She bats a hand away as she stands, rounding her desk to pull me into an embrace. “Hush, you sweet girl. That was all you. You just needed a little push, is all.”
When Charlotte releases me, she holds me at arms-length, the deep lines around her cheeks amplified in her wide smile. “So, will you be leaving me soon?”
This coerces a soft laugh from me. “Not anytime soon, but this will more than likely be my last Christmas party. Sorry to leave you with Nancy.”
She barks out her own laughter now, returning to her seat and pointing a sharp nail at me. “I’ll make Roman hire a man next time and get the poor girl laid. Then maybe she’ll be more tolerable. But not too tolerable, though. She fields calls like a Pitbull.”
I shake my head and sigh. “Speaking of the Christmas party, I still don’t have anything to wear.”
Charlotte’s dark eyes flash to me, and her grin blooms into a full-blown smile, a look in her eyes similar to Marge’s from earlier. “Actually, I think something was delivered to your desk a while ago.”
My head whips around, and I do, in fact, notice the large white box sitting on my chair. I must have been in such a rush and bothered by the empty office that I walked right past it.
Charlotte stands, pulling on her coat. “I better head out, but I’ll see you in a bit, dear.”
“Uh, yeah. I’ll see you.”
I follow her out, stopping as I near my desk. The gold script catches me off guard, and I’m barely able to mumble a goodbye as I read it.
Oscar de la Renta.
Who in the hell...
But I don’t really have to wonder because there’s only one person I know who can even afford it.
A knot forms in my throat, and my hands shake slightly as I open the box.
“Oh my God .”
I draw in a quiet gasp when my eyes take hold of the deep blue, velvet fabric. Already, I can tell it will be the most luxurious thing I’ve ever had the pleasure of draping over my body, and just like that, I contemplate even putting it on.
Why the hell would he get me this?
My mind flips through any possible reason why Roman Chen, my boss, and the biggest asshole I’ve ever met, would dare buy me something like this. We’ve been to three other Christmas parties together and none of which has he ever even given input to what I wear, let alone got me anything .
After a few more moments, I pull out my phone and dial Monica.
“What’s up?”
“I think—no—I know, Roman bought me a dress for tonight.”
I’m met with silence.
“Monica?”
“How do you know?”
“Because it’s an Oscar de la Renta,” I hiss out. “Who the hell else would get me a dress worth five grand. Damn sure wasn’t Trenton.”
“Nine grand,” Monica corrects me, giggling into the receiver. “I told you something was up between the both of you.”
“This is serious; stop laughing. Why would he do this?” The more I try to rationalize it, the dizzier I become, and eventually drop into my chair. My eyes find his office and an intense wave of butterflies flutter in my stomach.
“Do you think he knows you may be leaving? Maybe it’s a gift so you stay?”
I blink a few times to break the strange spell keeping my gaze locked on his dark office. “I mean, maybe? I don’t know.”
Monica yawns. “They probably called him for a reference, and he doesn’t know what else to do but shower you with gifts?”
I chew on the inside of my cheek and run a hand through my hair. It’s not a total reach. The woman, Ms. Stone, did say she would talk to my listed employer, but a kind, very expensive gesture wasn't what I had in mind for whenever Roman found out. I expected a much more hostile response.
“Are you going to wear it?”
I scoff, running a hand over the soft buttery velvet. “I don’t have a choice. The weather is getting worse, and I don’t have time to shop.”
“Well, get your ass moving and get ready. Send me pictures because I know you’re going to look sexy as hell, girl.”
“Thanks, Moni—”
“Or, it could always be for the reasons I’ve told you since day one. There’s something brewing between you both, and now he doesn’t have to worry about hitting on an employee.”
“Bye, Monica.”
I hang up before she can utter another word and make the situation even worse than she already has. Too much has happened in a day. Between getting a call back, finding out I may have a bit of a kink, and learning I’ve been unknowingly trying to be deviantly submissive, I’m exhausted.
On more than one occasion, I’ve had to freshen up in the morning after just barely making it when I rolled out of bed, so I created an emergency work bag. Rummaging through the bottom drawer of my desk, I find the satchel carrying my back-up palette, travel flatiron, and some bobby pins.
With one last look at Roman’s office, I grab the dress box and disappear into Charlotte’s office. Her full-length mirror is now my savior.
Though, with a gesture this bizarre, and my sudden wound nerves, I’m beginning to think I’ll need something else to save me tonight.
I’d prefer if it was clear, chilled, and rhymed with Sheila.
Tequila. I’m going to need Tequila.
I look delightful. No... that’s not the right word. Stunning? Gorgeous? Nope, none of those either.
Another half twirl and a glance at my ass, and the term shoots to the forefront of my mind. Delicious . Yep. That’s it.
Though the phrase may be cliché, the dress fits like a damn glove, forming to every curve I’ve been granted and accentuating both the girls up top and my derriere. Even with my mock neckline, my breasts appear even perkier, and the insanely low back meets the top of my ass in a dangerous kiss.
Just below the dip of my spine, the dress loosens, the long center thigh slit giving me ample room to walk without restrictions. Luckily, I already had Loubi Queen ankle strap sandals on, and they pair with the dress seamlessly.
My hair is pinned to the side, falling over my shoulder in long, uniform waves, and the style allows for me to discard my day's jewelry and only wear the small studs I had stashed in my purse.
Not to toot my own horn but... toot.
I don’t care what anyone may say, if you look good, you feel good, and I don’t even think nosey Nancy can mess up my current mood.
With a few extra minutes to spare, I go through a few emails and set an auto-response for the holidays, even though I know I’ll still be checking them periodically anyway. Satisfied, I power down the machine and gather all my items in a pile on my chair so I can grab-and-go when the party ends.
I adjust the dress and run my hands down the soft fabric as I reach the elevator, but when the doors slide open, the air evaporates from my lungs.