“No, I don’t, and looking dreary is what should make you uncomfortable, Kate,” he calls.
I roll my eyes.
A hanger with a shirt on it comes flying out and lands on the floor.
“What are you doing?” I frown.
“Cleaning out this shit-pile of a closet.”
“Now? It’s nine p.m.”
“I can’t find anything in here.”
“What are you talking about? It’s completely organized into sections,” I fire back.
“There’s the crap section and then there’s the really crap section,” he mutters dryly; another hanger comes flying out and lands on the floor. “What even is that?”
I listen to him rattle around in there, a pair of shoes comes out and then another few hangers. “What about shirts? Where are the shirts you wear?”
“For God’s sake, are you blind?” I get out of bed, go in, and point to the shirt section. “Right here.”
Daniel frowns as he looks through the choices. “This is it?”
“Aha.”
“I’m taking you shopping as a matter of urgency.”
“I can’t afford Givenchy, Daniel.” I sigh.
“You don’t have to spend a fortune to look good, Kate.” He curls his lip as if I’m clueless, then he holds up a shirt and looks at it and shakes his head. “Where the fuck did you get this?”
“College.”
His eyes widen. “You’ve had this shirt since college?”
I shrug. “I guess.”
“Dear God.” He keeps flicking through and then pulls out a long black dress; it’s fitted and sleeveless and in a casual material. He holds it up against my body. “This I can work with.” He thinks for a moment. “Actually, I have a bag of samples in my car, I think there’s a shirt in there.” He rushes from the room, I hear him run down the stairs and the front door open. Moments later I hear him take the stairs two at a time. I smile; this really is his calling, he just loves it.
Back in my room, he unzips the bag and pulls out a black shirt and smiles. “This.”
I frown as I stare at the shirt. “That?”
“Over the dress.”
I screw up my face. “What?”
He grabs my shoulders and turns me back toward my bed. “Just trust me, I’ve got this.”
I stare at myself in the elevator mirror. The image is unfamiliar. I’m wearing a long, black straight skirt that also moonlights as a dress. A black fitted button-up shirt over the top with a few buttons undone. A patent leather belt strategically placed to cinch in my waist, and black high heels from my cousin Mary’s wedding.
My blonde hair is out and styled and I’m wearing makeup, not a lot, but more than usual. I don’t dress up this much to go out, let alone for work.
And I don’t know why I’m choosing now to do it . . . but I have . . .
I let out a shaky exhale as the nerves dance in my stomach.
I’ve got a meeting with Elliot this morning and am on my way up to his office right now. I glance back up at my reflection and I cringe. Oh, this is stupid, what the hell am I doing? I hit the level sixteen button, I need to get off. I can’t see him looking like this.
He’ll know.
The elevator flies past level sixteen and I close my eyes. Shit.
The doors open on the top floor and I drop my shoulders as I step out and into the reception area, all black with a trendy black timber feature wall. Huge gold letters tell me exactly where I am, as if I could ever forget.