Chapter 5

5

FIA

L iv paced behind the couch in my cozy studio apartment, scanning the invitation a second time, then a third, all while I fought for my life on the rickety stool I was standing on to hang more white, sparkly Christmas lights along the ancient crown molding above the three street-facing windows.

“I don’t understand.” Liv stopped pacing and stared up at me, smoothing her fingers over the fine handwritten scrawl.

“What don’t you understand?” The words were muffled as I held a pack of removable, sticky hanging hooks in my mouth. “I need a dress, Liv. Something blue, like the invitation says.”

“How did you get an invitation to this, Fia?”

I sighed with relief as I hung another section of lights and stepped down from the stool, my arms aching from the strain. I’d just started putting up my Christmas decorations today, on December first, a new record of restraint. Normally, my decorations were up before Thanksgiving, but this year I had been busy.

“I’m pretending to be Mason O’Leary’s girlfriend. No big deal.”

She gaped at me, her dark eyes wide with confusion. Her slick, straight black hair was tied back in a ponytail that trembled as she shook her head. “Does he know?”

“What do you mean? Of course he knows. Did you think I was just name-dropping him to get into these parties?” I laughed. “Just don’t tell anyone I told you.”

Liv made a small noise in her throat that edged on rage. I really wasn’t giving her much, honestly, but the idea of telling Liv the truth about this thing I was up to? Well, it kind of made me feel like I should be running an ad for my girlfriend services on the internet.

I walked to the kitchen, which was nothing more than a fridge, a few cabinets, and a two-burner stovetop, and grabbed the bottle of pinot noir off the counter. The twist-off kind, of course. I had been “dating” one of the richest men in the city, but I was still broke as hell.

I poured two glasses of wine, handed her one, and told her to sit down. An hour and a bottle of wine later, Liv stared at me in disbelief, but I’d filled her in. I told her it was harmless, just a crazy little adventure that would be fun to think back on when I was old and gray.

Once she wasn’t actively calling me insane, I turned the conversation back to more practical matters. “How hard do you think it’s going to be to find a dress that’ll fit me perfect by this weekend?”

She shook her head. “That’s what you’re worried about right now? Fia, what happens if your heart gets all tangled up in this?”

“I’m not going to fall in love with him, trust me.” I opened the second bottle. We were going to need it, especially since Liv was in no way, shape, or form done asking me what the hell I was thinking. “That’s less likely than finding out he’s a mafia boss or wanting me to join his harem.”

Liv snorted a laugh. “Seriously, though. Haven’t you given any thought to why he needs this? Like, what exactly does he expect from you? Do you have to kiss him? Sleep with him?”

I frowned at her. “I’m not his sugar baby. In fact, he’s not even paying me.”

She pointed over the couch to the jet-black credit card sitting on the kitchen counter.

“That doesn’t count,” I squeaked, but she arched a brow. “He’s not—I’m not—This is just business.”

“Funny business?”

I rolled my lower lip between my teeth in thought, glancing around my apartment. Boxes of decorations lay haphazardly across the fluffy white area rug in the corner where a small TV faced the couch we were sitting on. A short, somewhat unsafe staircase with shelves underneath them, full of books, lead to the loft, which was the only place where my mattress could fit comfortably. My desk, messy and unorganized, was in the far corner of the room, near the stairs, with a direct view of the fire escape.

At least I had my own bathroom. Oh, and I had a washer and dryer, which was a luxury living in New York City.

Liv snapped her fingers, trying to get my attention. “What?” I hissed.

“Are you thinking about him right now?”

“I’m thinking I actually had a good time during Thanksgiving and that Mason is one of Colin’s friends. I’m doing him a favor.” Liv didn’t look convinced as I continued. “Look, I know what I’m doing, okay? This beats trying to actually date this time of year.”

She considered that, tilting her head from side to side. “Seriously, though. Are you sure you want to do this? It’s just, he’s kind of—I don’t know—using you? And what for?”

“That’s a very good question and I’m not entirely sure what the answer is,” I told her honestly, shrugging my shoulder. The second bottle of wine certainly wasn’t going down as easily as the first. “Colin said something about keeping up appearances, so I’m guessing his board members, however that works, wanted him out on the street with a steady, long-term relationship on his arm to make his business look like the family empire it’s touted to be. Or he’s trying to make someone jealous and won’t admit it.”

“Bingo,” she replied around the rim of her wine glass.

I frowned at her, tucking my knees against my chest. “I know you think it’s weird.”

“It’s super weird.”

Another frown. “Liv, I swear I’m not in danger. Mason is actually seems like a good guy. He’s, like, how do I put this? Professional, proper?—”

“A gentleman?”

I nodded. “Yes, exactly. He seems like a gentleman, and Colin was telling me how shy Mason is, how this might be hard for him at first, something along those lines. So, in reality, I have the upper hand here.”

She arched an eyebrow at me. “So, he’s at risk of falling in love with you, then?”

I took a drink of my wine. “No one is falling in love with anybody, I swear.”

