Page 44 of French Martini

“A card fell out, Low,” Ridley says, bending to pick the envelope up off the floor.

I take it and open it, my jaw dropping as I read what’s inside.

“‘Mr. Ainsley, when I heard of your impending award, I took the liberty of designing something spectacular, hoping that our styles still align. Should you decide to honor me by wearing it, I ask for nothing in return but the joy of seeing you draped in one of my creations. If there are any changes that would make it perfect, please let me know. I’m stateside through the end of next week. Yours, Belle.’”

“Who’s Belle?” Ridley asks.

My eyes sting with emotion. “Belle is my absolute favorite couture designer. They knew me better than I knew myself and I almost always wore them to high-profile events. I can’t believe they thought of me after so many years.”

I set the card down and finish unwrapping the item tucked inside the bag. Ridley helps, and my breath catches in my throat when it’s fully revealed. He wolf whistles while I stare at it, completely stunned.

“Wow, Low.”

“Yeah.” I run my fingers carefully over the embroidered bodice. It’s strapless and corseted, in a beautiful shade of blush pink—my favorite. Belle and I agree the color gives me an ethereal glow under the right lighting. The lower half is a combination of slacks and a gown, but it’s all sheer from the waist down. Then I notice that attached to the back of it is a long gold leather rope. I have no idea where it goes, but then I remember Belle probably sketched it on the back of the card.

I grab it and flip it over, smiling when I see the sketch as expected. The gold rope is meant to wrap around my neck, across my shoulders, and down my left arm.

“Let me see.”

I hand the card to Ridley and return to gazing at this incredible creation. It’s absolutely stunning.

“You’re gonna look like a sexy angel,” Ridley says.

I laugh softly. “That’s the point, I believe.” I turn to my friend. “I was looking all over the place for something truly spectacular to wear on such short notice, but apparently Belle remembered me. I didn’t think—” My voice cracks and Ridley rubs my arm.

“What?”

“After everything blew up with Alain, it was hard for people to know which side to take. He was more established, so a lot of our so-called friends aligned with him. Others remained neutral. I dropped out of the public eye, so I didn’t know what people like Belle thought of me anymore. It’s been years, so I wouldn’t have thought they even remembered I existed.”

“Low, come on.” Ridley sits on the edge of my sofa. “You were a big deal in your own right. Indy sent us articles and shit about you all the time, and Alain wasn’t mentioned in any of it.”

“Indy did that?”

“Yeah. You know he’s a softy for his friends.” Ridley smiles, gripping my hand and squeezing it gently. “I’m not sure if you know this, but you’re pretty unforgettable. Oakley obviously knows it based on the hickies all over you.”

My cheeks burn with heat, but I make no attempt to cover up. “We had fun.”

“Getting into character for this fake engagement, huh?”

“Something like that. He went out and spent a ton of money on new clothes so he could look good next to me. He’s very thoughtful.”

“I guess that’s a word we could use.”

“What do you mean?”

“If I was a betting man, and I am, I’d venture that Oakley is into you in a very real way.”

“I know, but some of it’s for show. Obviously, we’re attracted to each other, but the romance and stuff is practice.”

“Uh-huh.”

“He knows I’m not dating material. Heknowsthat.”

“We all do.” Ridley pats my shoulder. “Come on down when you’re dressed. Wren is coming over to talk about moving in.”

“I’ll be down.”

“Oh, and we got a call last night. These society ladies are coming in for lunch.”

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