“There are three bedrooms, an office, a dining room, living room, and the kitchen. There is a pool on the terrace, but it is currently empty due to the weather. The hot tub is open though,” Rachel said, reading my mind. I gulped slightly. This was bigger than my parents’ house and it was sixteen stories in the air. “I’ll show you your room.”
Rachel guided me into the main living room across hardwood floors. The furniture was sleek and modern, but it felt comfortable. As we walked into the room, a gentle light turned on making it easy to navigate but not bright enough to cause glare on the floor-to-ceiling windows.
“That’s the Statue of Liberty,” I whispered, drawn to the windows like a child. I wanted to press my hands up against the glass and peer outside, but I only managed to gape and stare out the window. I never thought in a million years I would ever walk into a place with views like this.
“Yes. If you’d like, I can arrange a sightseeing tour of the city for you.” Rachel stood watching me, a bemused smile on her face.
“That would be amazing! I don’t know how much it would cost, but I would love to see Central Park and Times Square too,” I said, pulling myself away from the window. Rachel laughed.
“Cost is no issue. Jack has made it very clear that you are to have anything you want, no matter the price. You are, technically speaking, the wife of a billionaire.”
My tongue felt very dry. The most I had ever had in my bank account at one time was a little over five thousand dollars, and that had only lasted until I paid tuition. The idea that I didn’t need to worry about money was slightly intimidating. Rachel tipped her head, motioning me to follow.
“I realize that this must all be very new for you, Emma. I’ll help you as much as I can. If you need anything or want anything, please let me know. Mr. Saunders has put me at your disposal for as long as you are in New York.” She turned and smiled, pushing open a door to reveal a large bedroom. “This is your room.”
I stepped inside. The room was probably as big as my entire apartment back home. A beautiful king-sized bed sat in the middle of the room on an island of plush carpet surrounded by hardwood floors. Another floor to ceiling window dominated the far wall, a sheer curtain currently obscuring the view. A writing desk was tucked in the corner next to a wooden dresser, and I could see a bathroom bigger than my parents’ kitchen through an attached doorway.
“Some clothes are in the closet for you, and everything you need is in the bathroom. If you’re hungry, the kitchen is fully stocked. Mr. Saunders will be staying at the office tonight, so you have the place to yourself. Will breakfast at eight be acceptable? We have a busy day tomorrow.” Rachel stepped back into the doorway, clasping her hands behind her back. I realized that it was late and she was probably ready for bed.
“That should be fine. Um, if I need something in the middle of the night, who should I call? Is there a number for the landlord I should know?”
Rachel’s lip twitched up in amusement. “No, no landlord. If you need anything, you have my phone number. My apartment is just downstairs, so I’m not far away. There is also a security guard outside at all times that can assist you with anything you may need in the night.”
“Then I will see you at eight tomorrow,” I said. A yawn snuck out at the very end, my body suddenly realizing that I was tired. Rachel nodded briskly and headed down the hallway. I heard her close the door behind her.
Suddenly, I was very tired... and very alone. I quickly got ready for bed and cuddled into the downy-softness of the big bed. Sleep found me quickly and I fell into it deeply.
***
I woke to a gray dawn leaking in through the gauzy curtain. Outside, I could see the Hudson River flowing past a cold world. Gray buildings reached up towards a gray sky, the city skyline stretching as far as I could see. The city was so much bigger than anything I had ever seen and I felt tiny in comparison. I was very far from home.
I slipped on some clothes and headed to the kitchen. Rachel would be arriving any minute, but I was starving so I poured a glass of milk and sat at the comfortable wooden kitchen table, looking out at the city skyline and wondering what crazy thing was going to happen today.
My thoughts were interrupted by a sharp knock on the door, followed by Rachel calling my name. She found me in the kitchen and handed me a foil wrapped burrito.
“I had Maria make yours mild, but if you like spicier, she makes a mean salsa,” Rachel said as she sat down across from me and unwrapped a matching burrito. She set a container of salsa in the center of the table. I carefully pulled the foil off my own burrito and took a bite.
