Page 37 of Passion and Privilege

“I’m not spending his money,” I protested.

Amber grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the shop toward her car. “Timothy is a wealthy, powerful man, Catherine. A man who clearly has a thing for you. He gave you his card, and if you don’t use it, you’ll hurt his feelings. It’s not like you are going to make him go broke by spending a few hundred dollars.”

“I can’t let him spend that kind of money on me! It’s so unprofessional. He’s my boss. There are all kinds of ethical violations.”

“Catherine, you’re a grown woman who can handle these things tactfully. Besides, he isn’t your boss in the way you think. I mean yes, he is technically your employer but both of you are adults and it’s not like you’re his assistant or intern. You’re doing a job. When you’re done with the job, he’s no longer your boss.”

I frowned, not liking the direction this conversation was veering toward. “What are you implying?”

Amber shrugged nonchalantly. “Nothing much. Just that the lines get blurry sometimes, especially when two people share obvious chemistry. You can’t deny there’s something between you two.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stammered, my cheeks flushing as I recalled the occasional lingering gazes and the way my heart kicked up a beat whenever I was around him.

“Of course you don’t.” Amber chuckled, her eyes full of mischief. “But no worries. We’re going to give you a full overhaul. That man is not going to know what hit him when he sees you tomorrow.”

Amber began to ramble on about salons and boutiques we had to get to. Despite my protests, she seemed to have her heart set on me accepting Timothy’s extravagant gift. She pulled strings, using her contacts to get me an appointment at an upscale salon. I would never be able to afford such a place, but we walked in and she slapped down the black card like she had done it a million times.

Our next stop was a high-end boutique Amber swore by. She insisted that if I wanted a revenge dress, this was the place to find it. As we got out of her car, I hesitated. The shop window displayed dresses that looked utterly splendid but also undoubtedly expensive.

“Just remember,” Amber said as she pushed open the doors of the boutique. “Today is about indulgence. And also revenge.”

A fashionable woman in her mid-forties, dressed in an elegant black dress that screamed haute couture, greeted us. “Amber, darling. What will it be today?” She gave me a onceover and something in her gaze hardened.

I immediately felt self-conscious. She clearly knew I wasn’t the dress type.

“We’re looking for a dress for my friend here,” Amber said breezily, waving off the woman’s judgmental gaze. “A dress that will make a man regret ever letting her out of his sight.”

The woman’s gaze softened and a slow, knowing smile spread across her face. “Ah, I see,” she said, her voice dripping with intrigue. “Revenge dresses. We do excel in that department.”

“Show us your best,” Amber insisted, steering me toward a mirrored platform in the middle of the boutique. “There is no budget.”

“Amber!” I hissed.

She waved off my concerns. For what felt like hours, I was in and out of beautiful gowns and cocktail dresses that cost more than my rent. Each one made me feel like a princess, yet none seemed to capture the essence of revenge Amber so desperately wanted for me. That is, until the boutique lady, whose name I had learned was Marianne, brought out a dress that made both Amber and I gasp. It was a knockout, a long, sleek black number with a daring plunging neckline and form-fitting silhouette that caught the light in an enticing way. It was classy yet suggestive, a perfect blend of sophistication and allure.

“I think we’ve found the one,” Marianne declared, her eyes sparkling with approval.

I panicked at the thought of putting it on. It was so not me. But my reservations were ignored.

Hours later, I finally made my way upstairs to my apartment carrying several bags. The day had been a whirlwind of appointments and transformations. Fresh highlights in my blonde hair made it look bright and shiny. My nails were done, something I never did given my line of work. I kept them short to avoid getting in the way. Hanging over my arm was a dress I would have never imagined I’d wear. The cost alone made me feel dizzy.

I approached my door and saw a piece of paper taped to it. “Oh no.”

I knew I had paid my rent, but with the way rents were rising, the landlord might evict all of us so he could do a few updates and charge double. Dread filled my stomach as I pulled it down to read it. Apparently, there was a mold issue that needed to be addressed, and I had the weekend to vacate the premises. The weight of this additional challenge crashed down upon me, my head spinning as I attempted to process it all.

“One problem at a time,” I muttered to myself.

First, I had to get through the stupid wedding. Then I would worry about where I was going to live for a week or two or three. I knew how these projects worked out. They would pull some sheet rock and discover it was a bigger issue. But later. That was out of my control. I needed to get some sleep and prepare myself for tomorrow.

Chapter Seventeen

Catherine

I GAZED AT MY REFLECTION in the mirror and hardly recognized myself. This is not the Catherine I am accustomed to seeing.

The dress hugged my figure perfectly, accentuating my curves in a way I never thought possible. My hair was loose and hanging around my shoulders. Amber had come over to do my makeup. It had been so long since I got dolled up and ready for a special occasion. The last time I wore makeup was the night I discovered Scott’s affair, a painful memory that I’d pushed to the back of my mind.

I blinked at my reflection, forcing myself to come back to the present. Amber had insisted on false lashes, and although they felt foreign, they did look good. My lips were painted a deep shade of red, giving me a sultrier look than I thought I could pull off.