Page 31 of Her Devil

“It doesn’t matter. What were you waiting on me for?” I ask, diverting the attention. She raises her eyebrows, noting the change of conversation. “And what have you been texting Taylor about anyway?”

“Nice try.” She chuckles. “Don’t think I’ll forget you didn’t spill the tea, but I’m way too interested in what’s inside these boxes. Come on.”

“Boxes?”

With a roll of her eyes, she hands me the glass of wine and drags me back out into the main room.

Calls of, “Finally,” and, “I can’t believe we actually waited this whole time,” ring out as the girls all gather around the dining table excitedly. There’s a large dress box placed at six of the place settings, a single red rose and inlaid card abandoned in the middle of the table.

“It says we have to open them together,” Penelope explains as I reach for the card. “Otherwise we’d have just opened them.”

They all stand in front of the ones with their names on, mine left for me as they look from me to each other before tearing the lids off and ripping the black paper apart. I’m still peeling the paper back as they pull masquerade masks out, each one slightly different than the last. As I part the papers, dark blue lace comes into view, feathers curling at the edges of the mask as a corset-style lace crosses over the bridge of the nose.

I’m still taking in all the tiny details as cocktail dresses glitter and glimmer, the girls lifting them from the boxes with a gasp. Emerald green, ruby red, black as the night, black lace cascading over a nude base, black with silver detailing, and then mine, a deep blue plush velvet. The off-the-shoulder dress has a small cut out at the bust and is a mermaid fit, crystals scattered across the collar line and down the front, so it looks like a night sky. The silver clutch and matching heels show the attention to detail that’s been taken, the consideration for all the little things.

Not just a covering, not only a dress, these have been chosen with each of us in mind. The darker green twirled through the length of the skirt matches Charlotte’s skin tone much better than the ones in any of the other dresses. And yet, I can’t help the unease that swirls in my gut.

Someone picked these out for us, individually. My shoe size is correct, no doubt the dress will fit like a second skin, and these have been delivered to the house, much like the invitation that came the other day, without us noticing.

Someone is coming and going in a locked space, somewhere that’s supposed to be a haven, our home away from home, unannounced and unnoticed. But to what end? To bring pretty stationary and expensive gowns? No, there’s more to this, there has to be.

“Aren’t these a little dressy?” I ask, looking at Tamsin. “Didn’t that flyer suggest an informal gathering of the masses to you?”

Obviously, the dresses are gorgeous and I don’t need much of an excuse to throw on a pair of heels and a beautiful gown, but not if it’s a casual event. There is such a thing as being overdressed and it isnota good moment to find yourself in.

“Who cares?” Penelope scoffs. “The card says these are for Friday, that the cars will be here to collect us at seven sharp and we’re to be ready. If everyone else turns up in jeans and trainers, let them.”

The rest of the girls agree with her, comparing gowns and heels as they disappear excitedly to try them on. Without any further thought, Tamsin grabs my box and hers, disappearing into our room as I trail behind, a gnawing in my stomach and the card in my hand. “Grab the wine,” she calls.

Sliding the card under my arm, I top up both glasses before following her into our room, the animated sounds of the rest of the girls in their rooms an uneasy background that I close out with the click of the door.

Her dress is halfway up her body by the time I’ve got the wine on the desk and she pulls her hair to the side for me to draw the zip up. Yes, it fits her perfectly. The midnight dress isn’t as dark as I originally imagined, silver rivulets cascading delicately through the brocade, a thigh-high slit giving it all the sass you could imagine the eldest daughter of an international diplomat might have.

The red bottom heels, black clutch and mask finish the outfit impeccably. The attention to detail is as impressive as it is concerning, that same embossed logo running beneath my fingers on the card as I take in all her glory. She’s radiant, my best friend, and despite my reservations, I can’t help the smile that covers my face.

“There’s something wrong with you if you don’t put that dress on right now,” she comments, turning in the mirror to check out her ass. “It’s going to look fantastic.”

Throwing the card down, I cross the room, peeking through the black paper to the dress in the box. It’s a matter of minutes to discard the concerns of the day, along with my trousers and blouse, leaving it all laid on the back of the chair as I step into how our weekend is going to begin.

I allow myself just a minute of hesitation before falling headfirst into the enthusiasm that courses through the house. There’s only so much you can second guess everything before you have to give in and just enjoy the moment. Yes, there might be an ulterior motive for this, but that’s not the dress’ fault, and it certainly isn’t hiding any answers.

“I’ll have my manicurist come on Thursday,” Aimee says, the sound carrying from the living room.

“My makeup artist is only an hour away and I don’t trust anyone else to do that,” Tamsin adds, opening the door and joining everyone else as I follow. “Except for maybe Ivy…”

“Call Mads,” I reply. “See if her assistant can come, and between them, they could do everyone.”

“Ooh, good plan,” Stephanie says. “I’ll find out if my stylist can bring her assistants for our hair too. What a totally fun girlie afternoon we could have!”

There are better things I could think to be doing with my time, but just for the minute, why not lean into it? Let the worry and the concern go and stop seeing things that might not be there.

That conversation with my father jaded my outlook, it made me start to question everything, things I would have accepted and not thought twice about I’m now second-guessing and falling over myself to figure out.

There doesn’t have to be a reason for everything. Sometimes, things just… are.

“Right, get those gowns hung or boxed, ladies, I think it’s about time we got to know each other a little better.” Charlotte smiles, grabbing another bottle of Prosecco from the fridge. “Loungewear on, film to choose, it’s truth or dare time.”

And that’s how the next few evenings go.

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