“Whatever you want, baby. It’s you and me now, from now on.”
Alicia nodded, her eyes shining. “From now on,” she agreed, and they began again where they had left off.
The End.
Dressing The Billionaire (An Office Romance)
By Michelle Love
I like my women in beautiful clothes, but I like them even better out of them!
When I first meet Anna, she wants to dress me from the skin out, but the things that I want to do with her have nothing to do with clothes at all.
Anna is perfect, sweet, and sexy with a body that could drive a man to sin, but can she really keep up with what I have to offer? I have a taste for the finest things in life, and some of those things, well, they can get pretty dark and intense.
If Anna can keep up with me, I’ll be putty in her hands. Now if only I knew if I could trust her...
CHAPTER ONE
Evan
“Well, Jones, if it goes through, we could be very rich men. Are you ready for that?”
Evan grinned as his junior partner said the usual cautious thing. The man was brilliant—Evan had chosen him specifically for his intelligence and vision—but he lacked self-assurance. Someday, Evan was sure he would help Jones attain the confidence that men in their business couldn’t do without.
“Well, ready or not, my friend, it’s coming. So get ready. Get the details for that dinner planned. We’re taking the right step. I know it, you know it, and sooner or later, the board is going to come around.”
By the time Evan hung up ten minutes later, Jones had appeared to be at least somewhat more certain. Evan shook his head. He was a man who loved his work almost as much as he loved the luxuries it gave him, but sometimes it was like pulling teeth.
He dropped a few bills on the table, more than enough to cover lunch and the tip, and walked out into the mild London afternoon. Spring never seemed to last very long in London, he mused. Soon enough, it would be sweltering summer, and he would want to drive or be driven everywhere he went. For now, though, spring was gorgeous, and the weather so mild that a walk back to his quiet London office seemed like a good idea.
At least, it did before a cyclist veered up over the curb just long enough to snag Evan’s arm on a metal handlebar spur. Evan swore, the cyclist yelped, and Evan was dragged forward by a yard before he finally managed to pull away. He looked down at his sleeve, ignoring the bruise likely forming from the impact in favor of a sartorial once-over. As Evan stood there muttering under his breath, the inept cyclist hurried away, leaving Evan cursing a blue streak.
Evan was a man who liked to dress well, and even if he wasn’t going to be seeing any investors today, he was dressed in a slate blue suit that was rather a favorite. At least, it had been until that bicycle snagged the sleeve and tore a short, jagged slash in the arm.
Evan hesitated for a moment. He was tempted to simply toss the suit or donate it. But he hated the idea of giving up an otherwise perfectly good suit.
Saville Row wasn’t far away from where he was, just slightly past his own office. The bustling street was lined with the finest tailors in the Western world, and he made his way to a discreet shop set back from the thoroughfare, the only indication of its presence at all a handsome brass sign on the door. He had becoming to Monteray’s for suits since he was in his twenties, and he had the utmost faith in their service.
Evan climbed up the narrow staircase, and an old-fashioned bell chimed above his head when he let himself in. Instead of seeing the gray-haired older man who had handled his suits for ages, behind the desk stood a lovely young woman.
She couldn’t have been a day out of her early twenties with a thick head of ash-blond hair and a curvy figure dressed in an old-fashioned cotton blouse and a neat tweed skirt. In spite of her obvious youth, she wore hose and clunky dark shoes. She also had her nose firmly buried in a fashion magazine as Evan walked in.
She was so distracted with the magazine that Evan had to clear his throat before she looked up in shock.
“Oh my goodness!” She hurried over to greet him, her sweet heart-shaped faced furrowed with worry.
“I’m so sorry, sir, but I didn’t hear the shop bell ring. Welcome to Monteray’s! My name is Anna. How can I help you?” When she looked up at him with a shy smile, Evan was enchanted to see that her eyes were a deep amber, something he was certain he had never seen before.
