Enfold (Thornhill Trilogy Book 3)

by J. J. Sorel

  A young man approached me, and with a heavily accented, feminine voice, exclaimed, “Oh… but this little dress is beautiful.”

  Another shop assistant joined in with his crooning approval of my Mondrian-inspired mini.

  “Thanks. It belonged to my mother,” I said.

  “Oh, it’s an original. I love it.” He touched the fabric. “I’m crazy for the sixties.”

  “Thanks. I’m rather fond of it myself. My mother bought it on Carnaby Street,” I said.

  “In London?” His eyes lit up as he kissed his fingers. I could have told him I was about to give him a lump of gold, such was his pleasure. “Signorina, it really suits you.”

  “Thanks. Excuse me for a minute.” I smiled and headed over to Tabitha, who was holding up a pair of jeans that were ripped and worn out.

  “You’re quite a hit in this little town with that dress of yours,” said Tabitha.

  “Yeah, it’s a pleasant departure from being poked fun at,” I said.

  “But you persist anyway,” said Tabitha.

  “Well, why shouldn’t I?”

  “True. You’re one of a kind, Clarissa Moone. So what do you think?” She held up two pairs of jeans, both equally worn.

  “They’re ripped and pretentious.”

  “It’s called distressed, I believe,” she said, laughing at my sardonic scowl.

  I snorted.

  She studied the price tag and scrunched her face. “The price tag’s distressing. That’s for sure.”

  I giggled at her dry tone. “If you want them, Tabs, I’ll buy them. Aidan told me to go hard.”

  A cheeky glint coated her eyes. “Did he just?”

  “Oh, Tabitha, you’ve got a one-track mind.”

  “Well, when you use the word hard and Aidan in one sentence, what do you expect?”

  “True.” I smiled and felt a warm glow in my cheeks, recalling Aidan going deliciously hard on me just that morning. “Anyway, if you want them, they’re yours.”

  She hugged me and squealed with delight.

  The same sales assistant that had spoken to me sashayed over. “Can I help?”

  Tabitha held up two pairs of jeans. “Can I try these on?”

  “But of course.” He held his chin. “Mm… you may need one size smaller.”

  “Oh? You think? I’m normally this size,” she said.

  “These are Italian sizes,” he replied, handing her two pairs of jeans. “Depends if you want them to fit you very well.” He raised a brow. And we giggled. He looked as if he plucked his eyebrows, and in a loose silk polka-dot shirt and super tight red pants, he embodied the look-at-me style characteristic of that brand.

  “Go and try them on. I’m just going over there to the dresses,” I said.

  “I’m Giancarlo,” he said, holding out his soft, well-manicured hand.

  I shook it. “I’m Clarissa.”

  He leaned in close. “Clarissa, can I ask you a favor?”

  “Sure,” I said.

  “Can I take a photo of you for our board?”

  That was so unexpected, my mouth opened with a stretched “Oh?”

  He smiled at my shocked expression. “We do that from time to time with some of our customers. The more expressively dressed ones. And this little dress is one I want to capture.”

  “Why not?” I touched my braids and swept a stray strand away from my face.

  “Just as you are, Clarissa. Sei una donna bellissima.”

  “Thank you,” I said. The little I knew of Italian suggested that he was complimenting me.

  “Massimo, viene qui.” He gesticulated to his colleague, who was just as feminine, with a sway to his hips.

  “Un foto, por favore,” he said.

  The young man took out his phone and framed it before us. Giancarlo put his arm around me, and I smiled.

  “Perfetto,” Massimo sang.

  He studied the shots and kissed his fingers. The scene was like something out of an Italian movie. It seemed surreal as the two effusive Italians spoke over each other.

  “Ah…que bella,” he said. He showed me the shots. They were fun, to be sure.

  “Do you want me to send to you?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “No, it’s okay.”

  “Facebook?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t really use it,” I said.

  His head pushed back. “A beautiful girl like you. So stylish and about town, I am surprised.” His eyes went to my finger and noticed my gleaming diamond. “Oh, a rich fiancée?”

  I nodded and smiled. “Can you show me some dresses now, if that’s okay?”

