I watch as Raina places her hands on her hips, stepping forward as she glares at the person behind me. “What are you doing here, August?” she demands.
Reacting, I quickly pull myself from the couch and turn so I’m standing by her side.
Ignoring her, August turns his attention toward me, a devilish smirk pulling at his lips. “What’s the matter, Vinnie? I thought you’d be happy to see me.”
“Am I ever?” I sneer. From the corner of my eye, I see the stylist watching the exchange, her eyes volleying between the three of us.
“Oh c’mon, Vin. I’m not so bad once you give me the chance.” The way his hand trails against the back of the couch I was just sitting on absolutely disgusts me.
“Pigs will fly before I give you a chance, August. Please leave. No one wants you here.”
August tsks in response, his head shaking slightly. “One day you’ll feel different. I’ll see to it.”
“Ugh. Seriously, take a hint, August,” Raina intervenes. “She’s not interested.” She opens and closes her hand a few times, putting attitude into a wave. “Bye bye.”
He snickers, and his eyes sweep over to Raina. With malice in his tone, he glowers, “That color makes your complexion a little dull, don’t you think?”
Instinctually my hand flies to her wrist, and I dig my fingernails into her skin in silent warning. Shewillbite back, and this will turn into a scene, which will turn into more ammunition for August and my brother.
August watches us for a moment longer, his eyes sliding between us, over the length of our bodies, then casually to the watch on his wrist.
Without another word, he turns on his heel and walks out of the store.
I don’t relax until he’s no longer in view, then I finally release the air in my lungs.
“God, I hate him,” Raina mumbles.
“You have no idea,” I agree, letting go of her wrist. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to leave marks.”
She shrugs, then looks down at the gown she’s still wearing.
“That dress is absolutely stunning on you. Don’t listen to a word he says.”
“As if I would.” Holding up her hand, she waves to the stylist, who hurries over to us. “I’ll take this one. Thanks.”
She saunters back into the fitting room to get undressed, and as she does, I head to the register, pulling out my black card while the cashier rings me up. “Add the lilac gown my friend tried on as well please.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Raina says, coming up from behind me.
“Don’t worry, my father’s the one paying. I agree to attend these events on behalf of them in exchange for the fabulous wardrobe they expect me to wear. I’d be happy attending in my jeans, but Mother insists on the gowns.”
Laughing, she glances at the cashier and says, “Well, by all means then, ring her up!”
“We’ll have those delivered to your home within the next two hours, Miss,” the cashier tells me, handing me the receipt. “They’ll be steamed andready for wear, pending you aren’t in need of alterations?”
“Both gowns fit perfect, thank you.”
“Very well. Expect delivery shortly.”
“Thank you,” I tell the woman, and Raina echoes the sentiment.
Looping her arm through mine, we exit the building and are met with the hustle and bustle of late-afternoon Manhattan.
“Where to?” I ask, looking left and right up the street to see which store speaks to me next.
“Well, we now need someglitter. Or at least I do. Cartier?”
Smiling, I nod and tug Raina in the direction of the store.
