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Pregnant Behind the Veil

Page 30

by Emmy Grayson

Lucas’s eyes widen. “But I had no idea. Congratulations.”

“We’re keeping things quiet for now.”

Lucas places a finger to his lips. “I am the soul of discretion.”

“Thank you. My wife needs a gown for the International Children’s Charity gala in Santorini tonight.”

Lucas turns to Alessandra and beams. “Madam, I have numerous gowns that you would do justice to.”

Her smile is surprisingly shy. The longer I know her, the more I’m realizing that while my wife may exhibit a strong front, she has an introverted side. A vulnerability she rarely lets anyone see.

“Thank you.”

“No, no, thank you for giving me the opportunity to dress you for tonight’s gala.” He gestures to the open door of his boutique. “Shall we?”

The interior of Kallos Boutique is a fashion designer’s dream. Mannequins are artfully arranged about the floor, raised up on daises and draped in the latest couture gowns. Dresses are crafted of chiffon, silk, lace, many of them adorned with actual diamonds and rubies.

“Michail?”

Alessandra is standing in the middle of the boutique, her eyes round and her lips slightly parted as she takes in the splendor around her. I move closer, all too conscious of the rounded curves of her breasts, the flare of her hips barely visible beneath the fluid material of her shirt.

“This isn’t what I had in mind when I said shopping,” she murmurs under her breath.

“The International Children’s Charity is one of the world’s most renowned funds. The guest list looks more like a who’s who of Milan’s Fashion Week.”

“I understand that, but surely a simple black dress will do.”

“My dear,” Lucas interrupts with a grand flick of his wrist, “a simple black dress will not do justice for a lady such as yourself.”

Her blush deepens. “I only meant to say that—”

“Will you give us a moment, Lucas?”

Lucas winks at me. “But of course.”

He disappears into a sea of jewel-toned fabrics. Instrumental music plays overhead as chandeliers glimmer above. In an hour, his shop will be filled with curious tourists and some of the world’s top politicians, movie stars and otherwise wealthy elite.

Alessandra glances around, her gaze both trepidatious and longing. “This isn’t the kind of place that I usually shop.”

“Lucas is a friend of my mother’s.”

Now I’ve caught her attention. Alessandra’s eyes narrow as she cocks her head to one side.

“Your mom?”

“Believe it or not, Lucas used to be a teacher back in New York.”

Her startled laugh warms me. “A teacher?”

“Yes. Family and consumer science with a focus on fashion.”

Realization flares in her eyes. “You helped him start his boutiques.”

“He was a good friend to my mother when she got her first teaching job. Loyal, supportive. He had a dream. He deserved to see it come to fruition.”

Alessandra stares at me for a long moment before tearing her gaze from mine. “I see.”

She moves toward a mannequin draped in topaz silk. She glances at the price tag. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve spent more time in her company or if I just know her that well, but I can tell by the subtlest move in her throat and the slight tightening of her lips that these are not the prices she was anticipating when she said she needed a dress for the gala.