Read Online Fractured (Not Quite a Billionaire #2) by Rosalind James - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Rosalind James
Tags: Romance
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the latest reject, and Violet pulled out the last lonely dress from the rack, having pruned the collection considerably after her assessment of my less-than-considerable assets. “I was saving this one,” she said. “Maybe not willing to put it to the test, because if this doesn’t work…” She shrugged. “Well, if it doesn’t, we’ll find something else. But it’s brand-new, and my favorite, so I may be a wee bit prejudiced.”
I couldn’t tell from looking at it. It looked much like the others when it was on the hanger, except even simpler. A warm winter white, sleeveless—and “simple” was right.
And then Fiona put it on me and zipped it up the back.
“Oh,” Karen said with a sigh. She’d long since sat down on a stool in the corner, but now, she stood up and said, “It makes me want to touch it.”
“Bias-cut,” Violet said. “Silk charmeuse.”
It was all that and then some. The dress sported a relatively modest V-neck in front and back, and the cut was absolutely simple, the lustrous silk unadorned except for a two-inch band of translucent lace just below my breasts. But the exquisitely cut fabric draped as if it were caressing my body, somehow managing to look both entirely sensual and devastatingly classic, and my hands smoothed over it for exactly the reason Karen had said. Because I had to touch it.
“Yes,” Violet said with satisfaction. “Absolutely. No veil, of course. Too fussy.”
“Oh?” I asked. I had no idea. I was just relieved I’d found something to be married in. “It’s beautiful. Of course it is. But…will it look like a nightgown?”
“No,” she said. “Or only in the very best way. It’ll look perfect. Your hair pulled up, white rosebuds and pearls in it. You’ll look so virginal and delicious, every man there will wish he was Hemi. And Hemi will love knowing it, because he was born about three centuries too late.”
“Oh,” I said again. The look in her eyes—it was like she knew exactly how reprehensible Hemi could be, and I had to wonder how she did. And how suitable this conversation was in front of Karen, especially with me blushing pink. “I could probably find something like that online,” I said, to steer the conversation in another direction. “A hair ornament.”
“Oh, I think Hemi can do better than that,” Violet said. “I’ll tell him what you need, no worries. And he’ll get your hair and makeup sorted as well. If he hasn’t already made arrangements for that—let’s say I’d be surprised. Most managing fella I know, or let’s call him what he is. Absolutely, positively alpha, and aren’t you the lucky girl. And now, Fiona,” she went on briskly, “go on and take her measurements and get that off her, and we’ll do Karen.”
It had all taken barely half an hour, I found when I’d restored myself gratefully to some dignity by getting dressed again. I took Karen’s place on the stool, then, and watched Karen getting put through the Dress Grinder.
Karen had nice underwear, too, although much more modest than mine. Hemi hadn’t bought hers for her, or not exactly. He’d just taken her to the Shades of V store in San Francisco on a Valentine’s Day trip that had included her, because Hemi was sweet that way. He’d handed her over to an assistant, told them both to go wild, and taken me out for an impossibly romantic lunch at Sons and Daughters in Union Square, where he’d fed me lobster and champagne under glittering chandeliers, held my hand across the table, and looked at me like I was all he wanted to see.
You can see why I had no choice but to love him. And now, Karen was getting the full treatment, and the full enjoyment, too, with none of my mixed emotions. She ended up, after a half hour of her own, with another perfectly simple dress featuring a draped neckline and cap sleeves that flattered her slim figure through the torso, then flowed into a graceful bell shape beneath.
“In a buttery yellow,” Violet
I couldn’t tell from looking at it. It looked much like the others when it was on the hanger, except even simpler. A warm winter white, sleeveless—and “simple” was right.
And then Fiona put it on me and zipped it up the back.
“Oh,” Karen said with a sigh. She’d long since sat down on a stool in the corner, but now, she stood up and said, “It makes me want to touch it.”
“Bias-cut,” Violet said. “Silk charmeuse.”
It was all that and then some. The dress sported a relatively modest V-neck in front and back, and the cut was absolutely simple, the lustrous silk unadorned except for a two-inch band of translucent lace just below my breasts. But the exquisitely cut fabric draped as if it were caressing my body, somehow managing to look both entirely sensual and devastatingly classic, and my hands smoothed over it for exactly the reason Karen had said. Because I had to touch it.
“Yes,” Violet said with satisfaction. “Absolutely. No veil, of course. Too fussy.”
“Oh?” I asked. I had no idea. I was just relieved I’d found something to be married in. “It’s beautiful. Of course it is. But…will it look like a nightgown?”
“No,” she said. “Or only in the very best way. It’ll look perfect. Your hair pulled up, white rosebuds and pearls in it. You’ll look so virginal and delicious, every man there will wish he was Hemi. And Hemi will love knowing it, because he was born about three centuries too late.”
“Oh,” I said again. The look in her eyes—it was like she knew exactly how reprehensible Hemi could be, and I had to wonder how she did. And how suitable this conversation was in front of Karen, especially with me blushing pink. “I could probably find something like that online,” I said, to steer the conversation in another direction. “A hair ornament.”
“Oh, I think Hemi can do better than that,” Violet said. “I’ll tell him what you need, no worries. And he’ll get your hair and makeup sorted as well. If he hasn’t already made arrangements for that—let’s say I’d be surprised. Most managing fella I know, or let’s call him what he is. Absolutely, positively alpha, and aren’t you the lucky girl. And now, Fiona,” she went on briskly, “go on and take her measurements and get that off her, and we’ll do Karen.”
It had all taken barely half an hour, I found when I’d restored myself gratefully to some dignity by getting dressed again. I took Karen’s place on the stool, then, and watched Karen getting put through the Dress Grinder.
Karen had nice underwear, too, although much more modest than mine. Hemi hadn’t bought hers for her, or not exactly. He’d just taken her to the Shades of V store in San Francisco on a Valentine’s Day trip that had included her, because Hemi was sweet that way. He’d handed her over to an assistant, told them both to go wild, and taken me out for an impossibly romantic lunch at Sons and Daughters in Union Square, where he’d fed me lobster and champagne under glittering chandeliers, held my hand across the table, and looked at me like I was all he wanted to see.
You can see why I had no choice but to love him. And now, Karen was getting the full treatment, and the full enjoyment, too, with none of my mixed emotions. She ended up, after a half hour of her own, with another perfectly simple dress featuring a draped neckline and cap sleeves that flattered her slim figure through the torso, then flowed into a graceful bell shape beneath.
“In a buttery yellow,” Violet
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