“Good afternoon. Can you tell me where Edmund might be?”
“Oh! Mr. Monteray is seeing to wool shipments from Iceland today, and he won’t be in until late. May I ask you what you need?”
He pondered the situation momentarily before extending his arm, displaying the ragged sleeve. It was unlikely that the secretary would be interested, but perhaps she would convey his haste to her employer if she saw the damage. “This. I require this fixed sooner rather than later.”
Anna examined the tear on his sleeve with the calm gravity that a surgeon would bestow on his patient.
“That is a rather bad tear, sir,” she said thoughtfully. “May I ask how you came by it?”
“Street brawl.”
She looked up at him as if unsure whether to take him seriously, and Evan laughed at the disbelief in her lovely eyes. “A cyclist snagged it.”
Her smile left him slightly breathless.
“I was going to guess that it was something like that. A snag and then a drag. That makes for an awkward repair, though.” She drew her full lip between her teeth and worried it. “It really does.”
Evan raised his eyebrow at her curiously. “You sound very sure of that.”
“I might be new here, sir, but I’m hardly new to the craft.”
Evan blinked at her, noticing the wide pockets of her skirts for the first time, and the stub of measuring tape that peeked out like an insolent tongue. Anna did seem a little dowdy to be a secretary, even for a business as conservative as Monteray’s. In that case…no, he thought in surprise. It couldn’t be. Monterary was far too old-fashioned to…
“So Edmund has started doing trade in women’s dresses as well?” Evan asked. “And you are a seamstress?”
Anna drew herself up to her full height, which couldn’t have been more than five-foot-five, if that. The look she gave him was defiant and more than a little proud, and he found himself becoming even more intrigued with the girl.
“As a matter of fact, sir, a woman who makes custom dresses of a high quality is called a dressmaker rather than a seamstress. I am not a dressmaker. I am a tailor.”
Her voice dared him to make something out of it, and Evan swallowed a smile. For some reason, he had no interest in puncturing her pride, as much as he enjoyed doing it to pompous idiots in his business sector.
“All right then, Anna.” He gestured at the tear in his sleeve, and she looked at it again. “What would you propose to do with this? Would you simply get rid of the whole suit?”
“No, I wouldn’t,” Anna replied. “I would fix it by hand. I could have it done for you in less than half an hour. But—”
“That sounds splendid,” Evan said warmly, more than pleased at her efficiency. “If you take a look, you’ll see that I have an account here. It should be no problem to bill it.”
She looked worried.
“Well, sir, that might be a little difficult. You know Mr. Monteray, and he is very particular. I have a feeling that you might be one of our top-tier clients, and that means that under no circumstances am I to undertake any repairs for you without his direct and immediate supervision.”
“I see. Well, I have decided that that doesn’t matter.”
“Sir?”
Evan rested one large hand slightly on her small, slender shoulder. “If you think that I am a top-tier client, you must know that I am someone who is used to getting my way, yes? I want you to fix this up for me. No excuses now.”
CHAPTER TWO
Anna
She should have known that the man was trouble the moment he startled
her. If it had been anyone else, she would have been completely fine, but something about seeing this man in the doorway made her mouth go dry.
He had to be in his forties, at least fifteen years older than her own twenty-two years of age. He was dark-haired with just a touch of silver at his temples, and unlike so many of the men she knew, he was in amazing shape. He wore his American suit like a knight dressed for battle, and there was something in his bright green eyes that gave her butterflies in her stomach. When he set his hand on her shoulders, tingles ran through her entire body, and his smile that made her own lips curve reflexively upwards in response.
Of course, just because the client was ridiculously attractive didn’t mean that she should be doing what she was doing. Though she’d couched her words both for the sake of the client and her own employment, Mr. Monteray was far more than just particular. He was a tyrant with an iron fist that lorded over his own small kingdom with the eye of an eagle and a heart of flint. His exacting standards made him a veritable legend on a street of legendary tailors, but also made him a terrifying boss.
