“Oh? What is it?” The disappointment vanishes in a second and is quickly replaced by wonder. What the hell did he get me? What sort of things did billionaires get their ‘girls on the side’ anyway?
“You’ll have to wait and see!” He pushes me through the front door and with a nod to the small Selma Blair lookalike at the front desk he guides me to the elevators. As we step in to the elevator I feel his eyes on me and I remember the last time we were in this elevator, scrambling to make it up to the penthouse before ripping off each other’s clothes. This time it’s different though, this time the knowledge of Mrs. Lambert leaves me feeling guilty and afraid of being caught. He winks at me and I flash a quick smile back, I want so badly to ask him about his wife but I just can’t bring myself to do it. How do I even bring up the subject of him having a wife? ‘Hey I know we had a really great time the other night but the receptionist downstairs told me you have a wife…’ Something tells me that conversation wouldn’t go down well at all.
The elevator bobs to a stop and the doors open up to those large floor to ceiling windows leading to his front door. I remember my walk of shame and feel a pang of resentment for Gideon as I watch him open the penthouse door. When you look at everything so far the indications are good that I’m the ‘bit on the side,’ I’m not okay with that although Allison is convinced that I should be.
I follow Gideon through the front door and he head straight for the room where we were last together. The bed is freshly made and it looks as though no one has ever been in here let alone had a sex marathon in here. Gideon heads straight for the walk in closet and standing in the doorway he lets out an emphatic “tada!” I peer inside and see the room packed with dresses, stacks of undershirts, lingerie, shapers, stockings, shoes, purses…everything you could imagine. The place looks like he robbed a department store and had every designer in the world drop off a sample of their dresses. I look back to Gideon whose face is beaming.#p#分页标题#e#
“What…” I can’t begin to find the words I want to say “what is this?” I wait for him to explain that it’s his dead wife’s wardrobe and he’s bequeathing it to me in an oddly creepy gesture of generosity. Instead his face falls and he frowns at me.
“I figured you’d like to have something nice to wear tonight…” I scan through our previous conversations for any trace of what it is we were supposed to be doing tonight and I come up empty handed.
“Tonight?” I walk in to the closet and run my fingers along the rows of dresses. The range of fabrics brush my fingers and leave me feeling nostalgic over playing dress up as a child. Price tags flutter on every single one of them and I realize that they are all brand new, bought for the singular purpose of dressing me up to fit the part of the millionaire’s personal waitress.
“Didn’t I tell you?” I shake my head and mutter a ‘no’ as I continue to leaf through the incredible dress selection. “Christ, I’m sorry. There’s a huge political fundraiser this afternoon for one of my clients and I promised I’d be there…” He leaves the statement open ended and I have no idea what to think. “Pick something out that you’d like to wear, we have to leave at two. I need to meet up with a few people to get some final details worked out. Speaking of which…” Gideon checks his watch “I need to go and finish up a few things before we leave. I’ll be back to check on you.” He gestures around the closet, “Go to town.”
So the man of my dreams has stocked a closet full of clothes for his ‘girl on the side’ to look good while waitressing at some fundraising deal? I can’t begin to make sense of what’s happening here and to be honest every part of me wants to run. This feels like a fairytale with a twisted ending and I can’t understand just what I’m supposed to do. I slide my hand along the rack of dresses one more time. Lace, satin, tulle, cotton, flare cut, tightly fitted, evening gown, pinup style…this closet encompasses every girl’s wildest dreams. I let my hand come to rest on a beautiful white dress with a soft satin bodice. Hell, if I’m going to pick a dress, I might as well pick the hottest one of them all, even if all I’m going to be doing is serving stuck up politician’s cheese on a stick. I slip the dress off its hanger and the price tag dangles ceremoniously from the sleeve; I can’t help but take a look. $1,800. I have never worn an entire outfit that costs $1,800 with jewelry included, let alone a single dress! Still, if I’m going to be treated like the “other woman” I may as well take advantage of it.