“Thank you so much for coming over,” I said. “I’m so lost right now. Were you busy?”
“Max was over, but I told him I had to go.”
“Oh god, I’m sorry.”
She waved a hand. “Don’t be, it’s fine. How much time do you have?”
“I don’t know, ten or fifteen minutes?”
She rolled her eyes. “Fucking hell. Okay, let’s do this. Strip.”
I took off my t-shirt and leggings while she tore through my underwear drawer, grumbling things like practical cotton and doesn’t have anything decent. She chose a strapless bra and black panties. I slipped into them while she started holding up dresses.
“No,” she said, tossing one aside. “No. Also no. No.” She threw another down and picked up a long red gown. It shimmered in the light. “Oh, this one. This might be it.”
“Red? I don’t know.”
“Are you kidding me? You can rock this. Put it on.”
She helped me into the dress and zipped it up the back. I stood in front of my full-length mirror and cringed. It was strapless and so form-fitting I felt naked. The bottom of the skirt widened just enough for a hint of a mermaid silhouette, and the slit up the leg was the only way I’d be able to walk in this thing.
I smoothed it down, running my hands from my waist to my hips.
“Don’t utter a single word.” She sounded a little breathless. “I’m never wearing it again because this is magnificent on you. But the panties have to go.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’ll have to go commando. You don’t want a line.”
“But—”
“Nope, no time.” She hiked the dress up and yanked my panties down before I could get out another word.
I fixed the dress, smoothing it down over my backside, but I felt even more naked than before. She threw a towel around my shoulders, pushed me onto the edge of the bed, and attacked my face with makeup.
Ten minutes later, I stood staring at a stranger in the mirror. The dress was… well, it was incredible. The red was deep and rich, and the fabric had something that sparkled. Nothing bold, like sequins. It was subtle, shimmering whenever I moved. She’d done my makeup flawlessly, especially for how fast she’d worked. It looked like me, just formal me. Soft eyes and bright red lips to match the dress. My hair was up—she’d complained that she needed more time to do it properly—but with the strapless dress, it worked.
“A manicure would have made the whole thing really pop, but your nails look decent at least,” she said. “Do you have shoes?”
My phone buzzed with a text from Mr. Calloway’s driver, saying he was outside. “Yeah, I think so. Can I wear black? I don’t have red ones that match.”
“Black is fine.”
I dug out a pair of black heels and stepped into them.
“Those are adorable,” Nora said.
I took a deep breath and glanced in the mirror one last time. “Okay, I have to go. Do you think I’ll fit in with everyone there?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head with a smile. “You’re not going to fit in. You’re going to blow everyone away. You’re a knockout.”
A rush of nerves made my stomach feel queasy. “This is crazy.”
She tucked my phone and the red lipstick into a little black clutch and handed it to me. “Knock ’em dead, tiger.”
“You’re the best.” I gave her a quick hug before rushing for the front door. “Love you!”
“Love you, too,” she called as I hurried out to meet the driver.
Ten minutes later, the car pulled up to the curb in front of the Four Seasons Hotel. I sent Mr. Calloway a text to say I was here. Before I could open the door myself, his driver had done it for me. I took a deep breath, eased my leg out—this dress was difficult to maneuver in—and stood.
Mr. Calloway was already waiting outside, dressed in the black tux I’d made sure had been cleaned and pressed for him. He looked up from his phone, and for the first time in the three years I’d worked for him, he looked right at me.
His eyes were blue, contrasting with his dark features. His hair was neatly slicked back, as usual, and his stubble trimmed to perfection. It ought to be. I made all his grooming appointments, timing them precisely so he always looked perfect.
He stared at me, but I hardly blamed him. I’d never seen me looking like this, so he certainly hadn’t. I decided that instead of letting the weight of intimidation crush me, I’d do what I always did when it came to Shepherd Calloway: figure out what he needed and get it done.
Squaring my shoulders, I walked across the sidewalk toward him.
“Well?”
He blinked at me, his mouth slightly open. “What?”
“What am I doing here? You made it sound like an emergency. Is the dress okay? I borrowed it from a friend.”
His eyes swept up and down, and if I’d thought I felt naked when I first tried on the dress, that feeling had nothing on this moment. My cheeks warmed and I was positive he could tell I wasn’t wearing panties. Oh god, this was the worst thing that had ever happened to me.
Actually, that wasn’t true at all. After some of the horrible dates I’d had, earning the prize for worst thing ever would take something much more extreme than going commando in front of my boss. That was actually comforting. Silver lining.
“The dress?” he asked.
What the hell was wrong with him? I’d never seen him act like this before.
“Yes, the dress. Mr. Calloway, are you drunk?”
“What? No.” His brow furrowed, and he seemed to come back to himself. He straightened his cuffs. “The dress is fine. And it’s Shepherd tonight.”
He took me gently by the elbow and led me inside. We crossed the opulent lobby side-by-side, passing people in tuxes and evening gowns.
“Okay, Shepherd,” I said, trying on the name. I’d never called him that before. “What am I doing here?”
He took me through a set of large double doors into the ballroom. “You’re my girlfriend tonight.”
I stopped dead in my tracks. “I’m sorry, what did you just say?”
His jaw hitched. Under different circumstances, that would have made me nervous. I knew that look all too well. No one questioned Shepherd Calloway. But tonight, I wasn’t having it. Not when he’d called me on a Friday night, demanded I meet him at an event with no notice, and told me to dress sexy. He owed me an explanation.
I crossed my arms and looked him in the eye.
His nostrils flared and he pulled me to the side. “Look, I realize this is out of the ordinary. I don’t have time to explain everything right now. I’m going to introduce you as my girlfriend.”
“Am I also your assistant? Or am I supposed to pretend to be someone else?”
Something in his expression changed—he softened, looking me in the eyes as we spoke. “No, you’re you. My assistant.”
“So you’re pretending to date your assistant?” This didn’t make one bit of sense.
“Can you go along with this or not?”
A waiter walked by with a tray of champagne flutes. I plucked one as he passed and downed it in a few swallows.