Page 98 of Filthy Savage

When I’m done with her, I grab the white shoebox, Manolo Blahnik written on top of it.

Okay, so I’ve definitely heard of that brand before.

I find a pair of white slingback sandals inside that match the dress perfectly. Once again, he made sure the heel wasn’t big, and that makes me smile. At least he put some effort into this.

Slipping them on, I walk in them a bit and find them comfortable.

Retrieving the dress from the hanger, I run my fingertips over the beautiful soft material, not even wanting to know what a dress like this costs. I’ve honestly never heard of Vivienne Westwood, but I’m sure this cost a small fortune.

Removing my clothes, I step into the gown.

As I do, Fia’s mouth pops open. “Wow! You’re pretty, Mama!”

“Aww, thanks, baby. So are you.”

She rounds her small arms around my thighs before running toward the full-length mirror, twirling as she watches herself.

“Louise! I’m ready.”

As soon as she returns, her hand jumps to her chest. “Oh my goodness, you both look incredible.” Her eyes fill with tears, and she quickly swipes a finger under her lashes, clearing her throat. “Sorry, ignore me.”

She sniffles, and I wonder what just happened.

“That’s okay. No worries.” I try to lighten the mood. “This dress definitely isn’t as heavy as I thought it would be, and it’s shockingly not long on me.”

She fingers her chestnut-colored bob. She’s probably in her early sixties, a bit older than my mother.

“Oh, yes. Mr. Quinn was very specific about what he wanted for you.”

That causes a little twinge in my heart. He didn’t have to care about whether I had something to wear, but he did. That means something. He wanted me to feel special. He always has.

No, Amara. Don’t do that! Don’t act like this is all sweet and normal. He kidnapped you, woman! Stole you from your home and plucked you into a new one. But here’s a wedding dress! Such a kind man.

I roll my eyes internally.

“Would you like me to curl your hair?” She puts on a smile, and I can tell she’s trying to forget whatever it was that made her break down like that.

“Sure. Thank you.”

Heading toward the bathroom, she brings back a hair straightener and a curling iron, plugging both in while I remain seated on the bed.

“Mama…” Fia runs over. “Look at me!” She starts to twirl.

“How pretty!”

Louise glances at her, smiling softly while taking a thick section of my hair and straightening it before curling the end.

“You know…” Louise tells her. “They have ponies on the farm.”

“Ponies?” Fia’s entire face lights up. “I love ponies!”

Great. So now she’s never going to wanna leave.

I swear this child is too mature for her age. She walked by nine months and talked by one. She was always in a hurry to grow up. Though I’m not ready for her to do that quite yet.

I clear my throat. “I think that could be a little dangerous.”

“No! Ponies! Please!” She begs with the cutest pout.

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