“Of course.” Willow had drawn a phone from the inside pocket of their suit jacket, again seeming completely unfazed. “My sister has a specialist she loves. Let me ask her for the number.”
“See if she has a stylist she likes, too.”
“For tonight?” Fliss had asked him.
“And the foreseeable future,” he’d replied, adding to Willow, “Someone stronger in procurement than opinions. Fliss knows what she wants. Make dinner reservations at that place my mother likes. Warn them that my father will be with us so they can have a steak on hand. I’ll text if I think of anything else.” He’d checked for his phone, then he’d dropped a kiss onto Fliss’s pouted mouth. “Willow is extremely trustworthy. You’re in good hands.”
Seconds later, he’d been gone and she’d been alone with the stranger.
“My sister,” Willow had said with a satisfied smile as their phone had pinged. “The office won’t be open yet, but I’ll set up a call to interview the doctor as soon as I can get through.”
“Thank you. Saint ordered breakfast.” Fliss had waved toward the kitchen where they had eaten at the island bar. She hadn’t put it away yet. “They must have thought we were a party of thirty. There are pastries and fruit medley for days. Would you like something?”
“I’ve eaten, thanks, but I’ll make myself a coffee.” Willow had gone to the industrial grade espresso maker behind the island. “Can I make one for you, too?”
“I prefer tea, but I’ve had enough for now. You don’t seem shocked that I’m here. Or that I...need a specialist.”
“I expect the unexpected, working for Saint.” Willow had reached unhesitatingly into the various cupboards, clearly familiar with the layout. “It’s funny because a lot of my days are very boring. He travels and leaves me with reports to analyze, or I’m picking up dry cleaning. I start to think I’m overpaid and underutilized, then he drops a jigsaw puzzle on the table and tells me to finish it by lunch.”
“Am I the jigsaw puzzle?” Fliss had guessed.
“You are. But I love puzzles,” Willow had said, lips tilted with amusement.
“Me, too. I used to do them with my granny.” Fliss had smiled. Maybe she didn’t need to be so intimidated by Willow and their ultra-efficient manner after all.
In truth, they got along like a house on fire. The stylist, Regina, was nice, too. The only hiccup occurred when Fliss balked at ordering more than a handful of items on top of the dress she had picked out for the evening.
She was used to making her own clothing or buying from consignment and altering or embellishing to make a piece her own. There was also the fact that whatever she bought today wouldn’t fit her for very long, which Willow picked up on, waiting until Regina had left to say, “Saint wants you to have everything you need for the foreseeable future. That includes maternity wear. If you’re not ready to tell Regina, we can work around it, but I’m confident she could source some items without revealing who they’re for.”
“I’ll think about it,” Fliss murmured, but she really wanted to keep her pregnancy under wraps for as long as possible, certain it would put her in the spotlight again.
By the time Regina returned with three racks of clothing and a metric crap ton of shoes, it was time for Fliss to get ready. Since her prep for the gala had failed to measure up to Saint’s usual crowd, she let Regina’s staff do her hair and makeup and even allowed Regina to alter her dress when she would normally do that herself.
She definitely felt like Cinderella when she was pronounced “ready” and made her way out of the spare bedroom and down the stairs.
Regina had leapt on Fliss’s appreciation for vintage styles with contemporary touches. She’d brought her a selection from an up-and-coming New York designer including this A-line style skirt in Mediterranean-blue satin with a black fitted bodice. It was off the shoulder while still being meet-the-parents modest. The sweetheart neckline made the most of her ample breasts while creating the illusion that she had a well-defined waist. Her shoes were a closed-toe Mary Jane with a medium heel.
Fliss felt like a screen legend from the black-and-white era but gripped the rail with tension as she came down, half fearing that Saint’s parents were here because she could hear him speaking.
He stopped mid-word when he saw her, saying into his phone, “My date is here. Forward that to my parents, and we’ll talk more tomorrow.”
He ended the call and came to the bottom of the stairs, trapping her on the bottom one so they were eye to eye.
She held her breath as he took in her hair, scooped into a simple twist, her red lips, her bare shoulders and cleavage, then came back up.
“So you do like my taste in earrings.”
“These aren’t the earrings?” She touched the very artistic scroll of blue-and-white stones. Regina had said they would go perfectly with her dress, so Fliss had assumed the other woman had picked them herself from some high-end costume jewelry.
“They are,” he confirmed, making her stomach feel funny.
“But you’re not giving them to me,” she protested. “I said I didn’t want any,” she reminded, wondering if this meant he’d rather give her sparkly rocks than respect or regard.
“I collected them on my way to Nottingham, so I already had them when you said you didn’t want them.” His face blanked into the remote expression that was so hard to read. “Would you rather not accept them?”
“They’re worth a fortune! It’s stressful to wear things this expensive.” The dress and shoes were already a lot to worry about. “Why do you want me to wear them?”
“Because you like them and they suit you?” he suggested pithily.
“It’s not because...”
“What?”
“Are you trying to prove something or... I don’t know,” she mumbled as she saw his expression darken.
“I don’t care about anyone’s opinion but yours. If you like them, then I want you to have them and wear them.”
“Thank you.” Fliss touched her lobes to ensure each earring was secure. Her stomach was full of snakes. “I feel like you’re mad at me now, and that wasn’t my intention. I’m just nervous.”
“I’m not mad,” he said in that acerbic voice. “Not at you. I’m only realizing that the earrings will be noticed and remarked on and that will make you self-conscious. I want you to be able to enjoy wearing a pair of damned earrings if you want to.”
“What an apt description. That’s what I’ll call them from now one. My damned earrings.”
Saint didn’t react, only stared at her.
“Sometimes my sense of humor is misplaced,” she admitted with a wrinkle of her nose.
“Now that you’ve found it, keep it,” he drawled, helping her down the final step. “It’ll help you get through dinner.”
“Because they’re going to hate me?” she asked with dread as they waited for the elevator.
“My father hates everyone. Don’t take it personally.”
“And your mother?” she asked as they stepped into the elevator.
He sighed. “Mother has always believed her looks are her only asset. Dad has never given her credit for bringing more to their marriage than beauty. As such, she despises any sign of aging. The title of grandmother will be a knife to her heart.”
“Do we have to do this in public?” she asked as they exited and stepped into the waiting car.
“We do,” he said firmly.
The drive wasn’t far. The restaurant was smallish, obviously very exclusive given the way they were escorted from the curb up carpeted steps that were protected by a black awning lit by fairy lights. They were handed off to a middle-aged maître d’ who had the air of someone who had made a career out of this work.
“Mr. Montgomery. Welcome. I just seated your parents. Please follow me.”
Saint had taken hold of Fliss’s hand as they’d left the car. He had to feel how clammy her palm was, but he forged the way, allowing her to trail behind him as they wound through the full tables. She tried not to crane her neck, even though she recognized a few celebrities. It was disconcerting to realize they were looking back, noticing Saint and maybe recognizing her from her photos.
She tried to focus on the clothes as a distraction, and it worked a little too well. She nearly crashed into Saint when he stopped walking. He steadied her as he brought her to stand beside him.
