Three and a Half Weeks(181)
“Thank you for calling. I just learned about the… sale and I wasn’t sure exactly how I felt about it. You may or may not know but I was not directly involved in either the decision to sell nor the execution of the resulting transaction.”
“Trust me, Mr. Blackmon: this is a win-win transaction. Normally, I wouldn’t consider Russian-made products but this one is exceptional. I suspect that all parties will eventually be satisfied, bar none, if you understand my meaning.”
“Yes. I believe I do and sincerely hope that is the case. I am not a vindictive man; however, I would like to pursue my life without… complications.”
“Please do not concern yourself on that point. I have everything well contained. I wish you a good day, Mr. Blackmon.”
“And I you, Mr. Haddad. Thank you.”
“It is I who should thank you. Goodbye, sir.”
Chapter 50
In a sumptuously appointed room devoid of any vibrant color, the oversized ebony-framed cheval mirror reflects an astonishing image: my face on a slender body with a waistline too tiny to be real… yet it is real and it is mine, squeezed into nothingness by a white satin corset, which is part of the dress. I chew my lip, trying to decide if I could bear the pain of the garment for hours on end. It always comes down to the same thing: how much pain I’m willing to bear for the sake of one man. I would chuckle if I weren’t in such a cantankerous mood.
“Oh, Ella, that is magnificent, so Jane Austen-ish,” Mariah exclaims.
“Stop using words like magnificent so early in the game or the decision will be far worse than it would be otherwise,” I snap at poor Mariah, and then look over to my future mother-in-law. “What do you think, Faith?”
The older woman claps her hands together, apparently delighted just to be in the bridal salon with us. “Vera Wang is my absolute favorite wedding gown designer but I do like this one. It’s very demure. And it looks marvelous on you, Ella. A British designer, you say?”
I nod. The designer is up and coming, so says Madame Xavier who runs the salon. Like Faith, I much prefer Vera Wang’s designs, too. In the first group of five gowns I’ve selected to try on, two are Ms. Wang’s creations.
“Ella, I’ve taken a photo of this one. Bring on the next,” my forgiving friend says. I’ll make up my snarkiness to her for sure. I’m still working on pairing her up with the brawny Mason. All that muscle to manhandle has to be worth some bitchiness from her best friend.
“Okay,” I mumble, pivoting around to return to the dressing room. Because the salon was almost completely booked for the next six weeks, I had to take whatever opening Madame Xavier had available, and it fell on a day of the month when I’m bloated, uncomfortable, and massively cranky. Yes, I could have used Ian’s name to throw my weight around… or even mention that I’m a bestselling author, but I generally choose not to exercise that kind of obnoxious clout.
Contributing to my overall dissatisfaction is the fact that Ian is in DC on a business trip. He wanted me to come and I wanted to accompany him but I had this freaking appointment. Something is going on with Ian and it’s causing problems between us. It reminds me of the beginning of our relationship, the second beginning, I should clarify, when we held back and kept secrets from one another. Since we began to be brutally honest—the day I returned from my drugged ordeal with Lucien—our relationship has fared so much better. There’s less tension and far less domination tendencies by Ian. I hope we’re not regressing.
Ian wants me to continue life with a bodyguard and I don’t want to have that yoke around my neck. He claims that the thing with Natasha is over but he won’t tell me exactly how. I don’t understand what he’s keeping from me nor why. A showdown between us is imminent.
After trying on all five of the first batch and being wowed by none, I select a second group of four. The first one she hands me is a dress by a young American designer named Janey Sinclair. The dress is a simple satin shift. It’s strapless, hugs the body almost indecently and covers from breast to mid-thigh. Over the satin shift is a gossamer tulle overlay with a taffeta skirt. It is a full gown and flares out from a vee just below the waistline. The bodice is much more demure than the shift though completely see-through: it has a gentle scoop neckline and three-quarter sleeves. It is an ethereal beauty that enhances my figure and yet feels comfortable in motion. As I step out of the dressing room, I see jaws drop and I’m pretty sure I’ve found my gown.
When the right one comes along, you just know it.