From Bridal Designer to Bride

by Kandy Shepherd

  The spacious room proudly celebrated femininity. One of her clients had called it a shrine to brides and maybe that wasn’t far off. The space was decorated in shades of white and cream, with plush carpets underfoot and silver vases filled with magnificent fresh flower arrangements strategically placed. Bolts of the finest fabrics sourced from all around the world spilled out of a large, open armoire she’d imported from France and shimmered under the light of a lavish antique crystal chandelier.

  ‘We pride ourselves on luxury and exclusivity,’ she explained. ‘The salon is set up to see one bridal party at a time—the bride, her attendants, her mother, whoever she chooses to bring with her. Appointments are timed so that brides are unlikely to bump into other brides.’

  ‘And the price reflects the level of service,’ he said. She liked the way he took her ‘girly’ business so seriously and seemed to have an innate understanding of how she operated.

  ‘And comfort,’ she said. Upholstered chairs were strategically placed around the space. Champagne was chilling in a silver ice bucket, canapés would be offered. And tissues for the tears of those brides overcome by the beauty of their gowns and their mothers overcome by the beauty of their daughters.

  All that was missing was a bride trying on a gown from the rack filled with garments in various shades of pale to see which shapes best suited her and twirling in front of the large mirrors with ornate gilt frames. A girl from a very wealthy northern suburbs family should have been doing just that right now. Only she’d cancelled at the last minute, citing ‘philosophical differences with the designer’ as her reason. Even the thought of it made Eloise grit her teeth.

  Josh’s expression was vaguely hunted, his eyes glazed as he looked around. ‘Impressive,’ he said.

  ‘I wanted to recreate the kind of elegant salon that impressed me when I worked in Paris. Getting fitted for a wedding dress should be a memorable, happy experience and a real treat.’

  ‘I’m sure it is,’ he said. ‘But—’

  ‘There’s a but?’

  He shuddered. ‘I feel totally out of place here. I’m too tall, too big, too male.’

  He was all that without a doubt. Oh, yes. And so very handsome. She couldn’t be happier that he had offered to escort her to Becca’s wedding. He was perfect. And if @lindytheblonde got wind that he was a billionaire, that would be even better.

  She laughed. ‘Men aren’t usually part of the wedding dress decision. Remember, it’s thought to be bad luck for a groom to see the bride’s dress before their wedding. Old traditions die hard. I think you’ll be more comfortable in the workroom upstairs.’

  ‘Perhaps I could go out and buy a tuxedo rather than you make—’

  She shook her head. ‘Not happening. The least I can do for you in return for accompanying me to the wedding is to provide a bespoke tuxedo. You’re used to having your clothes made bespoke, I can tell.’

  ‘I go to the best tailor in Boston.’

  ‘Besides, I couldn’t possibly have my plus-one accompany me in anything that wasn’t classy and impeccably tailored.’

  He looked at her, bemused. ‘I’m uncertain if you’re joking or not.’

  ‘Mostly not joking. I’m judged by the quality of my clothes. I guess I’ll be judged by the quality of your suit if @lindytheblonde really has the daggers out for me at the wedding. I don’t want you caught up in it.’

  Eloise led Josh up the stairs, and through another set of doors to the workroom.

  ‘This is the heart of my business,’ she said proudly. ‘Where a bride’s dreams of the perfect dress become reality.’

  This large room was a constant hub of activity. Her team of seamstresses sat at industrial sewing machines or hand-stitching garments, mostly white, some the myriad colours of bridesmaids’ dresses. They all wore gloves to protect the very expensive fabrics.

  Trolleys were hung with clipped-together bunches of brown paper pattern pieces. Dressmaker’s dummies were draped with pinned and half-finished gowns. Various samples of lace and trims and ribbons dangled from metal racks. A mood board for a large upcoming wedding where they were dressing not just the bride and her attendants but also all the female members of their extended families dominated one corner.

