Right Billionaire, Wrong Wedding (Sexy Billionaires)(59)

Together they entered the bridal boutique. White satin and gauzy lace veils filled the store. Mannequins boasted the latest gowns while real brides shopped through the wide selection of dress choices.

Marching straight for the receptionist, Allison said, “We’ve got a fitting appointment for King.”

The receptionist smiled. “We’re all ready for you. You can head back to our fitting area. There’s a couch for your fiancé to wait on.”

“Thank you,” she said, not bothering to correct the woman. It wasn’t worth the trouble, she reasoned. It had nothing to do with the way her heart leaped at the words.

The fitting area was far more spacious than she’d expected. Private rooms were arranged around a raised dais set before three way mirrors. Couches lined the wall, which Darian was quick to take advantage of.

“The King dress,” he said to the seamstress who came out to assist them.

“Right this way,” the woman said, ushering her toward one stall.

She turned back to Darian to see him salute her with the glass of champagne an assistant had brought him.

He got to drink while she was cinched into a torture device masquerading as a dress.

Figures.

“I understand you are the stand-in for this fitting, correct?” the seamstress said, carrying an armful of dress into the changing room.

“Yes, the bride will be arriving next week. I’m just here to help with the original fitting. Our measurements are similar, but she’s taller.”

“We can put you in heels and finish the hem later,” she said. “For now, let’s get you in the dress.”

“Did she choose something with a dozen petticoats? Or, don’t tell me, it lights up, doesn’t it?”

“I think you’ll be pleased.”

Unlikely. She’d never been one to watch those wedding dress shows on TV or moon after the prefect bride in the magazines.

But when the seamstress unzipped Jenny’s dress she caught her breath.

It was a strapless, with a sweetheart neckline she knew would show off cleavage. The bodice would be tight, but the full skirt burst from the waist, raining down in prefect folds. And best, the entire creation was covered with a delicate, minimalist lace overlay that elevated the dress into something magical.

“A lovely selection,” the seamstress said.

“Gorgeous,” she agreed, allowing the other woman to help her strip off her suit. Who would have thought wild-child Jenny had such sophisticated taste in clothes?

Reverently, she stepped into the white gown. She felt like a doll as the seamstress tugged the dress into place. With deft fingers, she did up the hook-and-eye closures down the back then declared her done.

Allison turned to view her reflection in the full-length mirror and sucked in a breath.

She’d never thought to wear a dress like this, even temporarily. For one thing, something this fine would be forever out of her budget. For another, this dress didn’t fit in her fantasy of a simple wedding.

No, this was a dress one wore to walk down the aisle, surrounded by high society at a beautiful vineyard setting. Jenny had chosen well.

Almost afraid to touch the delicate fabric, she smoothed a hand down the bodice.

“Beautiful,” the seamstress said.

“It really is,” she agreed.

While she stared at her reflection, enraptured, the seamstress went to work, noting where the gown needed to be taken in and any other alterations they’d need to make. Though it was slightly tight at the bust, Allison thought it already fit perfectly. Then again, the seamstress had Jenny’s measurements to compare to.

After all this wasn’t her dress. Or her wedding.

And for the first time since she’d moved to the city, she mourned the decisions she’d made that had led to that truth. Had she stayed home, her family would have seen to it that she’d met the perfect man. She’d probably be married and living in a house of her own by now.

Though she’d never been the sort of woman to daydream about a husband, she had to admit she rather liked the idea of having one person who would always be in her corner. One man she could love for the rest of her life.

Staring at her reflection, she knew exactly who she wanted that man to be.

What a hopeless wish.

“I think we’ve gotten all the measurements we can in here,” the seamstress said. “Let’s get you up on the dais outside and we’ll take a look at the hem. Here are your shoes.”

Obediently, Allison stepped into the towering heels that would make her Jenny’s height. Giving in to a ridiculous urge, she reached up to restyle her hair, leaving a few curls to gently frame her face while the rest were swept back.

“Would you like to put on the veil for the full effect?” the seamstress asked, holding the long, trailing piece of gossamer material.