”

“You realize you’re currently pregnant by a billionaire, right?”

I shake my head with a smile. “I couldn’t possibly ask Matvey for that. I don’t want to. I… I want to get there on my own. If I can’t, then it wasn’t meant to be.”

If I can’t, then I wasn’t good enough in the first place.

“Dreams…” Petra’s voice shakes me out of my reverie. “They don’t listen to reason. So, if you’re going to pursue one…blyat’, you shouldn’t listen to reason, either.”

I blink. “I’m sorry—did you just comfort me?”

“Don’t get used to it.”

“I’m totally gonna. I’m gonna call you up at 3:00 A.M. and vent my woes into your ear.”

“Try it. I’ll cut out your tongue.”

“I’ll show up at your place with nail polish and face masks,” I continue as if she hadn’t spoken. “We can watchMean Girlsand gossip about tall, criminally-inclined Russian men.”

“You don’t know where I live.”

“I’ll bribe it out of Julia.”

“I’ll fire her.”

“You’d never.”

“Then I’ll just kill you with a safety pin right now.”

I grin. Now,that’sthe Petra we all know and fear. “Can I at least finish this dress first?”

“Please do,” she begs. “How much longer anyway?”

“Not long.”

“Oh, good?—”

“Just one more gown and we’re good to go.”

Petra’s eyes grow to the size of melons. “I’m sorry. One moregown?”

“Well, yeah. Client’s asked for two.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Andyou’re just her size! How lucky is that?”

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