She should have said no. Truly, Anna should have looked away from the man’s mesmerizing green eyes and told him firmly that there was a code of business here that she had to adhere to. But instead, she found herself somehow escorting him to a comfortable brocade armchair in the visitor’s alcove and pouring him a glass of wine to enjoy as he waited. When she asked for his jacket, he gave her a bemused smile that certainly seemed more flirtatious than it should have been.
“Usually, I’m not the one who who’s being asked to strip.”
It was mild as such things went, but Anna found that she couldn’t stop herself from blushing. The worst part was that she thought he knew she was blushing, too.
Anna felt far too aware that the client—a Mr. Evan Sheffield apparently, from the card he presented—could see exactly what she was doing from his alcove. She expected him to pull out a phone or to pick up one of the books from the shelves that lined the alcove, but instead he sat there in his shirtsleeves, sipped his wine, and watched her with a fascinated expression.
It’s nothing you haven’t dealt with before, and if he stays quiet and doesn’t scream at you, he’s already going to be far better than Mr. Monteray, isn’t he? Just do the job, girl!
She draped the jacket over the dummy, pulling up one of the tall chairs so she could work on it without straining herself. The tear was bad but hardly as bad as it could have been, and she realized she recognized the cloth.
“Is this one of ours?”
Anna barely knew she had spoken out loud before she got an answer.
“It is,” Evan confirmed, his voice a comfortable drawl. “I get all of my suits here.”
“Ah, I see.”
She was just putting in the first few stitches when the hairs on the back of her neck prickled, and she spun the chair around. Instead of remaining seated in his alcove and enjoying his drink, Evan Sheffield was suddenly behind her, watching her as she worked.
Anna’s cheeks went red. “Sir!”
“What?”
“I...” She stuttered. “Believe me when I say I will give all my attention to your suit! You do not need to worry that I am going to ruin it. I know what I am doing.”
“But I don’t!” he said with a surprisingly boyish smile. “I only wanted to see.”
Anna told herself that he was a top-tier client. Telling him where to go and what to do was even more likely to get her fired than breaking the particular rule about attending to top clients solely with her boss present. So instead, she mumbled something about it being fine and returned to her work.
When he next spoke, his voice was soft, almost conciliatory. “You must have worked very hard to get here.”
“All my life,” she said absently, her eyes focused on the fine fabric while her fingers moved over it swiftly, the rhythms of the needle as familiar as breathing. “I’ve always loved men’s suits. The hang, the drape, the endless amount of creativity wrapped in what most would consider to be one of the most conservative packages in the world. A good suit is a work of art, Mr. Sheffield.”
“Call me Evan.”
A peculiar shiver ran down her spine, and somehow, she knew that he was aware of it. He wasn’t asking her to call him by his first name. It was an order, and she nodded almost unconsciously.
“Yes...Evan.” She returned her attention to the torn fabric beneath her fingertips.
Within a matter of minutes, Anna nodded, pleased that her initial assessment from afar had been mistaken. Up close, she could see that the tear was not as severe as she’d worried. “This will be an easy fix. The repair should be almost invisible.”
Evan smiled widely, making her feel as though she’d said something about repairing a bodily limb, rather than a sleeve. “I’m glad you could fix it. It is one of my favorites.”
“I would love to see you in something Italian, though.” Anna nearly dropped her needle when those words popped out of her mouth. What is wrong with you?? For half a moment, she wondered if she had been lucky enough that Evan had somehow missed it, but then he chuckled.
“Italian, eh? And why is that?”
“Well, you’re wearing an American suit right now,” Anna mumbled, seeing no way out of the conversation she’d unintentionally initiated. “It’s bigger, boxier, even if it is well-fit to you. I...I suppose that if I had my way, you would be dressed in Italian because it’s slimmer, sleeker. You have an excellent frame for Italian, lean and long, and of course, you have the looks for it.”