  “Ma si, signorina, subito.” He crooked his finger and wiggled along. “Viene.”

  Tabitha called out. I looked at him. “I need to go to my friend.”

  He tagged along like a sweet little puppy. Although he’d jumped right into our private space, I liked him. He had a sweet smile, and he did seem genuinely amiable, and not in a sickly need-to-make-a-sale way.

  Tabitha stepped out in her ripped jeans. They fitted her like a glove.

  “They look fantastic, Tabs.”

  Giancarlo nodded in agreement. “Very nice.”

  She turned to study her bottom. “They don’t make my butt look too big?”

  “No way, Tabi. If anything, they’re very flattering. And the little rips below the butt are very sexy.”

  “Aren’t they?” Her big green eyes shone. “I love them. And they’re so damn comfortable.”

  “They don’t look it. They’re stuck to your skin,” I said.

  “They’re stretch,” said Giancarlo. “What did I tell you? I bet they’re the ones I suggested to you?”

  She nodded. “They’re really pricey, Clary.”

  “Nonsense. Let’s take them. I’m just going to check the dresses. If there’s anything else you want, grab it.”

  Tabitha hugged me. “You’re the best.”

  When I saw the rack of silk florals, I let out a long sigh.

  Giancarlo smiled. “Beautiful, yes. They’ve just come in. The colors are magical.”

  I stroked one of the silk dresses, which had pink-and-purple watercolor flowers against a creamy background. “This one, I love.”

  His eyes narrowed as he studied my body before taking one off the rack. “This is your size, I believe. Would you like to try it?” He pointed to the dressing room.

  I stood before the mirror. It fitted me as if it had been cut for my body. The bodice was low enough to show a sexy décolletage, my breasts pouting just enough to be feminine but not in a sleazy way. If anything, the crossover design supported and lifted my breasts. It was helped by ruching under the bust and around the waist, followed by a straight-lined skirt. The dress was delightfully 1950s. And the colors were truly magical—pinks that bled into burgundy, mauve, and purple against a creamy satin background left me purring like a kitten.

  Tabitha said, “Oh my God, Clary, that is so gorgeous.”

  I was all smiles. It was how I felt exactly.

  Giancarlo raced over and slapped his cheek. “Bellisima. You look like Loren or one of those beautiful, glamorous actresses from classic Hollywood with that figure. Signorina… mama mia.”

  Both Tabitha and I looked at each other and smiled at his theatrics.

  “I agree,” said someone with a deep male voice behind me.

  I turned, and an older man in a three-piece suit stood there. He was distinguished, with flecks of gray in his dark hair. He ate me alive with his sparkling blue eyes. His confident lingering stare seemed to say, “I’d like to make love to you slowly and deeply.”

  When Tabitha knocked me in the ribs, I admonished her with a sharp side-glance.

  “That dress had you in mind when it was designed,” he said.

  “Thank you,” I said. I smiled shyly. He was making my face heat up. His eyes had that bedroom glow about them, for certain.

  “Are you from around here?” he asked.

  “No. I’m from LA. Just visiting,
” I said.

  “How about a drink?” he asked. Mm… he was indeed confident.

  I shook my head. “I can’t, really. I’m here with my fiancée.”

  He stared down at my finger. “Oh, I see. Nice rock. He’s one hell of a lucky guy.”

  “Daddy, can I have this?” asked a teenage girl holding up a jacket. “Anything you like, darling.” He returned his focus to me. “It’s her

  birthday.”

  I nodded. I was feeling cold, and my nipples were showing. He noticed, of course. His eyes darkened, and I crossed my arms.

  He smiled. “I hope you enjoy your stay here. It’s a spectacular dress for an equally spectacular woman.” He cast me another lingering gaze and handed me his card. “Here, just in case you want to see a few sights.” His lips curved up suggestively before he left to join his daughter.

  “Whoa. What was that about?” asked Tabitha, following me back into the dressing room. “One could have cut the air with a knife. The sexual tension was electric. Was he sex on legs, or what?”

  I laughed. “You and older men.”

  “But, come on, Clary, you did like him a little. I saw your little goose bumps. His eyes fucked you, well and truly.”

