Page 57 of The Re-Proposal

I freeze.

She glides over to me. “I’ve been in this business for a long,longtime and you know what I’ve learned? What makes a woman cheap isn’t her clothes. It’s her attitude.”

My eyebrows tighten.

“These shoes are worth thousands. Some are limited edition. Women would kill for a chance like this. I could dress you in the finest. I could give you a whole new wardrobe. I could change your makeup and your hair. And you would still look as shabby as you do now.” She taps her temple. “Because class comes from here.” Her hand tugs at my sleeve. “Not here.”

My heart burns. It feels like she’s peeling away at my wounds, exposing my fragile heart. My deep-set scars.

You’re never going to be good enough. You’ll never fit in, no matter how much money you get.

I lash out with heat. “You don’t know me.”

“I know your type.” Mimi Roach steps toe-to-toe with me. “You want to storm out of here in a fit of righteous indignation. You want to tell yourself you don’t need it. Or that you’re not this shallow. Or you’re not the type of person who likes nice things.”

“I’m leaving,” I grind out.

“There’s the door. I won’t stop you.”

Laura grabs my hand before I can stomp away. “Clarissa, wait.”

“For what?” My voice is thick with annoyance. “I’ve had a long day, Laura. I don’t need this.”

“When will we have an opportunity like this again? At least look at the shoes,” Laura begs.

“Go ahead and look.”

“You’re the reason they’re here. If you leave, when will I have another chance to touch a designer Lleore again?”

“You’ve got five minutes,” I grind out.

I grab a glass of champagne and down it while Laura flocks to the shoes.

Mimi Roach approaches.

I stiffen when I feel her come up beside me.

She stares straight ahead, her voice dry. “You’re offended.”

“You called me cheap!”

“To clarify, I called you shabby. You’re the one calling yourself cheap by assuming my definition of ‘cheap’ describes you.”

I bristle. “So what? If I think I’m cheap and shabby or if I reallyamcheap and shabby, it has nothing to do with you.”

“Why do you think I’m here, Miss Maura?”

I turn to face her. “Because Cody paid you… probably an insane amount of money.”

“He did.” I scowl until she adds, “But I’ve got lots of money. Money alone won’t move me.” She folds her arms over her chest. “I came because I know what you do for a living, Miss Maura.”

I turn to her. “What do I do?”

“You convince women who’ve lost their sense of value and self-worth to start again. You teach them they can be better. They can be more than their circumstances. You pour into them, but who pours into you?”

My stomach clenches. I glance down.

“Whatever shoes you do not choose will be donated to your foundation. You can sell them. Give them away. Do as you please.”

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