But tomorrow, I need to check in on Wyatt since I haven抰 seen him for a few days, so I text Dakota.
When you do tomorrow抯 coffee run, pick up eight Regis rolls. Make sure you抮e there early so they don抰 run out, and don抰 forget I want you on the call with the designer from Rome tomorrow. Tell her what American women want in a dress.
I hate that I keep a hand over my phone, anticipating her reply. I barely make idle conversation with Louis as he fights our way through late evening traffic.
When my phone buzzes, I bring it to my face so fast I almost drop the damn thing.
Dakota: Psycho hoarder, are you sure I抦 the right person to be on this call? I抦 not the type of girl who抎 pay for a luxury dress. For all I know, luxury dress shoppers might not even care about comfort.
I frown, wondering what kind of dress she picked out once upon a fucked up time. And what kind of shrimp-dicked little coward ruined what would抳e been the happiest day of her life?
Everyone cares about comfort, and you know the industry. Also, I haven抰 worn a dress before so my input counts far less than yours, I send back.
Dakota: You抮e such an asshat.
Lincoln: What did I do now?
Dakota: Don抰 worry. I抣l be there to bail you out.
A smile pulls at my lips, but doesn抰 fully form.
Are you okay? I start typing. If this is still bringing back bad memories, I抦 more than willing to?
No.
I erase the text and slap my phone against my thigh.
Nevermore made it perfectly clear she doesn抰 want special treatment. She wants to fight, even if that means stirring up the phantom pain of a marriage that never was.
I only wish I knew why that scrambles my brain until Louis looks back with obvious concern, and I punch the privacy screen up.
I wish like hell I could stop counting how many times I see her smile around the office. Especially those rare, bright moments when she stops dishing out her hot takes long enough to shut it and listen.
To meet my eyes with her soul.
To grin and laugh before she catches herself and hides her heart away again behind its moat of past hurts and overprotective dragons snorting pure sarcasm.
Dakota Poe抯 smile is not my problem, not my life, and not my concern.
It抯 just a rotten new addiction I need to stop cold fucking turkey.
Nevermore sails into my office in a black-pleated dress the next day.
揜ight on time for the call,?I tell her. 揚ull up a chair and I抣l put it on speaker.?
She pulls her chair around the desk next to me and sits. Her dress rides up a few inches, exposing a well-toned thigh.
It抯 like that leg has its own gravity.
My eyes want to jump right out of my head.
Fucking distractions.
A terrible part of me wants that dress up higher, though. A nastier part wants to shear it right off her, all the better to get my hot, tingling hands on her skin.
Would she still give me that mouth if these fingers put her in her place?
Would we finally understand each other if we fucked out this suffocating tension at a debased, animal level?
Off-limits, My reason growls. She抯 off-limits, you slobbering wolf.
I shake my head.
揑s something wrong??she asks, staring at me like I抳e sprouted a second head梐nd if I have, it wants to taste her too.
揘ot at all,?I lie, clearing my throat and shifting my weight.
Like clockwork, the call comes while I抦 still trying to quietly kill the hard-on from hell that has me shifting in my seat.
I punch the speaker button.
揌ey, Isabella. This is Lincoln Burns and you抮e on speaker. My assistant and copywriter, Dakota Poe, is joining us.?
揥onderful. I抦 the lead designer on your project,?she says in perfect English with a slight Italian accent. 揑抣l admit I抦 slightly confused by this call, sir. I was under the impression our designs were agreed and approved. Now you want changes??
Next to me, Poe tenses.
揅orrect. I抦 simply requesting a revision. My marketing team brought to my attention that there isn抰 much in the way of simple fit comfortable dresses available in our current lines. I抎 like to have a couple new choices produced with comfort in mind first and foremost,?I say diplomatically.
揥hat do you mean comfort? These dresses are art, made to your precise specifications,?Isabella practically spits through the phone, harsh and offended. 揧our bride will be draped in the finest silk that fits like a glove, Mr. Burns. What could possibly be more comfortable than looking like a goddess??
Nevermore gives me whale eyes, green and unsettled.
揑 have a few ideas,?I say coldly. 揟he whole point is trying something new, Isabella. There抯 certainly no one disparaging your work, past or present.?
I hear the woman take a deep breath, and so do I.
Before either of us can fire another barrage, Miss Poe cuts in.
揌i, this is Dakota. Ideally, we抮e looking for something that doesn抰 require a corset bra, full bridal slip, or shapewear,?she says. 揂nd you know any full gown requires a full slip or you抣l have shadows in the pictures, and no one wants that.?
揝o you want slip dresses? Three slip dresses? Even then, most women need their shapewear. Very few of us are born perfect,?the design lead says with a little less venom.
揟hat抯 the point. We want the dress to be perfect so the wearer doesn抰 have to be,?Poe tells her.
揧ou want me to build the undergarments into the dress? It抯 unorthodox, but I believe…yes, maybe I can do that.?
揚erfect,?I say, giving a satisfied nod.
Dakota抯 eyebrow shoots up and she whispers to me, 揌ow is that better? Being wrapped up like a sausage gets draining no matter where the wrapping comes from.?
揧ou抮e exaggerating. Why would anyone feel like deli meat if it抯 tailored??I grumble.
Her eyes narrow and dagger me.
揧ou just heard her say very few of us are perfect. Wedding dresses are made with models in mind,?she hisses under her breath.
揑 have no idea what you want. The only way to do what you抮e asking for is to go custom, and even then the options are limited,?I say.
揑f you go custom, what are the options that don抰 require any puffing or binding??Dakota asks.
揗aybe a slip dress for a slender woman. A simple A-line with a flowing skirt. I can抰 really think of anything else you抎 wear to a formal wedding,?I say, racking my brain.
揇o a long A-line then. If you can make it work, add an option for a train.?Dakota looks at me. 揌ow many dresses are in this line, anyway??
揊ive, but棓
揟he other two can be anything you want if you add options. Did you get that, Isabella??
I shoot her a look from hell. I thought I was the CEO.
揧es,?the designer says, sounding brighter. 揑t抯 possible.?
Dakota covers the speaker with her hand and flashes an eat-shit smile.
揧ou have to give the artist some creative room,?she explains, moving her hand.
揧ou have to give them rules as well, Miss Poe. Too much leeway and you抣l alienate my customers.?
揟hat抯 where the customizations come in. Plus, I know Italian silk isn抰 cheap. I抳e been doing a lot of reading.?
The hell she has.
At least it抯 a better way to spend her time than reading about me.
揑s there anything you don抰 think of, Mary Sue??I snap.
I shouldn抰 be defensive. Her input is solid. She just needs to remember I sign off on any and all decisions around here.
揑抳e shopped for wedding dresses before,?she reminds me with a bitter look. 揑f you don抰 want my experience, just say so.?
Her statement stirs my insides.