  Eloise breathed in the scent of freshly cut fabrics, of paper and sewing machines. She loved it all. Most nights it was a wrench to go home. She couldn’t bear it being under threat.

  She stood at the front of the room and addressed her team. ‘I’d like to introduce you all to Josh Taylor. He’s accompanying me to the Sanderson wedding and we need to get him into a tux, pronto. We’ll need to pull out all the stops.’

  She was surprised at the wave of giggles that rippled through the room. Her close friend and second in command, Vinh Tran, came over to her, unable to suppress an enormous smile. ‘Hi, Josh; we were wondering when Eloise was going to introduce you to us,’ she said, for the room’s benefit.

  ‘What?’ The word exploded from Eloise.

  She looked anxiously up at Josh. Surely he wouldn’t think she’d boasted to her friends and colleagues about their date, blown it up to something so much more than it was? He shifted from one foot to the other, looking as uncomfortable as she was feeling.

  She’d told Vinh she was going on her first date in for ever with a visiting American when they’d been working on the pink tea dress she’d worn that night, but that was as far as it had gone.

  ‘You mean you haven’t seen it?’ said Vinh.

  ‘Seen what? I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  Vinh brought over her tablet and, without a word, enlarged the images on screen to show her.

  Eloise’s hand shot to her mouth to stifle her gasp. There she was in close-up, in her red spotted skirt, leaning across the table in the nearby café and kissing Josh. It had only been a brief kiss, but the camera gave it so much more significance. There was another of them talking, their heads so close they were almost touching, smiling into each other’s eyes. The images were close, intimate, and she was glowing. They looked so good together.

  ‘Where did these come from?’

  ‘They were posted on one of the local gossip sites.’ Vinh read out the caption. ‘“New man for celebrity frock queen?”’ I must say you look gorgeous. And...er...so do you, Josh.’

  Vinh, a petite Vietnamese Australian, had been friends with Eloise since the first days of their fashion design degree. Eloise had dropped out soon after her internship in Paris ended, as she figured she’d learned enough about the nuts and bolts of design and patternmaking and had keenly observed how the French bridal couture house had operated. Vinh had completed her degree and, while she was an excellent designer, she was also interested in the business side of running a label. But Vinh hadn’t wanted to start her own. Each of the friends had not had good experiences working for established fashion companies.

  Eloise had set up by herself on a small scale, working from an industrial site in Alexandria. Some of those girls for whom she’d made prom dresses had asked if she could work her magic on their wedding dresses. Word-of-mouth recommendations and exposure on social media had given her the bookings and the confidence to expand into Double Bay, or Double Pay as it was colloquially known. Two years ago she’d asked Vinh to join her in the business. It had proved to be an excellent decision.

  Now Vinh was obviously taken with Josh and kept giving Eloise meaningful sideways glances of approval. Dear heaven, please don’t let Josh notice, Eloise prayed.

  Eloise frowned. ‘But who—?’

  ‘The waitress?’ Josh said.

  ‘Mara? Maybe.’

  ‘A lot of people walk past there—it could have been anyone with a camera phone who recognised you,’ said Vinh.

  Josh turned to Eloise. ‘Isn’t this good publicity for you? It takes the sting out of the attack from the influencer.’ He paused. ‘And I agr
ee, you look beautiful.’

  A soft, collective sigh sounded through the room. Eloise felt the sudden sting of tears and blinked down hard on them. She was as susceptible to romance as anyone else—more so perhaps, given her profession—it was just she fought so hard against it for herself. She couldn’t let herself get to like Josh too much. He’d soon be winging his way back home. There would be no chance to see if the attraction between them could lead to anything deeper.

  ‘In fact, it’s very romantic,’ said Vinh. ‘And if you’re going to that big wedding together on the weekend, that’s all the better.’

  Vinh and the rest of the team were aware of her anguish over the influencer’s damaging posts. And the fact if the business slid downhill their jobs could be at risk.