  “Tabs, need I remind you that I’m madly in love with Aidan?”

  “But you’re still allowed to look. And he wore that suit oh so well.”

  “I think I need to buy this dress.”

  “You so do, sister. It’s a knockout.” Tabitha stared at the price and whistled. “Shit. That’s one big price tag.”

  It read ten thousand dollars. “Hmm…isn’t it? Do you think it’s too extravagant? I mean, I do love it.”

  “You must. And Aidan did tell you to go hard,” she said, waggling her eyebrows.

  I giggled. We made our way to the register and passed a rack of T-shirts with DG on them.

  Tabitha stopped to stare at them.

  “Get one if you like. It would look cute with the jeans,” I said.

  Tabitha selected one with a diamante insignia. “How’s this?”

  I nodded. I was not a T-shirt girl—only when lounging around privately. But they did suit Tabitha, and turquoise was a pretty color.

  After paying, we said our goodbyes. It was with great fanfare, double kisses on cheeks and all. As we were about to step onto the pavement, Giancarlo ran up to us and handed me a few passes. “If you’re looking to go out clubbing, this is my friend’s club. It’s all the rage. Here’s a few passes for you.”

  I took them. “Thanks, that’s so kind of you.”

  He smiled and we left.

  “Clubbing. Yay! Clary, let’s. Do you think it’s a gay club?” Tabitha asked, skipping along.

  I shrugged. “I’ll see what Aidan wants to do first. I’m not sure if I’m in the mood for techno music. It’s not my thing.”

  “You’re so last century, Clary.” She linked her arm with mine, and we sprang along the pavement, weaving in and out of the crowd.

  When we arrived at Tiffany’s, I stopped. “I must go in there, Tabs.”

  I wanted to buy Aidan a wedding ring and have it engraved. I stood at the counter. The sales assistant’s eyes opened wide when noticing my diamond ring. It had become a predictable reaction from all of those who saw it.

  “I’d like to see your male wedding bands.”

  “Yes, madam. Do you know his size?”

  I bit my bottom lip. “No. I suppose that’s silly of me. But can I have a look and see what you have that’s a little different?”

  “Different? By that, you mean not plain like the traditional band. Stones?”

  “Yeah, maybe.” I thought about this for a moment. “Have you got anything with sapphires?” Aidan’s sparkling blue eyes entered my mind.

  He went off, then brought back some rings with large sapphires. They were all ostentatious, and I didn’t think Aidan would go for them.

  My eyes landed on one with a sapphire amongst elaborate Celtic scroll. I imagined it sitting regally on Aidan’s large hand.

  “That’s very nice,” said Tabitha. “And it’s masculine. It’s a yummy color.”

  The old jeweler nodded. “Yes, it’s a quality sapphire. One of the best cuts available set against a platinum band. Top range,” he said, looking at me.

  “I want it,” I said. “We can always adjust it if need be.”

  “Of course, madam. However, it’s not a traditional band.”

  “True. Can you show me some bands, as well? Are there any that are engraved with scrolls?”

  He shuffled off. He was so old that I imagined he’d been there for half a century.

  When he returned, Tabitha, who had obviously had the same thought, asked, “Were you here in the sixties? Did you meet Holly Golightly?”

  “Tabs, don’t ask the poor man silly questions.”

  His baggy, spectacled eyes peered up at me. “Dear girl, if I had a dollar for each customer that asked me that question, I’d be a rich man. We have tours of women who come in and want to get rings engraved, only to never pick them up.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “I’m a Breakfast At Tiffany’s fan too. But I’ll probably want to pick up this ring once it’s engraved.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “That, madam, I can understand.” He went off and returned with a case of engraved platinum wedding bands.

  I noticed one with swirling patterns and was immediately taken with it. “I love that one.”

  “Yes, its hand engraved, a beautiful piece.”

  “What do you think, Tabi?”

  She nodded. “Hmm… it’s different and very ornate.”

  “It’s a classical piece. For a man who likes beautiful things,” he said, casting me a sweet smile.

