Page 27 of For Your Eyes Only
Growing up in Italy, I would read about the fashion shows in Milan and dream of visiting the city for fashion week. It never happened, but I did see photos of the designer stores there. I would get the patterns and recreate them in my costumes.
Now I’m in one of those stores. Maybe it’s a secret how I can afford to be here, but I’m here.
Pausing in front of an antique wardrobe filled with separates, I admire a skirt with an oversized poppy design in pinks and vibrant purples and greens on a navy background. The solid-navy top has long sleeves that are puffed at the shoulders. It’s beautiful, but my breath inhales sharply when I turn and seethe dress.
It’s red crimson, the same as the ribbons on my costume last night. The bodice is form-fitted with a flared skirt like a mermaid, and the best part is the bust. It’s composed of two small cups that rise up like clam shells to provide coverage.
“This.” My voice is hushed, and a tickle is in my lower stomach when I imagine Trip seeing me in it.
He won’t care who I am when his eyes land on “the girls” in this dress. It’s incredible.Does this mean I’m going to accept his offer and see him?
“It’s from this year’s ready-to-wear collection.” The store clerk smiles.
“May I try it on?” I’m almost afraid to ask, but she takes it off the rack at once.
“Size… eight?”
Blinking fast, I glance down at my bust. “Twelve?”
“Of course!” Her voice is bright. “I have two others you might like as well.”
She escorts me to a room with quilted cream fabric on the walls. Soft chairs are arranged around the room and a small, round platform is positioned in front of a three-way mirror. I wish Bianca were here to share this experience.
First, I try on a white chiffon dress with a thin, black belt. It has small pleats along the collar, which is pinned tight around my neck, and it’s too modest. I don’t want to look like a baby. I’m a woman, and I’m coming out of the cocoon.
Up next, a bright yellow design reminds me of something Audrey Hepburn would wear. It’s fitted all the way down to my knees, and a flared ruffle goes over the shoulder and down one side. It’s fine, but my original selection, the whole reason for me being in this fitting room, is the clear winner.
I step into the red dress and straighten as the clerk zips up the back for me. With my spiral curls falling around my shoulders and those red cups just covering my full breasts, we both gasp.
“It’s perfect.” We speak at the same time.
I don’t even look at the total when she rings me up. I pass over a stack of cash, thick because much of it is small bills, and she makes a little noise before giving me change. She probably thinks I am a hooker paying this way, but I don’t care. I couldn’t be happier.
Strolling down Worth Avenue, I step into the Lilly Pulitzer store. I’m not the biggest fan of her dizzying patterns and babydoll styles. I want to look sophisticated, but I do take a beach coverup off the rack and buy it.
Finally, I’m in Valentino, which is as pink as Barbie’s dream house. Walking through the store, I’m not sure how I feel about the intensity of this hue. Still, I can’t resist a pair of candy-pink Mary Jane platforms.
Even if I never wear them out in public, Bianca and I can figure out a way to work them into my choreography.
My head is in the clouds, and I’ve forgotten all about the inferiority complex dragging me down when I left the house. I’m carrying designer bags full of gorgeous clothes. My chin is high, and I smile up at the towering palms when a low voice makes me yip.
“Giana?” I almost drop everything when I see him.
“Trip?”
“Sorry, I meant to sayGia.” It’s a baritone vibration I feel in my core, and my eyes devour him.
He’s dressed casually in a long-sleeved shirt rolled up to reveal his tanned, lined forearms. The jeans he’s wearing show off his lean physique, and he’s so effortlessly handsome.
“What are you doing here?” My heart beats so fast, I might have to sit down.
“I live here.” His full lips curl into a naughty grin.Is everything he does sexy?
“You do?” I look all around the shopping district. “I didn’t realize…”
“I don’t livehere, on Worth Avenue. I live a few blocks down by the water. I was just out for a stroll, like you?”
He glances down at me in black leggings and a loose sweater. Black Birkenstock sandals are on my feet, and thank God my pedicure is fresh.