Page 136 of Hate to Love You
She reaches for the next bag.
Yeah, this isn’t going to work at all.
Sighing heavily, I stand to my feet.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?” I ask politely.
“Oh god! I’m so sorry. I’m Mimi.” She says, twirling around on the spot, “the owner!”
“They call you a ‘witch’, right?”
“Ha! You bet they do,” she says, rocking on the balls of her feet.
“Look, I need you to be the biggest baddest witch for me today, I don’t want this,” I say, gesturing to the dresses she currently has out for me to try on. “While they’re lovely, they aren’t quite right. For me.”
She goes to respond but I hold up my hand.
“What I need is something that suits my needs for this event.”
“Oh…okay,” she says, swallowing loudly, “What is it that you need?”
“I thought you were the biggest baddest dress witch in town?” I say, crossing my arms. “Work your magic.”
With a grin, she nods, darting back out of view.
“Miss Wayne,” she yells from the back, “Could you help me with this?”
Following her voice, I step through the drapes as I navigate the messy backroom, stepping over boxes and garment bags as I go.
Suddenly, a door marked ‘authorized personnel only’ flies open, and Mimi’s head pops out from behind it. Glancing round, she gestures with her head to come inside.
This is weird.
“Miss Wayne, I feel like I should be honest with you. A man called just after you did,” she whispers, closing the door. “He said you had to have one of these four dresses as well as all accessories, and that he would come pay for it later. He said he’d be watching.”
Oh no he did not…
“Did he leave a name, Mimi?” I ask, keeping my tone measured as my blood pounds in my ears.
“Mr. Antonov,” she whispers, making herself as small as she can.
“Did he say which dress he wanted?” I snap back, before taking a deep breath.
“The yellow one.”
“You mean the mustard dress which would make me stand out like a sore thumb?”
She looks up at me, her eyes wide as a frosting of tears begin to form.
“You don’t like my dresses?” she asks, her voice small.
Fuck.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” I say, walking toward her, “I didn’t mean it like that.”
I pause, my mouth opening and closing as I try to think of the words to explain.
“Look, the truth is, Mr. Antonov can be quite…opinionated. And pushy. It’s almost like he enjoys getting under my skin. And when he’s buried deep in there, well, let’s just say I’m not the best at handling my reaction.”