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“You’re going to call her, aren’t you?” Xanthe said, staying seated while watching him knowingly.
“We’ll keep it under the radar,” he promised. He ignored thetskhe heard as he left.
He was far more disturbed by Ms. Smythe’s report when he got back to his office.
Delia Chevron didn’t know any designers named Fliss.
CHAPTER FOUR
“YOUCAN’TSTEALfrom clients, Felicity.” Her supervisor, Luz, was dark red beneath her normally light brown complexion.
“I didn’t steal,” Fliss argued weakly. “It was in the bin.”
But it had been wrong to take the invitation. She had known it was wrong when she’d taken it out of the bin. And when she’d stuck it in her handbag. She had been dead wrong to put it in her clutch and carry that wretched card to the art gallery.
She wanted to sink through the floor with humiliation and guilt that she’d ever even noticed the darned thing.
“You’ve cost me a good client.” Luz’s voice rang with anger. “You know I can’t keep you on.”
“I know,” Fliss mumbled, feeling sick.
For three days, she had thought she had gotten away with her futile attempt to advance herself. Photos of her with Saint had turned up online, but none had shown her face very well, so no one had recognized her.
Then, this morning, she’d been told to report here to Luz before starting her shift at a luxury flat in Chelsea. Fliss had known immediately that her dark deed had come to light. Her stomach had begun to churn.
“Did you really havesexwith Saint Montgomery?” Luz hissed.
“What?” That knocked Fliss back in her chair. “Why do you think that?”
“Because he’sSaint Montgomery. You went to his hotel with him, then he tried to send you earrings through Delia Chevron. You left them in his room, I presume?” Luz elevated her brows with disdain.
“What?No.” She touched her earlobe, which was naked, but she had definitely come home with the hoops she’d worn to the gala. She was deeply confused. “I don’t know anything about any earrings. That doesn’t make sense.”
“Which is what Delia said. She pieced together that someone had attended the gala with an invitation addressed to her and had her team investigate how you came by it.”
“I didn’t pretend to be her,” Fliss rushed to assert. She had only implied she was Delia’s plus-one, then had been shuffled off to the side to wait for her. She didn’t explain that Saint was the one who had actually brought her into the gallery. “He hasn’t calledyou, has he? Did you give him my number?”
Luz glared outrage at her.
“I’m not saying you should,” Fliss mumbled. Where was astral traveling when you really needed it? She would give anything not to be inhabiting her body in this profoundly mortifying moment.
“I’m really disappointed in you, Felicity. I thought you were someone I could count on. Your final pay will go into your account overnight. I cannot give you a reference, but I wish you well in future.” Luz straightened a stack of papers that didn’t need straightening, signaling this discussion was over.
“I’m genuinely sorry, Luz.” Fliss rose. She was tongue-tied, unable to find anything more to say that wasn’t full out groveling.
Her only hope was that this incident wouldn’t follow her around like a bad smell, the way those awful rumors started by her old boyfriend had.
She went home and, since her workday had barely started, pulled up her CV on her ancient laptop. She was immediately disheartened. Scrubbing toilets was her top skill these days, but without a reference she wasn’t even fit for that. The fashion design route was even further out of reach.
She couldn’t waste time on berating herself, though. There would be ample time for that later. For now, she needed to make rent.
Perhaps sheshouldgo back to school. It was months until September, though.
Fliss looked around her room with its chipped sill and saggy bed and toilet down the hall. It wasn’t much, but it had enough space for her sewing machine and table, her form and a tall, cardboard wardrobe where she stored her finished creations.
She could sell those, she supposed, but that would be counterproductive to her aspirations. Plus, experience had taught her that she would be lucky to earn back the cost of the fabric, especially when she was in a hurry to sell. She rarely got enough to cover her many hours of labor.
As for the gown, she could barely look at it.