  “He does have a taste for classic designs,” I said, holding it up. I loved it madly and only hoped that Aidan would. “I’ll take both. Can I have them engraved and ready for the day after tomorrow? We’ll be leaving then.”

  The jeweler’s face shone with enthusiasm. ‘Of course.” He handed me a pad and pen. “Please write down what you wish engraved.”

  I looked at Tabitha. “What should I write?”

  She shrugged.

  I scribbled, “Aidan, my heart, soul, and body are eternally yours, love Clarissa.”

  Tabitha nodded. “That should do it.”

  “Is this too long?”

  “No, we will make the heart a symbol if that works for you, and the love can also be a heart.”

  “Yes, perfect. Thank you so much.” As I pulled out my credit card, I noticed a pair of ruby pendant earrings. “Can I have a look at those?” He dangled the pretty pieces in front of me. “They’re gorgeous,” I purred.

  “They’re so you, Clary.”

  “I’ll take those as well. Thank you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  We returned carrying a handful of bags filled with goodies. I was exhausted, and when the elevator arrived at the apartment, I fell into the Chesterfield armchair, and Tabitha sank onto a velvet sofa.

  Aidan was still in his office because I could hear voices murmuring.

  The voices grew louder, then the door opened. Out stepped Aidan, and when he saw me his face brightened. “You look like you’ve had a good workout.”

  “That I have, so has the credit card.” My eyes brushed over his colleague. A tall, dark man appearing sharp in a well-tailored three-piece suit, which seemed to be the Fifth Avenue look. I personally preferred Aidan’s loose linen shirt and chinos. Still, I sensed Tabitha’s frame growing out of her earlier tired slouch.

  “This is my fiancée, Clarissa, and her friend, Tabitha,” said Aidan, turning to me. “This is Brad, my attorney.”

  Brad nodded in my direction. “Pleased to meet you. I’ve heard much about you.” His attention then moved to Tabitha, and as he uttered the “pleased to meet you,” his eyes remained on her.

  “I thought we might catch up with Brad for dinner tonight. How’s Italian sound?”

  Tab
itha looked at me. “Clarissa had spaghetti for lunch.”

  “I don’t mind. I can eat Italian again,” I said.

  Aidan looked at me. “We can go somewhere else if you like.”

  “No. Honestly, I love pasta. You know that.”

  “I sure do. And at Carbone’s, it’s something else. Homemade pasta that melts in the mouth.”

  Brad nodded in agreement.

  I smiled. “Then it’s settled. We’ll go there.”

  When we were alone in our room, I said, “Aidan, I hope you can forgive Tabitha and her flirty ways.”

  “To each their own, Clarissa. I respect she’s your best buddy. For that only, and not because I enjoy her company. Although I do like seeing you both together, being all silly and girlish. I find that entertaining.”

  “You do?”

  He undid my hair braid and ran his fingers through it to untangle it. “I do. Just as I love seeing your lush mane go all crinkly, and these sexy legs in that e crazy little dress.” He ran his hands up my thighs, and I melted.

  My lips curled into a smile. It was hard to have a serious conversation around Aidan looking delectable in a shirt that was unbuttoned enough to show me the fine sprinkling of hair over his curvaceous muscly chest. My addicted fingers could do little but sneak in. His full, sculptured, kissable lips curved up at one side, and his eyes lowered seductively.

  But I couldn’t get Tabitha and her man-eating ways out of my mind. “I’m just worried that after a few drinks, Tabitha may give Brad the wrong impression.”

  He took my hand and placed it back where it had been on his warm, firm chest. I could feel his heart vibrating against my palm. “Grant’s no angel.”

  Once again, I removed my hand. “What do you mean?”

  “Let’s put it this way. If a chick tosses her panties at him at one of his gigs, he’ll be sure to keep them and look for the owner.”

  “Are you telling me that he’s likely to cheat on Tabitha?”

  “Probably.” Aidan’s response was so cool and unaffected, my jaw dropped.

  “But how can you be so accepting of that?”

  “Clarissa, there’s little I can do to change him. And Tabitha strikes me as the same, so they’re really well suited, aren’t they?”

  “But Tabitha can be sensitive too, you know.”