Chapter 49
1583words
'Gina," I muttered under my breath, 'why did it have to be Gina?"
Gina Arlison was an ironically-named diamond heiress who Nicholas had dated off and on for the better part of two years. She had become a regular fixture at the house (along with about half a dozen others), and as such, she still had leftover clothes in several of the closets.
Things had finally ended for good when Nicholas saw for himself what the rest of us had been telling him for months. The girl didn't have a brain. Just very, very large breasts. (He had a habit of confusing the two.) They had split, as amicably as was possible, and not two weeks later—she had married a billionaire oil tycoon from Texas. I think Nicholas was actually hurt.
To be frank, I really didn't have the giant curves to pull this kind of dress off. While her ample bosom had stretched the fabric to its limit, the silk hugged comfortably around me, clinging like a second skin. A shimmering sapphire kind of skin that exactly matched the color of my eyes.
'Why couldn't he have dated the kind of girl who would wear an entire dress?" I groaned, rotating in front of the bathroom mirror in dismay. The huge cutouts revealing wide portions of my ivory skin were particularly troublesome. Especially considering it was winter in New York. 'Maybe she also left a coat in here...?"
Sure enough, an ankle-length trench coat was hanging just inside. The kind that was tailor-fitted to make me feel like I was in a designer version of the Matrix. There was even a pair of sparkling Louis Vuitton stilettos to match.
I swept up my fountain-curled hair when I was done, securing it in the kind of tendril-draping up do it did so well, and touched up my makeup from the night before. When I was finished, I stepped back to survey the finished product.
'Not bad. A little fucking formal for a day at the office, but not bad at all."
By the time I wandered back downstairs, I was actually feeling quite confident indeed. At least, I was until I ran into Nicholas in the kitchen.
The second he saw me, a very peculiar expression flashed across his face. He dropped his eyes immediately, but couldn't manage to hide his smile.
At once, my stomach was sick and my hands were clammy.
Oh gosh—I looked ridiculous! Why hadn't I just asked to run home so I could change into my own clothes? You know—something that required more fabric than a scarf?!
'I know, it's not..." I blushed and looked down, sweeping a stray curl back out of my face. 'Clearly, it's not something I would usually—why are you making that face?!"
'I'm sorry," he bit his lip with a grin, 'it's just...I've taken off that dress many times."
Many, many times.
My face blanched, as my hands nervously smoothed it down. 'Well, believe it or not, it was actually the warmest dress I could find. And by warmest, I mean..."
He laughed softly.
'I know exactly what you mean."
Of course he did. He had fucking dated the girl in this dress.
All at once, I felt incredibly uncomfortable.
'You know what—I'm just going to call a cab and go home really quick to change. I'll be back in less than an hour, and then the two of us can sit down and come up with a list of—"
'Absolutely not—we're going out!"
He grabbed my wrist in a blur of speed, and started pulling me towards the door. I looked around desperately for Louise—surely, she wouldn't allow me to wear such a thing—but he had already pushed the door for the elevator, and before I knew it, we were heading down.
'Nicholas," I pulled the coat protectively around me, an unintentionally pleading tone coloring my voice, 'wherever you want to go, whatever you want to do—I can meet you there, okay? There's no need for me to—"
He held up a silencing hand, staring down at me with a slight frown.
'Ms. Winchester, you were contracted to be my publicist, isn't that right?"
This again. Shit.
I sighed and bowed my head.
'Yes."
His eyes twinkled.
'And as my publicist, it's your responsibility to be available whenever I go out into the public eye, correct? To be on hand in case there's any...trouble?"
I didn't like the sound of this.
'...yes."
His face lit up with another victorious smile.
'In that case—I'm afraid I'm going to need you around. And furthermore, I'm afraid there won't be any time for you to change out of that incredible dress."
My teeth clenched, but I forced my glare into a dangerously sweet smile.
'And what might we be doing, pray tell?"
The doors opened, and he gazed out towards the horizon.
'Today...we're going to get into a little trouble."
The players: Nicholas Huntington and Avery Winchester.
The stage: All of New York City.
The objective: To cause as much mayhem as possible.
To be fair—that was Nicholas' objective, not mine. While as a publicist, I should have been focused on stopping him, my only real goal became to somehow stay inside my dress.
'This is, without a doubt, the cruelest thing you've ever done to me."
A gust of wind threw open my trench coat once more, and I yanked it shut. The winter winds and busy pedestrian streets hadn't been kind to my particular ensemble, but Nicholas was in such festive spirits, he didn't seem to mind.
'That's not true," he countered, cheerfully pausing to take a selfie with some adoring fans. 'What about the time I took you to the serpentarium?"
A belated shudder ran up my spine.
'I thought we had agreed to never talk about that..."
A practiced grin spread up the side of his face, as he knelt down to be at the same height as two middle-school-aged girls. A neon flash lit up their faces, then he turned that grin to me.
'I think it was a day of existential growth. Facing your fears, and whatnot."
I studied him carefully for a moment, then turned sharply on my heel.
'I quit."
'Oh—come on!" He flashed the twelve-year-olds a conspiratorial wink, before taking off after me, weaving his way through the crowd. When he finally caught up, I was in the process of hailing down a cab. He arrived just in time to wave it away again. 'Avy—I'm sorry, okay? I was actually taking you out today to apologize."
'To apologize," I repeated caustically. 'You were. Really."
Again—they weren't phrased as questions.
"Of course." His blue eyes widened with angelic innocence. "How could you doubt me?"
I smiled sweetly, matching his angelic demeanor.
"For what, pray tell, were you apologizing?"
"For your dress. For your date. For... the lobster." He leaned in closer, trying hard to suppress a smile. "I'd really appreciate it if you'd let me call up Camden—apologize in person."
Indignation mixed with amusement bubbled within me. I turned away, hiding my grin from him.
"You'd do that?" I asked, playing along. "For Camden? For me?"
His eyes twinkled mischievously—he knew he had me.
"Well, you know I'd do anything for Camden. And for you...? I could make a call."
I couldn't help but smile reluctantly, and the tension dissipated once again.
This playful exchange was nothing new between us. Ever since Nicholas had discovered the wonders of the New York subway system, I had quit at least once a week over the past year.
"So, you're apologizing, huh?" I prodded as we resumed walking.
To my surprise, he offered me his arm. It wasn't unprecedented, but despite our banter, we usually stuck to specific roles. This morning, however, I accepted gratefully. I had already slipped twice on the winter ice.
"Yes," he replied cheerfully, "I have quite the apology planned. But first," he suddenly ducked into a store, pulling me along, "we need to make a few stops."
I caught my breath, holding onto his arm for support as he led me inside. Blinking in the fluorescent light, confusion washed over me.
"Dior?" I blurted out, suddenly feeling uneasy.
I had just been in Dior the other day—for only the second time in my life. Well, millionth time in terms of clients. Only the second time for myself. It was to buy a certain dress for a certain date that a certain someone had interrupted. It had been a rare splurge—a dress that set me back several months of rent. None of that should have been a problem—except the dress had mysteriously gotten soaked in a fountain.
Needless to say, I wasn't particularly thrilled to be back right now.
"What are we doing here?" I asked nervously, attempting to withdraw my arm as Nicholas wandered up and down the aisles. "You do realize you're in the women's section, right?"
Not that he was a stranger to it...
"Oh—Mr. Huntington!"