“This is fantastic,” I moaned as I stuffed my face full of eggs, potatoes, cheese and tortilla. Rachel grinned and nodded as she took a bite out of her own.
“Maria, the head maid, makes these from scratch. I have yet to find a restaurant that makes them this good. Try it with the salsa.”
I poured a little on the top and took a bite. My mouth flooded with spicy deliciousness. It was the perfect level of heat so I poured more on. Before I knew it, I was licking the last bits off my fingers. “So what are we doing today?” I asked, wishing I had more burrito. I was full, but it had been so tasty.
“We are going to dress you like a billionaire’s wife. I hope you are ready for a busy day,” Rachel answered, folding up the foil to her own burrito. I tried not to sigh too loudly. I hated shopping. Nothing ever seemed to fit properly and I always ended up spending too much for things I only sort of liked.
We stood up from the table and headed to the door. Rachel frowned at my ripped coat as I threw it on over my long-sleeved t-shirt. “What?” I asked.
“We have our work cut out for us today,” she said with a forced smile.
I shrugged and opened the door, nearly running into a tall, dark-haired man. I sputtered an apology and stepped back into the apartment, hoping he was supposed to be there and wasn’t a very clever tabloid reporter.
“Hello, Dean. Is the car ready?” Rachel asked him smoothly as she buttoned her coat and stepped around him into the hallway. He nodded. “Excellent. Dean, I would like to introduce you to Ms. Emma LaRue. Emma, this is Dean Sherman. He will be your personal security consultant while you are here in New York.”
“Personal security consultant? You mean I get a bodyguard?”
Dean grinned at me. He was tall and thin, but I could tell he was far stronger than he looked. His dark hair held traces of gray, but his blue eyes were bright and piercing. He held out his hand and when I shook it, there was genuine warmth in his grasp.
“Ms. LaRue, it is a pleasure to meet you. Your safety is my priority, so I will be following you at all times. I do my best to be discreet, but if there is a situation, I will need you to follow my directions.” I nodded and he let go of my hand.
“Are you sure I need a bodyguard? I mean, no offense, but I’m not that important.”
Dean gave me a look that could match my father’s. “You are important, and Mr. Saunders agrees with me. So no trying to lose me because you don’t think you need a bodyguard.” If he was anything like my father, he was about to start explaining to me something he felt was important.
“I would never—” I started.
“We’ll go over your rules in the car, Dean,” Rachel cut in, hustling me down the hallway. “We’re on a tight schedule today.”
“Of course Ms. Weber,” Dean said smoothly, tipping his head. “As you wish.”
Rachel gave him a brief smile before shooing me into the elevator. A shiny black SUV was waiting in the garage. Dean slid gracefully into the front seat as Rachel and I took the back seat. Once inside, Rachel and Dean went through a list of rules to keep me safe. It was mostly common sense and making sure that Dean could always see me. He made sure I had his phone number and gave me several ways to get his attention if I felt I needed him to be closer. I liked Dean. The way he spoke reminded me of my father and it was comforting to know he was looking out for me.
The car pulled up
in front of a chic looking tall building with red awnings. Rachel grinned at me as we exited the vehicle and stepped into the luxurious store. Shoes that made my mouth water and feet ache just by looking at the heels, purses with names that I only associated with movie stars, and gleaming racks of beautiful clothes stood in front of me. I picked up a small bag, thinking it was kind of pretty and glanced at the price tag. $5,950. I set it down slowly, afraid it might break if I touched it too roughly.
“Rachel! They said you were coming today. How wonderful to see you! Is there anything in particular you are looking for?” A friendly voice drew my attention away from the designer clutch purse. A fashionably dressed woman was smiling at Rachel. She looked at me for a moment as though she recognized me, but couldn't place from where.
“Hello, Kristine. I need to purchase some basics for Ms. LaRue. “Rachel smiled politely at her, and the woman’s eyes flashed with recognition.
