Perry shifted out of sight, and when he reappeared, he was now holding a deep red dress. He waved it about with a flourish.
Maddie craned to see it better and was leaning almost horizontal to the seat now. Oh. Oh wow. That would look incredible on Elena.
“Mm. Acceptable. And I like this shade of scarlet. Well, more garnet, really, isn’t it? Give me a moment. Let me try it on.”
Elena stepped farther into her office, now out of Maddie’s line of sight. Probably to change behind the Japanese screen in the corner that Maddie had seen earlier. Perry was still by the door, sliding the blue dress back into its garment bag.
A few minutes later, Elena spoke, her voice too low for Maddie to hear, and Perry spun around. She could see only a slice of his back and nothing of her boss. Damn it.
“Gorgeous.” He sounded impressed. He took a step backwards, back into Maddie’s line of sight. “Better lighting by the door,” he said. “Can you step forward? Oh yes. Turn? I need to see the cut at the back.”
A flash of red swirled into view and then was gone.
Maddie wanted to groan in frustration. And now her straining neck was hurting.
“Yes. Perfect,” Perry said.
“Heels?”
“In the bag. A besotted offering from Stuart Quinz. Personalised. You’ll see.”
A rustle sounded, and then came a low, feminine purr of approval that made Maddie swallow hard.
“Oh my. Please thank Stuart. Now the dress…whose is it? Duchamp? Or someone else? If I’m to be catapulting some new designer into the stratosphere by wearing it, tell me it’s someone worthy at least.”
“You were right the first time. Véronique Duchamp.”
“Ah,” Elena said. “Perfection as always. All right. Good choice, not that she needs more publicity. But her dress will do nicely.”
“Excellent.” Perry took another step backwards and was now outside of the office. He reached forward, fingers wiggling. “I have to say, the flow from the bust is sublime.”
Maddie leaned far off her chair, desperate for a peek at the “sublime” bust in question. She lost her war on gravity, and, after a comical three seconds trying to stop herself from falling, her thud was both loud and humiliating. She scrambled to her knees.
“What on earth…?” Elena stepped out of her office, hands on hips, and pinned Maddie with a cool stare.
Maddie gazed up at the vision before her. The dress was…oh. Perry wasn’t wrong. It clung to every curve. It was gorgeous. Stunning. And the bust? Oh God. Wow. The garment’s cleavage went all the way down to Elena’s stomach, showing a tantalising triangle of smooth, flawless skin. Maddie could see the swell of bare breast from either side of the dress, and her mouth went dry. She slid her gaze higher and caught an incredulous look on Elena’s face.
“Um, hi?” Maddie pulled herself to her feet.
“Am I to take it from this dramatic display that you approve, too?” Elena asked.
Maddie blushed, lost for words. She nodded.
Perry laughed. “It must be good, she’s robbed of speech.” His eyes twinkled, and he turned back to Elena. “No adjustments needed. I’ll leave it with you and make my escape. You can have fun repairing Ms Grey’s stunted vocabulary.” He gave Maddie a wink, gathered the “mirror ball” blue dress, now stuffed back in its garment bag, and headed for the elevator.
“It’s so stunning,” Maddie said, still transfixed. “Who is Véronique Duchamp?”
“Perhaps the world’s greatest designer,” Elena replied, “which you’d know if you had even the slightest interest in fashion.” She spun around and went back to her office.
Maddie followed. She rounded the corner and found the media boss standing at the window, staring out.
“How can anyone get to be as old as you are…what, mid-twenties?…and fail to grasp even the basics of fashion?” Elena asked the glass in front of her.
Maddie thought about what Perry had said, that people who didn’t acknowledge the part of Elena that loved fashion failed in her eyes. She wondered how to answer the question truthfully.
“Fashion speaks to everyone differently. I mean, while it never really interested me—”
“I’m shocked.” Elena’s tone was mocking but contained amusement too.
Maddie shoved her hands in her jeans pockets, her gaze sliding over the beautiful back before her. The scoop in the back of her dress ended just above the curve of her ass. It was exquisite. The dress, not her ass. Actually, no. Both were. “But it doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the beauty of fashion. Especially when it’s right in front of me.”
There was a silence, and Maddie lifted her eyes, finding Elena had been watching her in the window’s reflection. Their gazes locked.
“And how do you know what beauty is if you don’t understand the most basic thing about style?”
“I have eyes.” It came out more as an exhale, and Maddie saw surprise in Elena’s reflection.
Maddie glanced down, unsure what she was doing, because she sure as hell couldn’t be flirting with Elena Bartell. That would be insane. She noticed a silver frame on Elena’s desk. Between pictures of powerful billionaires and elite fashion designers was a photograph of Elena with her husband. She stared at it. At him. His expression was so predatory. Why did the smug bastard always look so hungry? In every online photo she’d ever seen, he always looked the same.
Out of her periphery, she saw Elena turn from the window and notice what Maddie was looking at.
Elena’s face shifted from intrigued to cool. “So…you don’t look Japanese.” Her voice was now all business.
“Uh…no?”
“The next visitor I expected in here was Mihoko Morita. Unless Style Tokyo’s editor-in-chief has become an Australian with a cult-band fetish, you are not her.”
“Oh, well, I think Felicity’s picking her up right now. That’s why I’m here, not her. She asked me to drop this off.” Maddie put the USB stick on Elena’s desk.
