Page 7 of The Billionaire's One-Night Baby

Dodi didn’t wait for their agreement, she just led Thadie out of the room, their hands linked. Dodi’s melodious voice drifted back to him as he followed them to a changing room with the wedding dresses. ‘We might have to make some very minor adjustments, Thads, just to make sure the gowns fit beautifully. But, because they are Paulo Du Pont gowns, I’m not expecting any problems.’

At twenty thousand US dollars a dress, Jago bloody well hoped not.

Dodi closed the door behind Thadie, Micah, Liyana and Thadie’s other bridesmaids, flipping the lock and her sign toCLOSEDto keep out any late evening shoppers or spur-of-the-moment drop-ins.

Kicking off her heels, Dodi moved over to the seating area and jerked when she noticed Jago standing by the window that looked out onto the small garden to the side of the property. She’d had her hands full with Thadie’s mum—the very discerning ex-supermodel Liyana—and the ultra-picky Alta, who had something negative to say about every bridesmaid dress she suggested. Micah excused himself after seeing Thadie’s dresses and she’d thought that Jago left too, so she was very surprised to see him in her now empty salon...

Surprised and excited. Seriously? Excited by Jago Le Roux? Was she losing it? Yes, he was stunningly sexy, but she’d sworn off men, and relationships. Because, really, she never knew what to expect from people in general and men in particular.

‘You’re still here,’ Dodi commented as he picked up a champagne glass.

‘I thought I’d help you clean up.’

Since Jago Le Roux had been raised with a full set of silver cutlery in his mouth, his offer came as a surprise. The Le Roux family employed a butler and a houseful of servants. Had the man ever made a bed, washed dishes? She didn’t think so.

‘Where do you want them?’ he asked.

Dodi looked at the delicate glasses he held and thought that with one small squeeze from those big hands they would shatter. ‘Uh... I’ll get a tray from the break room.’

He picked up the other glasses. ‘No point, I’ll just carry them through. Where to?’

Dodi gave him directions—down the hallway, last room on the right—and he was back within a minute, his face bemused. ‘I feel like I’ve been sucked into an alternative world of silk and satin. How many wedding dresses do you have in stock?’

She wrinkled her nose. ‘Including the stock that came in today, probably close to three hundred.’

His eyes widened. ‘Seriously?’

‘Some, depending on the designer, are hugely popular, some aren’t. Some, not many, thank God, don’t have any takers at all. We auction those online to raise money for women’s shelters and organisations dealing in domestic violence.’

He sat down on the ottoman she had used earlier. ‘Do you pick the dresses yourself or do the designers just send you a range of their designs?’

Dodi was bemused by his interest. She’d never imagined that Jago Le Roux would be interested in her shop and that he would engage her in a getting-to-know-you conversation. She didn’t know what to make of it. ‘A mixture of both. I sit down with my head of Sales, and we choose what we like and what we don’t, taking into account what’s hot and what’s not. We then order sample dresses of the designs we like. We also allow the designers to send us a few dresses they think we should stock. The brides try on the sample dresses, and if they want that particular style we measure them and put in an order for the dress. Six to eight months later, the dresses arrive, and we pray the bride hasn’t lost or put on too much weight.’

‘Thadie’s wasn’t predesigned, was it?’

She smiled. ‘No, Thadie’s was specifically designed for her.’

He jammed his hands into the pockets of his trousers and rocked on his heels. ‘Can you explain how a dress can cost so much damn money?’

She heard the puzzled note in his voice, the confusion. And yeah, she got it, it was an insane amount of money to spend on a dress, but she’d had brides who’d spent more. Not many, admittedly. ‘Real pearls and Swarovski crystals, high-grade silk, handcrafted embroidery, French Chantilly lace and fabric. Shall I go on?’

‘No, you are giving me a headache.’

She smiled at his low rumble, knowing that it wasn’t the money he was complaining about, because Jago wouldn’t deny his sister anything. He, like most men, simply didn’t understand that beauty and craftsmanship also applied to clothing and not just to things with engines.

Thadie’s dresses were works of art, completely stunning. They were some of Paulo’s best work. And, because they were incredible and for a VVIP client, she’d lock the dresses in the walk-in safe in her office before she left for home. Her staff had all signed non-disclosure agreements, but anyone could take a sneak peek of the gown and snap a photo on their phone. She had over thirty consultants and knew that most had offers from tabloid reporters to spill the beans on their high-value clients.

Not on her watch.

Dodi perched on the arm of a wingback chair, swinging her bare foot. She really should slip on her heels, but this was Jago, the shop was closed, and she didn’t think he cared. He took a long moment to answer, and she was fascinated by the emotion in his normally unreadable eyes. ‘She’s going to make the most beautiful bride,’ he stated. Thadie was lovely, inside and out, but it was nice to hear Jago state the obvious.

‘She really is,’ Dodi agreed.

‘And you handled Alta well,’ he told her, surprising her. ‘She was demanding and annoying, but you didn’t lose your cool.’

Dodi shrugged, then smiled. ‘I’ve had a lot of practice at not losing my cool. Trust me, she wasn’t the most difficult client I’ve had this month. Or even this week.’

Jago winced. ‘I would’ve lost patience five minutes in,’ he admitted. She didn’t doubt it. In the business world, Jago wasn’t someone to be messed with. He had a reputation for being cold, unfeeling, decisive and determined. It was commonly accepted that, with Jago, you had two choices: either move out of his way or get run over.

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