If she hadn’t been finishing off the seam, Anna was certain she would have fallen over at her own words. God, what was wrong with her? She had gotten so very far in the tailoring world by keeping her head down and her mouth shut, and now she looked like she was going to get fired over speaking to a client as if she were his dear friend.
Instead of being offended, however, Evan seemed delighted.
“That sounds interesting. I can’t say that I’ve ever thought much about the kind of suits I’ve worn. All I know is that Edmund makes the ones that make me look the best. I’ve come to have some fairly high expectations.” He was silent for a long, pensive moment before adding, “And now you’re telling me that I could do better.”
Anna was determined to keep a resolute silence. Saying anything further was only likely to stir up trouble. Then to her surprise, Evan came to stand by her side, and he touched the tip of her sharp chin with his finger, making her look up. The gesture should have been far too intimate from a stranger, but somehow, coming from this man, there was something simply right about it. Almost dreamily, she met his eyes, and he smiled, showing off white and even teeth.
“Tell me what you think I should be wearing.”
“Italian,” she said without hesitation. “You look...powerful and imposing in this suit today. It also made you look heavy and land-bound. In Italian suits, you would be like a knife cutting through the world.”
His sharp eyes narrowed. “I have to admit, I don’t mind the sound of that.”
“And no black,” Anna went on, unable to stop herself as she imagined the privilege of dressing such a handsome man. “It’s too severe for you. But navy, yes, and a pale morning gray, possibly with a pearl blue shirt...”
She was so concentrated on the idea of dressing Evan, of looking into his deep, forest green eyes, that for the second time in the day, she missed the bell above the door ringing. But she didn’t miss the shout of rage as it came up almost behind her.
“What in the name of God are you doing?!”
CHAPTER THREE
Evan
Edmund Monteray was a tall and powerfully built man, and he filled his space like a steam locomotive. He came thumping into the room with eyes full of fury, and for a moment, Evan wanted to step in front of Anna to protect her. He began to step forward, but Monteray stopped short and scowled at the woman. The look on Anna’s face was equal parts dismay and fear, Evan noted, and he hated both e
xpressions, missing her confidence that had been there only moments earlier when she’d been discussing options for his clothing. The woman knew her business, no two ways around it. It was a quality Evan found exceedingly appealing, so to see it vanish so abruptly galled him.
“I asked you a question,” Monteray snapped, his face reddening. “What do you think you are doing?”
“This gentleman came in,” Anna said quietly, clearly accustomed to being berated. The thought of that sat very poorly with Evan. “He asked me to fix this sleeve. Sir, I tried to tell him that it was shop policy to wait for you, but he insisted.”
“And if he insisted you should burn down the building, would you have done that as well?” Monteray seethed. “All he asked you to do, after all, was to take my grandfather’s shop’s reputation in your two hands and cast it into the garbage.”
“She’s right,” Evan cut in. He knew that this was a matter between an employee and an employer. By all rights he should stay out of it, but he had never been all that good about staying out of things when there was an injustice being done. “I’m the one who told her to fix my damned jacket.”
“And of course, your jacket will be fixed, Mr. Sheffield.” Monteray turned obsequious, which only further irritated Evan. “This is more a matter of an impertinent employee. My taking her on was too big a risk, I’m afraid, simply so she could attain some kind of ridiculous dream.”
A glance at Anna made Evan’s blood boil. She sat with her head lowered, eyes cast down, looking so goddamn small and repentant, and for what? For wanting to help him at his own insistence. Evan had never been a man who tolerated fools or bullies, and as he was beginning to realize, Edmund Monteray was both.
“Clearly, you were a chance that I should never have taken,” Monteray turned back to Anna, “and when you leave here today for the last time, you can be sure that no one on Saville Row will be as foolish as I was.”
The Virgin’s Dance_Older Man Younger Woman Romance Page 26