  Eloise looked at the photo again. She’d like a copy for herself but didn’t dare admit it. Later, she’d take a screen shot. ‘You’re both right,’ she said.

  ‘Let’s hope it goes viral, then,’ said Vinh. She turned to Eloise. ‘Before I forget, your mum popped in to pick up Daisy. She said she was double parked and couldn’t wait for you.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Eloise, disappointed she wouldn’t see her little foster dog until after the weekend. People sometimes asked her how she liked living alone. She would reply she was never alone, as she had a series of canine companions. When it came to love, dogs were so much more reliable than humans.

  Josh seemed genuinely disappointed too. ‘I’m sorry I won’t see Daisy.’

  Vinh then turned to Josh. ‘We need to take your measurements for that rush order tux.’

  Eloise caught Josh’s eye. For a moment she was tempted to take the tailor’s tape measure and do it herself, as she’d suggested at the café. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. There was a lot of body measuring involved for a bespoke suit so it would fit and drape perfectly. She just couldn’t. It would be somehow too...intimate. She was too aware of him, of the feelings aroused by that kiss, to trust herself.

  ‘Yes,’ she said to Vinh. ‘Can you please handle him...er... I mean, handle that? You know what I mean.’ Her friend laughed. Josh looked discomfited in a way she found very appealing.

  ‘I think the Italian wool and silk fabric in midnight-blue,’ she said. ‘What do you think, Josh?’

  He shrugged. ‘I’ll put myself in your expert hands.’ Eloise blushed high on her cheekbones and hoped he didn’t notice. She’d like that very much.

  * * *

  During the process of being measured for his tux, Josh became aware of how liked and admired Eloise was by her staff. How hard she worked. What a fair manager she was. How very unfair it was that the spiteful actions of a disgruntled Bridezilla should threaten the business she loved so passionately.

  If he were Eloise, he would be immediately seeking a way to ruin that influencer. He was vengeful and didn’t mind admitting it. Long after his opponent had forgotten about his attack on Josh or one of his enterprises—or thought they’d got away with it—he would strike. The smiling assassin, one of his business associates had labelled him. And they hadn’t meant it as a compliment.

  He hadn’t always been that hard, vengeful person. As a kid, he’d been sunny, good-natured, secure in his family and status. All that had changed the day he’d been evicted from his home and the life he’d thought was his by birth. Then he’d had to use his smarts and any weapon available to him to forge ahead. He treated people with honesty, and if he didn’t get it in return then they would get their comeuppance. He knew he would never get the revenge he wanted against the man who had raised him—his ex-father’s fortune was too blue-chip, too established—but he could certainly chip away at the edges of it. And, oh, how he would gloat to see him up before the bankruptcy court.

  He was glad he was able to help Eloise by accompanying her to the wedding as her plus-one. How wise an action that was for him, he hadn’t paused to think. Or how he would explain it to Tori. Eloise needed help, and on impulse he’d come to the rescue. Now he realised there was yet another way he could help her get revenge on her opponent.

  He waited until he’d been measured, every bit as skilfully and thoroughly as by his gentleman’s tailor in Boston, and been asked to return later in the afternoon for his first fitting. There would be two more the next morning.

  Eloise escorted him downstairs. She paused at the entrance to the citadel of girliness. ‘We’ll see you in two hours. I’ve got half the team working on your tux.’ She looked up at him, her blue eyes warm and sincere, fringed with those outrageously fake black lashes that were fun and glamorous on her but he’d think over-the-top on anyone else. ‘Thank you again, Josh. The paparazzi actually played right into our hands. Hopefully there’ll be some buzz ahead of us by the time we go to the wedding together on Saturday.’

  He lowered his voice to be heard only by her. ‘I’ve thought of a way to get even more buzz and to knock the wind right out of your detractor’s sails.’

  Her brow pleated into a frown. ‘And that would be?’

  ‘What if I pretended to be your fiancé for the weekend?’

  Her eyes widened. ‘You...you’d be my fake fiancé?’

