Page 9 of Cruel Dynasty

“Of course, I’ll bring some gowns into the room and we can get started when you’re ready.” She bustled off just as I felt a familiar blackness creeping along my brain.

“No, no, no,” I murmured, looking around wildly for Giles. I lurched forward when I spotted him near the window. He was so absorbed with something on his mobile, he didn’t see me.

Each step toward him became harder, the dark edge of panic pulling against me and trying to drag me down. I was struggling to breathe when he finally looked up, realized what was going on, and caught me mid-collapse.

“What on earth..?” He gripped my elbows, supporting my weight and I blinked rapidly, trying to keep myself from passing out. “You need to sit down.”

Giles led me to a chair, casting a furtive look over his shoulder, to see if anyone had noticed the incident. Iris had paused in the adjoining showroom to look at dresses for herself until we called her in to start the fitting. Christina had been occupied. Thankfully, no one but Giles seemed to have witnessed the spell.

“I knew this would happen,” he announced. Standing, he swiped his glasses from his face and wiped them down, his expression shifting from surprise to concern. “I told you that you needed to eat something this morning.”

“It was just a panic attack, not low blood sugar,” I grumbled, feeling better now that I was off my feet. I relaxed into the comfortable, oversized chair.

His head tilted, studying me like an owl. “Has this happened before?”

“Yes, sometimes it happened before,” I admitted. There’d never been enough money in my life before. I’d been a shitty waitress, and I had no family to rely on to help me. I was well-acquainted with panic. Anxiety was my oldest friend.

“And recently?” he pressed.

“A couple of times.” A day. I left that part out. “Don’t worry. I have it under control.”

“I can see that,” he said dryly. “I’ll make you a doctor’s appointment.”

“No,” I blurted out, dropping my voice quickly. “Won’t the doctor know that I’m not...I mean, we probably have different blood types or something, at least!”

“Our personal physician is very discreet. I’m certain Tod would want you to speak with him, and I can assure you that anything you tell him will be kept private.”

“Thanks, but it’s unnecessary. I think you’re right, actually. It was probably champagne on an empty stomach. I’ll be fine.”

“I think—” Before he could badger me further, Iris fluttered into the room. She spotted us and the smile fell from her face.

“What’s wrong?” she cried, rushing toward me.

“Champagne on an empty stomach,” I lied again. Next to me, Giles glowered but he didn’t say anything. Somehow I doubted this conversation was over.

“Oh darling, should we reschedule? This heat probably isn’t helping if you’re not feeling well.” Iris bit her lower-lip. It was painted the exact shade of plum of the toes showing in a pair of leather slides. Her white, linen shirt dress draped elegantly over her slender figure. It was a far more casual look than she normally wore, but London was unusually warm for mid-September.

This was the out I’d been looking for, practically served to me on a silver platter. All I had to do was say yes and I’d buy myself more time. But how much? A few days? Weeks? Until Kerrigan arrived and reclaimed her life, I was her stand-in, even when it came to moments like this. “Maybe just some water?”

“I’ll get it,” Iris said, adding, “and I’ll check to see if they have air conditioning. I can’t wait for autumn to get her ass here already.”

Air conditioning was a long shot, but given the price tag on that dress, maybe we would luck out.

As soon as she was out of earshot, I turned a wild look on Giles. “I can’t do this.”

“What?” he said.

“This.” I pointed around us. “I can’t pick out a wedding dress.”

“You’ll be fine,” he said, his tone taking on an effect I liked to think of as soothing Giles. “I’ll guide you.”

But he couldn’t soothe me now. “You don’t understand. I can’t pick out her wedding dress.”

He stilled as though he hadn’t expected this. When he finally spoke, his voice was strained. “Does it bother you to try them on?”

“It’s not my place to pick out another woman’s wedding dress. What if she hates it?” I hissed. But that was far from the real reason I didn’t want to do it. Not only did it feel wrong, but there was something worse than that.

I hated the thought of picking out a dress for her to wear. I hated the idea of trying on a perfect gown, of hearing how beautiful I looked, of picturing Spencer’s face when he finally saw the dress I’d chosen. All because that moment belonged to her. It wasn’t my place to choose just like it wasn’t my place to get attached to Kerrigan or her world. Picking out a dress for her to wear as she finalized her happy ending didn’t feel like a burden. It felt like a punishment.