As we saunter further, the crowd becomes less of the hip and fashionable, and more mature and formal. I instantly feel uncomfortable in my backless dress and begin to tell Morgan that I’ll meet her by the bar when I get a glimpse of the breathtakingly handsome man dressed in an all-black tailored suit. His dress shirt, also black, is unbuttoned at the top, provocatively revealing the ridged curves of his throat leading to a well chiseled chest. He excuses himself from his stale conversation with a stuffy older gentleman and flashes a seductively crooked smile upon our approach. My heart races furiously as he takes in the three young women standing before him, gazing at us with an air of arrogance mixed with bad boy allure.
It’s Dorian.
Chapter Eleven
Aurora approaches Dorian with familiarity, beaming at him adoringly. “Dorian Skotos, this is Morgan Pierre, hair stylist extraordinaire.” She gently puts her hands on Morgan’s shoulders, as if she’s presenting her as a sacred offering to him. Morgan looks shocked and is rendered speechless. “And this is her friend….I’m sorry, honey, what was your name again?”
“Gabriella,” Dorian breathes, heatedly. It looks as if I’ve been momentarily frozen by his icy gaze that hasn’t left me since we approached him.
“Yes, that’s right. You two know each other?” Aurora asks, struck with disbelief. How could someone like him know someone like me? Her eyes dart rapidly between Dorian and I.
“We’ve met, yes,” I answer her snidely. I get what she was trying to say and I don’t appreciate it.
“Yes, Dorian, I mean, Mr. Skotos showed up at the same club we were at for Gabs’ birthday,” Morgan replies. I’m grateful that she doesn’t mention that he and I have been seeing each other since. I don’t need Dorian to think I have loose lips and I sure as hell don’t need Aurora in my business. If there’s one thing Morgan is, it’s trustworthy.
“Is that right? Well now that we’re all acquainted, I was just telling Dorian the other day about how great of a beautician Morgan is.” Aurora gracefully slides next to Dorian, resting her petite hand on his forearm. They know each other better than I initially assumed. The image of me breaking each one of those pretty little fingers of hers flashes in my mind.
“Oh thank you, Aurora, you are too kind,” Morgan says stiffly. This situation has clearly made her uncomfortable and she’s put her business face on.
“Well, it’s true! And for you to be so young and already so talented; just imagine the clientele she could bring to Luxe. And she already has quite a following at the place she is at now.” Aurora is laying it on pretty thick, and while everything she is saying is true, I don’t like her talking about Morgan as if she really knows her.
“Is that right? I do think a fresh, young perspective would be useful at this type of salon,” Dorian replies thoughtfully. I want to slink into the background, somehow blend in with the rest of the crowd, when Dorian turns his attention to me. “So what do you think, Gabriella? Do you think our more mature clientele would appreciate Morgan’s youthful appeal?” A smile plays at his lips.
I square my shoulders and look Dorian in his bright blue mesmerizing eyes. “I believe they would. Most women are in search of the Fountain of Youth, shelling out thousands on plastic surgery and temporary fixes to appear younger. Why not find out firsthand what fresh new styles are in? Morgan is a trendsetter; whatever is popular now, she was wearing it last season. I think she would be so much more than a beautician in your salon. She would be a style icon.” I look at Morgan proudly and she’s nearly gushing with gratitude. Dorian nods, letting my words sink in.
“Exactly! Well put, Gabriella. You really know your stuff. What industry are you in?” Aurora questions, eyeing me slyly. She inches closer to Dorian, no doubt, to rouse me.
“Retail,” I state dryly.
“Oh?” Aurora says, amused. “A buyer at Macy’s?” I can see what she’s trying to do, and I will not be her fool.
“A sales clerk,” I proclaim as if I’ve just told her I own my own boutique showcasing lavish couture.
“Oh.” Aurora remarks, smugly. “Well if you ladies will excuse us, I need to introduce Dorian to some very important potential clients. Morgan, I’ll see you next week!” And again, she gives her double air kisses. “And it was good meeting you, Gabriella. I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon.”
I’m sure we will, bitch. “You too, Aurora,” is all I can muster without sounding totally fake. Just a slore in designer shoes, I tell myself, secretly wishing she’d trip over her fiercely gorgeous heels.