  ‘In terms of business strategy, it’s an excellent idea. If you turn up to the wedding with a fiancé on your arm, it negates everything the influencer says about your attitude to marriage.’

  ‘That’s true.’ She paused. ‘It’s drastic though, isn’t it? I’d have to give the idea some thought.’

  He had a sudden inspiration. ‘It would help me out too. Lately I’ve been put on a number of ludicrous “most eligible bachelors” lists and that really bugs me. Gossip of an engagement will put those lists immediately out of date.’

  ‘So it could work for both of us,’ she said slowly.

  ‘It could,’ he said.

  She looked up at him. ‘Okay. Let’s do it.’ Although her words were bold, the accompanying smile was a tad shaky.

  ‘Then, after the wedding, you can take your real revenge.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ she said.

  ‘This is how I would handle it if she were my opponent. You will already have weakened her by showing she was wrong about you not wanting to marry. Next, I would get my business analysts to go through her site looking for any inconsistencies and weaknesses in her enterprises. Presumably, she gets her income from advertisers who pay her for her endorsements of their products. I would look for even the slightest instance where she might have crossed the line that I could use against her. Then I would use my muscle to ensure the advertisers did not see her as being the best spokesperson or brand for their products any longer. Ultimately I would bring her down. As she intended to bring you down.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘That’s really ruthless. And not very ethical.’

  He shrugged. ‘That’s how the world works.’ He’d learned from the best when it came to stone-hearted ruthlessness: his ex-father.

  Eloise stayed silent for a long moment and he could see by the expressions flashing across her face that she was reassessing her opinion of him. And it was definitely downward. For the best, perhaps. He didn’t want her building any expectations of him.

  Finally she spoke. ‘I don’t know that I would want to go that far, regardless of what you might do in the same situation. However, the fake fiancé idea is a good one, if we can carry it off.’

  ‘You’ll have to guide me there. I know nothing about being engaged.’

  ‘I would have to have a doting fiancé on my arm. What I mean is, we’ll have to make it look believable. You know, that we...er...were actually in love with each other.’

  ‘That’s a point,’ he said. ‘We might get our first chance now. Don’t turn around, but your friend Vinh is peeking around the door upstairs.’

  Eloise smiled. ‘Is she, now? Let’s start how we mean to continue. Give her something to take back to the workroom, and get the gossip start
ed, shall we?’ She wound her arms around his neck and kissed him, her mouth sweet and warm under his.

  Almost immediately Josh forgot that the kiss was staged as he pulled her close and kissed her back.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  BY EARLY FRIDAY afternoon Josh’s tuxedo was fitted and finished, the trouser hems breaking perfectly on the new dress shoes he’d bought the day before at a Double Bay boutique. The jacket had a whimsical blue-and-white-spotted silk lining, which had been a surprise to him.

  ‘If I’d known you a little better I could have fitted the design to your interests, even had the lining custom-printed if there’d been time,’ Eloise murmured so no one else could hear. ‘After all, tuxedos can be a tad on the stuffy side for a young guy.’

  He stood in his new tux at the front of the workroom for a final check. Eloise and her delightful friend Vinh then circled him, while he stood there captive in his new suit. The two women snipped loose threads, tucked, pulled, and prodded the fabric into place, laughing as they did so until it dawned on him they were making a game of it. Finally, laughing himself, he told them to cease and desist. Eloise’s touch, no matter how light and playful, was altogether too distracting. Again he wondered what he might have unwittingly got himself into.

  She looked sexy as hell in citrus-yellow hip-hugging retro-style cut-off trousers and a short swing top that gave a tantalising hint of the creamy skin of her waist when she turned. High heels gave her a delightful wiggle when she walked. She wore her clothes like a theatrical costume, he realised. Did she hide her real self behind the drama of vintage style? Or was the dressing up just part of her creative nature? It was no matter. It was fun. She was fun. He couldn’t remember when he’d last felt more relaxed.