Page 38 of The Billionaire and the Maid

I roll my eyes. “You are the most complicated person I know,” I reply, giving him a pointed look.

Elisha laughs from behind the counter. “Gustavo, she has a point.”

“Whatever. I’m an anomaly,” he says with a flourish of his hand.

I laugh, nearly spitting out a mouthful of coffee. “That’s definitely true,” I manage as I wipe my mouth.

“When’s your next date?” he asks.

“He wants me to go out with him tonight,” I say as I take another bite of cookie.

“Did you find a gala dress yet? You only have a little over a week to get one,” Gus asks.

“No. But Greta said to come to see her about that, so I guess I’ll swing by her place first,” I explain as I finish the cinnamon raisin cookie.

“Let’s go now,” he suggests.

“Now?”

“Yeah. We have time,” he states as he stands.

“Later, chica,” he calls out to Elisha.

“Later, Snookie bear,” she says with an air kiss.

I groan. “You two are ridiculous.”

Gus laughs. “And that’s why you love us so much. Come on, text Greta.”

I pull out my phone as we leave and text her.

Me: Hey, remember when you said you might have a dress for the gala? Any chance I can stop by now?

Greta: Of course. Just getting some admin work done. Come on over.

Me: Thanks. Be there in a few minutes.

“She’s there,” I say as Gus and I walk the several blocks to Greta’s house which is just the upstairs and back of the big old house in front of my garage apartment. The front few rooms are her business offices.

I walk inside without knocking. “Honey, we’re home,” Gus calls out.

“Up here,” Greta calls out from the second floor.

We make our way up the grand staircase and meander toward a small bedroom that she converted into a giant walk-in closet.

We step inside and both of us freeze.

Hanging on a hook in full view is the most beautiful blue dress I’ve ever seen. It has a pink sash around its empire waist, small pink beading around the bottom of the skirt in some sort of floral pattern, and some more beading around a simple sleeveless scoop neckline. I walk up to it, almost afraid to touch it. I notice then that there’s a butterfly made of little crystals along the skirt’s floral pattern.

“It’s perfect,” I murmur.

“I know. Didn’t you say you have some fancy heels with a butterfly design?” she asks.

I nod. The heels I inherited that were my mother’s.

“Yeah, they are embedded with tiny crystals and then a big butterfly crystal on top. They’ll go perfectly with this dress,” I state as I reach out and touch the chiffon.

“It’s your size,” she adds as she steps forward.

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