“LaRue? Jack's beach bride Emma LaRue...” The woman's voice trailed off as she realized she was quoting a tabloid magazine. She suddenly looked at me in a very different manner. “Of course. Let me get the room set up for you!”
Rachel turned and faced me. She ran her eyes up and down, eying me like a blank canvas she was preparing to paint. I tried not to fidget.
“Hmm, I think the spring collection will suit you wonderfully. Come with me,” Rachel said with a grin. I could tell she was in her element, as she headed into a rack of clothes and started pulling out different designs and patterns. She would hold one up, evaluate, and then either put it back or drape it over the waiting arm of Kristine.
“Do you prefer comfort or color?” She asked briskly.
“Comfort. Definitely comfort.”
“Are you comfortable in a dress? What lengths?”
“I guess so. I don’t wear them very often, but they’re fine. I like the knee length ones. Too short and my legs get sticky when I sit on things.”
Rachel nodded, asking questions as she moved through the racks adding more clothes to the growing pile in the saleswoman’s arms. “I think we have a good starting point,” she said finally.
I reluctantly followed the other two women to the dressing area. We were in our own separate room, filled with mirrors and a comfortable looking chair outside the changing area, a space obviously reserved for exclusive customers. Rachel selected an assortment of dresses, slacks and blouses, handing them to me with no order I could see. I walked into the changing area, glancing over my shoulder as she settled into the chair.
I looked at the clothes with dread. I hated trying on clothes. Hated it! It was something I did only in the most dire situations and even then as quickly as possible. I could hear Kristine offer Rachel something to drink, and Rachel requesting some sandwiches as well. We were going to be here for a while. There was no way I was going to get out of trying them on, and besides, I had almost no clothes back at the penthouse.
With a sigh of resignation, I pulled off my clothes, neatly folding them on the small bench and tried on the first dress. To my surprise, it fit better than I expected. It was a simple wool dress, but it actually seemed to fit.
“The purple one fits,” I called out.
“Let me see,” Rachel replied. I sighed. I could tell she was going to have to look at everything I tried on. This was going to be a painful few hours. I took a deep breath and opened the door.
“The color is definitely good, but we need a different cut. Kristine, will you get the one with the square cut?” Rachel frowned thoughtfully and then smiled. “These are going to look so amazing on you. Go ahead and forget the rest of the dresses and skip to the slacks. Try the black ones first. I think you’ll like the cut.”
I returned to the changing room, and slipped out of the dress glancing at the fluttering price tag. $1,895! For a dress? The number made my head spin and I hung the dress up very carefully. I knew that kind of money would be nothing to the Saunders’ bank account, but it was still way more than I had in mine.
I slid the pants on and wanted to shout for joy. They fit. Actually fit. And they made my butt look good. And my front. Holy cow did I like these pants! This never happened while shopping by myself. Pants that fit on the first try? I didn’t hesitate this time, opening the door to show Rachel.
“Nice! How do they feel?” Rachel asked, standing up and walking over. I turned slowly so she could see the pants.
“They feel amazing.”
“I thought these would be perfect for you. Oh, you are going to be fun to shop for! You are going to be able to pull off some amazing styles.” Rachel was grinning from ear to ear.
“What do you mean? I usually can’t find anything that looks good,” I said slowly.
“That’s because you didn’t have me,” she replied. There was a light in her eyes, a simple happiness in helping me find clothes that was contagious.
“I’m guessing you like to shop,” I said.
Rachel nodded as she walked around me, rechecking the pants. Rachel laughed. “I like shopping. I love fashion. In fact, ‘love’ might not be strong enough to describe how much I enjoy fashion.” She motioned me back towards the dressing room, handing me a blue dress from her collection. “Try on this one—I want to see it on you.”
I stepped back into the dressing room and slid out of the pants and shirt and into a blue satin sheath dress. It felt like luxury. “Why do you like fashion? I guess I’ve never seen the appeal.”
