Page 18 of Bloody Lace

Nicci swallows hard, her nostrils flaring as she steps back again. “My father is going to be furious. We’ll see if he keeps doing business with your family after this. The money he brings to your table?—”

“There’s always more money. It’s the least of my concerns.”

She shakes her head sharply, and I can tell she’s furious. But rather than saying another word, she pivots on her heel, and stalks away. Outside, I see Vik step forward, murmuring something quietly to her. I see her stiffen, and stalk down the path, Vik shadowing her to make sure she leaves without doing anything rash. Like, for instance, going to talk to my father.

I watch her go, feeling a weight lift off of my shoulders as she gets further and further away. The entire situation has been unpleasant to deal with, but it’s over now.

Nicci will find someone better suited to her. Someone who wants her—or who cares about the money she brings to the table more than I do. I meant it when I said to her that money is easy for me to come by.

What I’ve never come across before is a woman who captivates me the way Evelyn does. And she needs something from me.

It’s time to figure out how to make certain that she gets exactly that.

7

EVELYN

Monday evening, I find myself once again standing in front of my closet, trying to figure out what on earth to wear to dinner to meet a man I hardly know—who is also my fiance. Not a first date, not a meeting—a dinner with the man I’m going to marry, and I don’t even know his middle name.

It’s an impossibly strange situation, compounding an already difficult day. I’m not a person of routine, exactly—I don’t think many creative people are. But I’m used to spending my days at the shop, drafting patterns or working on sketches, stitching or doing fittings. I’m used to keeping my hands and my mind busy, and today for the first time in recent memory, I felt adrift.

I had things to do. I had to start calling my list of clients whose orders were lost in the fire, arranging for refunds, determining if their need-by dates were far enough out that there’s some possibility that the orders could be salvaged. Some, like Angela, were impossible. There’s no way I can have another dress ready for her by New Year’s, and her reaction to the news was…less than thrilled. She wasn’t very sympathetic, or understanding that I can’t just wave a magic wand and create something out of the ashes of what was left.

Most of my clients had more empathy for the situation, though, once I spoke with them, even if they were disappointed that they would have to find a different designer on such short notice or—horror of horrors—get something off the rack. I had one client who had arranged for her order a full year in advance, and I’m hopeful that with Dimitri’s offer of assistance, I might still be able to complete hers.

But for the most part, I’m going to be starting from scratch in every respect. And it only underlines the fact that Dimitri’s offer really is my only option. Not only will my insurance payout barely cover my debts and refunds, and not only do I not have any financial means of rebuilding on my own, but much of my client list will have abandoned me by the time I’m ready to start business back up again. Clients can be fickle, and they’ll find someone else to work with. A few have decided that, despite the fact that I couldn’t have anticipated my shop being set on fire, I’m not trustworthy any longer. I can’t be counted on to deliver, and so they’ve cut ties. And since my business also works on word of mouth, that’s damaging, too.

Dimitri might be able to help me there, too. He moves in circles like the ones that enabled me to pick up those clients from the party at the Met last year, and I might be able to replace those lost clients—and repair my damaged reputation via this marriage.

I never in a million years saw myself in an arranged marriage like this. But as insane as it sounds, it does make sense.

Sighing, I pull out a charcoal knit wrap dress from my closet, with a shawl collar and a flattering silhouette, and throw it on over tights, adding my black velvet boots. It’s not a very adventurous outfit, but this deal that I’m embarking on with Dimitri feels like enough adventure for one night. And it’s stylish enough for L’Riche, which is a much fancier place than I’ve ever been able to afford—and even more so than what Dahlia wouldtake me out to for one of the ‘rich girl evenings’ she likes to spoil me with from time to time.

Speaking of Dahlia—she’s been blowing up my phone, and I’ve been so busy and exhausted today that I haven’t taken the time to call her back. I snap a picture of my outfit and makeup in the small mirror of my cramped bathroom, and send it to her, scrolling through her messages as I wait for her reply.

Dahlia:Are you really going through with it?

Dahlia:I’m not saying you shouldn’t. It really might be your best option. Just be careful.

Dahlia:Are you ok??? Text me back.

Dahlia:I’m coming over if you don’t let me know you’re alive.

Dahlia:Literally. I’m calling a cab.

And then,ten seconds after I send her the picture:

Dahlia:Damnnnn girl. You look incredible. He’s going to be the one who trips and falls when he sees you.

Dahlia:Like, literally. He might fall for you. Be careful. Men like that are used to getting what they want.

Evelyn:I know. It’s just a business deal. He’s putting it all in writing.

Dahlia:That doesn’t mean shit unless you can enforce it. But I’ll pay for a divorce lawyer if you need one, girl.

My stomach twistsas I set the phone down, twisting the top off of a tube of dark berry lipstick. Deep down, I know Dahlia is right. Dimitri is rich, well-connected, and the heir to a powerful crime family. If he wants to keep me, there’s no telling what hemight do to get what he wants. I shouldn’t trust him. I don’t know that Icantrust him. For all that he seems genuine, I don’t really know him at all.

But I’m out of options. And if there’s one thing I’ve realized, it’s that Pearls & Lace, this thing that I built for myself, my dream—it means everything to me. I’m willing to risk whatever I have to in order to try to get it back.

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