I was nothing. Now I have the most important thing in the world. Me.” She wrapped both hands around the wallet and pressed it between her breasts, breathing still shaky. “Thank you.”
* * *
You told me what you were worth, Luli. Act like you believe it.
She had been acting. The whole time. Still was, especially as a handful of designers whose names she knew from Mae’s glossy magazines behaved with deference as they welcomed her to a private showroom complete with catwalk.
She had to fight back laughing with incredulity as they offered her champagne, caviar, even a pedicure.
“I—” She glanced at Gabriel, expecting him to tell them she aspired to model and should be treated like a clothes horse, not royalty.
“A full wardrobe,” he said. “Top to bottom, morning to night, office to evening. Do what you can overnight, send the rest to my address in New York.”
“Mais bien sûr, monsieur,” the couturier said without a hint of falter in her smile. “Our pleasure.”
“Gabriel—” Luli started to protest as the women scattered.
“You remember what I said about this?” he tapped the wallet that held her phone. “I need you to stay on-brand.”
“Reflect who you are?”
“Yes.”
“Who are you?” she asked ruefully. “I only met you ten minutes ago.”
“I’m a man who doesn’t settle for anything less than the best.” He touched her chin. “The world is going to have a lot of questions about why we married. Give them an answer.”
His words roused the competitor who still lurked inside her. She wanted to prove to the world she was worthy to be his wife. Maybe she wanted to prove her worth to him, too. Definitely she longed to prove something to herself.
Either way, she made sure those long-ago years of preparation paid off. She had always been ruthless in evaluating her own shortcomings and knew how to play to her strengths. She might not be trying to win a crown today, but she hadn’t been then, either. She’d been trying to win the approval of a woman who hadn’t deserved her idolatry.
She pushed aside those dark memories and clung instead to the education she had gained in those difficult years.
“That neckline will make my shoulders look narrow,” she said, making quick up-down choices. “The sweetheart style is better, but no ruffles at my hips. Don’t show me yellow. Tangerine is better. A more verdant green. That one is too pale.” In her head, she was sectioning out the building blocks of a cohesive stage presence. Youthful, but not too trendy. Sensual, but not overtly sexual. Charismatic without being showy.
“Something tells me I’m not needed,” Gabriel said twenty minutes in and rose to leave. “We’ll go for dinner in three hours.” He glanced to the couturier. “And return in the morning for another fitting.”
“Parfait. Merci, monsieur.” Her smile was calm, but the way people were bustling told Luli how big a deal this was. How big a deal Gabriel was.
The women took her measurements while showing her unfinished pieces that only needed hemming or minimal tailoring so she could take them immediately.
“You’ll be up all night,” Luli murmured to one of the seamstresses.
The young woman moved quickly, but not fast enough for her boss who kept crying, “Vite! Vite!”
“I’m sorry to put you through this,” Luli added.
“Pas de problème. Monsieur Dean is a treasured client. It’s our honor to provide your trousseau.” She clamped her teeth on a pin between words. “Do you know where he’s taking you for dinner? We should choose that dress next, so I can work on the alterations while you have your hair and makeup done. It must be fabulous. The world will be watching.”
She would be presented publicly as his wife, Luli realized with a hard thump in her heart.
She still didn’t know what their marriage meant. He had remained silent on the topic of their sleeping together after her confession before they left Singapore. They had spent the flight talking about the features of his laptop and some investments she thought she should unload, since their value had peaked and would likely begin to dwindle as the news of his takeover sank in. He had approved it, allowing her to continue ensuring the cogs of Mae’s business kept turning while he chewed his way through the wiring into her accounts himself.
They had dozed in their recliners at different times, neither of them seeking the comfort of the bed. He hadn’t invited her to join him there, at least. She hadn’t known how to circle back to whether he wanted her there.
She wished she knew what he was thinking, now that she had confessed her virginity. She wished she had experience to draw on! Had he kissed her because he found her attractive? Or merely because she had signed a paper that allowed him conjugal rights? She met all the criteria for typical standards of modern beauty, but perhaps that only made her objectively attractive and didn’t translate into someone who was actually desirable.
She reminded herself again that he had done her a favor in cutting things short. Along with youth and beauty, one of the few things she possessed that was hers to give or barter was her virginity. She had presumed it might have value to certain men, but Gabriel didn’t seem to be one of them.
And yet he must like sex and women. She stood where other women must have stood, buying clothing charged to him. Gabriel was a treasured client.
How strange to hate women she had never met, but she did. Instantly and bitterly.
Jealousy is a sign of insecurity and low self-esteem, she could hear her mother cautioning her. But this wasn’t a case where Luli could size up her competition and see how many of their qualities she possessed then make adjustments to outshine them.
She could only make the most of what she had—and gritted her teeth in determination, intending to.
“This one,” she said of the dress she tried on a few minutes later.
From the back, it was a one-shouldered evening dress in cranberry silk with a filmy chiffon skirt, except half of the skirt was ivory. The front was more dramatic, with its silk bodice fitted to her breasts and the bottom of the dress made of shiny silk and cut to miniskirt height. The chiffon of the overskirt was belted in the pink-red silk, but its ruffled edges opened as she walked, delicate as fairy wings.
“You have a good eye and the ideal figure for Madame’s creations,” her seamstress gushed.
Luli accepted tall silver shoes with a pop of merlot on the sole then moved to the styling room. Her hair was blown out and her nails buffed and polished. A cosmetician applied cleansers, toners, moisturizer, antioxidants and foundation. When the woman reached for her color palette, Luli said, “I’ll do it.”
It had been years, but her muscle memory for liquid eyeliner and blending hues to contour her bone structure served her well.
Even so, when she stood dressed
