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“Turn?”
“All the way around. Slowly.”
“This is a lot of production for one dress.”
“Turn, Lilah.”
Blushing, I turn. If mirrors are tough for me, how am I supposed to feel under the scrutiny of a six-foot-four billionaire mob boss?
When I come back around to the front, he shakes his head once. “No.”
“You didn’t even—”
“No,” he says again. “Take it off.”
Ekaterina huffs through her nose. “Which part is wrong?”
“All of it.” He gestures at me with two fingers, from my collarbone down. “It starts at her chin and ends at her shins and it never touches her once. She could be anybody in there.”
The back of my neck goes hot. “It’s a nice dress.”
“On the hanger, yes. On you? It’s not right.” He drops his hand. “Next.”
I slink back inside the curtain, strip out of the navy ensemble, and move on to the next.
The next one is dark green, with a wrap front and a tie at the side. I actually like the color. But it’s got a lot of give at the hips, whole yards of it, like somebody built a tent and then tried to repurpose it into something else.
I come out. This time, I turn without being told.
“Better neckline,” Kane says.
“Thank you.”
“And then somebody hung a curtain over your hips.”
Ekaterina takes hold of the fabric at my left hip and pulls it back so it lies flat against me. Even I can see the difference in the mirror across the room. Then she lets go and it puffs out again.
“You see,” she says.
Kane sits forward. “It’s designed by a coward. Someone looked at a woman shaped like her and decided the answer was to build a room around her and let her hide inside it. Take it off.”
I frown. “You know, most people just say, ‘Not my favorite.’“
He just points at the curtain. “Next, Lilah.”
The third one takes longer. It’s black and structured, with a sheer panel across the middle that I can feel gripping me like a hand. As the zipper goes up, I have to suck in and get myself as tall as possible to make it work.
I look at myself in the little mirror. Not half-bad, actually. My waist is narrower. My stomach looks flatter. Comfortable is the wrong word for it, but so is bad.
“Okay,” I announce through the curtain. “I think this one’s good.”
“Come out.”
I emerge—and instantly, Kane’s face curdles.
“Take it off.”
“Are you kidding?” I look down at myself. “This one’s the best one. This one actually… It holds everything in.”