“I like the art of it. At its core, it’s a way to make the world more beautiful. Now, I don’t go for the stick-thin model and I don’t have this or that designer because he’s ‘the designer’ of the month. For me, it’s an art form. The way clothes can bring out a person’s personality and moods. I love finding beauty in the fabrics and styles that fit a person. It’s like painting a walking canvas with a million different kinds of brushes and paints. I can dress you for an occasion, a mood, an emotion, anything, but the fun is finding things that work for the individual and creating something beautiful out of the pieces. It must be tailored to the individual or it won’t work. Something that works for one person, will never work for another.” Her enthusiasm was evident in her voice. It made me smile.
“You make it sound glamorous and interesting. I hate to say it, but I’ve never thought of clothes like that.”
“Most people don’t. Certain aspects of it have been so commercialized that it has become more about the money than the design.” She looked sheepish for a moment. “I’ll admit that having access to a billionaire’s pocketbook does make it easier to afford some of the more unique pieces, but today, part of getting these clothes for you is getting the brand recognition. We want people to associate you with the wealth of that designer. So, in this instance, the money is actually part of the design.”
“Sounds like I’m being encouraged to get the expensive thing then, I guess. That’s a first for me!” I laughed and smoothed the fabric across my hips. It hung nicely across my hips, but was baggy where it was obviously meant to fit someone with a much bigger bust.
“You obviously know a lot about all this. How did you end up a personal assistant? Is fashion a prerequisite course at personal assistant school?” I asked as I opened the door and stepped out. Rachel looked me up and down, murmuring to herself before answering my question.
“I like it, but it will need some tailoring,” Rachel said absentmindedly as she pulled the fabric tight in the back and I could practically hear her smile as she thought about how it would look. She nodded to herself and then raised her eyes to mine. “I majored in fashion and design in college. One of my senior designs caught the eye of Mrs. Saunders. To make a long story short, I ended up entwining myself with the Saunders family. When Jack needed a personal assistant, he hired me. Now try this one,” she said handing me a bright red shirt.
I took the brightly colored shirt and headed back to the dressing room. “So, do you still design clothes then?”
“Sometimes. I’ve made a couple of exclusiv
e garments for the Saunders family, but Mr. Saunders keeps me too busy to devote much time to it,” she answered. A hint of sadness crept into her voice at the end. I wondered how much she missed it and if she felt it was worth it. She continued, as if reading my mind. “I miss it, but I like my job. This though, this is fun. Mr. Saunders lets me control his wardrobe, but the female stuff is so much more fun.”
I stepped out of the dressing room again. I hadn’t had this much fun trying on clothes since I was a kid in my mom’s closet. I felt pretty in these clothes, and I knew Rachel was enjoying dressing me. I opened the door and Rachel made a face.
“Not that one. The color and cut aren’t going to work.”
“I didn’t think it looked too bad,” I said confused. I had liked the shirt in the mirror.
“It doesn’t look bad Emma, but it doesn’t look amazing. I want you to look amazing. See how it bunches in the shoulders? And it brings out too much red in your face. If it were a little darker and cut differently it would work, but not like this,” she said as she pointed out the bunching on my shoulders. I hadn’t even noticed until she showed me. She handed me another shirt and waited for me to change. “See? This one works.”
I looked in the mirror as she pointed out how the shoulders now lay flat, and the slight difference in red against my skin. The new shirt really did look better.
“Thank you,” I said, meeting her eyes in the mirror. She grinned.
“You are most welcome. How do you feel about sweaters?”
“They should be warm.” I grinned at her in the mirror. She laughed.
“I think we’ll get along fine. I have some ideas I want to try,” Rachel said, her eyes going distant as she thought of the possibilities of how she could dress me.
Chapter 13
Rachel had me Jeannette what felt like every piece of clothing in the store. I didn’t mind though. With her artistic eye, it was actually fun to try things on. She made sure to pick things that were always in my size, or at least close enough that I didn’t get the frustration I usually did trying on clothes. She picked out things I would never have thought to wear on my own, but I was constantly amazed at how good they looked in the mirror.
Tangled: A New Adult Romance Boxed Set (12 Book Bundle of Billionaires, Bad Boys, and Royalty) Page 9