There was a twinkle in her eye, however. I knew what that meant. I’d known Liv for years. We met when I moved into my first apartment in the city. She put an ad out for a roommate and I answered, and for the next three years we lived together, sharing a one-bedroom apartment above her parents’ Chinese restaurant. While I moved out, wanting to be closer to the East Village, Liv still lived in our old apartment in Greenwich Village. Instead of waitressing at her parents’ restaurant, she managed the Book Haven, a cute up-and-coming hotspot that served up lattes and some of the most detailed smut I’d ever read in my life.

Liv adjusted her clear glasses on the bridge of her nose and swirled her wine, deep in contemplation. “So, about this dress…”

I grinned as I grabbed her knee, squeezing. I could tell she wasn’t totally convinced, but Liv was like me in a lot of ways, which was why she was my best friend. While she was totally right about this being one of the crazier things I’d ever agreed to do, she shared my sense of optimism. What could possibly go wrong? I fall in love and have my heart broken by a guy totally, one-hundred percent out of my league? It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Blue, blue, blue,” she hummed, tapping her manicured nails on the cheap plastic wine glass. “There’s that boutique a few blocks away. I can’t remember the name, but my mom knows the owner.”

I slouched against the couch cushions, staring up at the ceiling I’d yet to decorate with string lights. My mind was split between preparing for the many events Mason booked all of my weekends with until New Year’s and finishing decorating my apartment. I needed to get a Christmas tree soon. I needed to find a blue gown, not just a dress. A gown.

My gaze drifted over to the counter, to the credit card. He obviously wanted me to use it. Otherwise he wouldn’t have loaned it to me, right?

“I have an idea.”

Friday morning, clutching a scorching hot latte in one hand and Mason’s credit card in the other, I perused the racks at Vivaldi Boutique on Third Avenue, my heart damn near beating out of my chest. Liv stood beside me, fishing for every single blue gown in a size twelve that she could find.

I pulled a beautiful, sleek blue satin gown from the rack and winced at the price written neatly on the tag.

“Oh, that’s stunning!” Liv moved in on me, wide eyed.

“It’s seven grand,” I hissed back. “There’s no way.”

She motioned to the credit card, which I’d been holding in a death grip ever since I left my apartment this morning. I had a horrible vision of me sticking it in my wallet, then dropping my wallet down a storm drain, then a flash flood sweeping it away. Ridiculous, I knew. Still, I felt it was safer to just hold it my hand until the plastic melted through my fingers than losing it to some far-fetched calamity.

“Seven grand is nothing to a billionaire, Fia.” She motioned to the four gowns she’d found, tilting her head to a dressing room. “At least try it on.”

“Need any help?” A lovely young woman floated toward us, her trained customer-service smile casting us in a spotlight. “Oh, are you shopping for the Blue Winter Gala?”

“I—I am.” I tried to smile but my lips barely twitched. “Blue is the dress code, I guess.”

“Congratulations.” She grinned, tapping her nails together and looking at me like I was about to pay enough commission to cover her rent for the next three months. “Lucky girl. We’d better start pulling some options. It’s tomorrow, you know. No time for alterations now but we’ve got a lot of options.”

I pursed my lips to stop from frowning, but Liv gave me a little nudge. Now, we had help. That was better than trying to wade through this sea of atrociously expensive designer gowns by ourselves.

Before I knew it, I was in a dressing room being helped into dress after dress by Charlotte, a very kind associate, who turned out to be a great help. Charlotte knew her stuff and, thankfully, knew how to dress a body like mine. I’d never been stick thin. I didn’t have the kind of body seen in magazines or walking on runways.

She zipped up the first dress—a stunning blue lace number—but it didn’t look so stunning on me. She frowned, chewing on her lower lip. “This is a no. It does nothing for your waist.”

Again and again, I was undressed and redressed, occasionally made to step out into what I can only describe as a viewing dock, where Liv was living her best life with two other associates, drinking champagne and scrutinizing every detail of the gowns I tried on.

Liv, who liked to describe herself as having the body of teen boy, said, “None of this is doing anything for your tits, Fia. You need to put those babies on display.”

To my great surprise, everyone seemed to agree, and soon more dresses were brought out. Gone was the lace and beading, and in was the sleek, silken fabrics, jewel-tone blues, and dangerously low necklines.

“Oh, my God,” Charlotte breathed as she zipped me into the satin dress I’d found on the rack earlier. “You picked this out, didn’t you?”

I’d had my eyes closed while she helped me into it. I’d tried on ten dresses already and was losing hope. I opened one eye, then another, and gaped at my reflection in the trio of mirrors.

It fit me like a glove. My breasts were high and tight in a heart-shaped bodice, and thin shoulder straps showed off my shoulders, neck, and collarbone. The waist was tight and flattering, showing off the sharp pitch of my waist before clutching the soft curve of my hips.

Charlotte, slightly breathless, turned me around and marched me out to the viewing platform where everyone in attendance went perfectly, utterly still.

“Holy shit, that’s the one,” Liv gasped, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

“The color is perfect on you.” Charlotte nodded, walking around me to adjust the pale, sapphire blue fabric. “It makes your skin glow like gold.”

I turned to the mirror as the women around me started discussing jewelry and shoes to go with the dress and how I should style my hair. My reflection was shocking. I loved clothes. I loved to dress up and go out, but this felt different somehow.

Why was I thinking about how Mason would react?

I swallowed hard, turning back to the group. “I’ll take it.”