Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 109674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
“I’m Francoise, your seamstress. Mr. Romano sent me to take your measurements so I can sew dresses for you.”
My lips parted in surprise.
“May I come in?”
“Uhh, sure.” I stepped back, still completely taken aback. I had been ripped from my life less than twenty-four hours ago and had trouble catching up. She pulled a suitcase behind her and set it down on the floor beside the bed. Inside was a heap of fabrics in different shades of white and cream. “You’re creating my wedding dress?” I asked.
She shook her head with an apologetic smile. “No, not today. I need you to come to my shop. The fabrics for wedding gowns are too precious and heavy to carry with me. These fabrics are for dresses and nightgowns. Mr. Romano told me he wants to see you in light colors.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Did he?”
I swallowed my anger. This woman had nothing to do with it. She was doing her job. “What if I want a different color or pants?”
She looked at me pleadingly as she gingerly picked up two pieces of clothing. “I’m just following orders. I already made a couple of pieces for you to wear right away.”
“When did you make them?”
She flushed. “In the past few hours. Mr. Romano called me and asked me to create a few dresses for you to wear. Just three pieces. I’ll work on the rest of your wardrobe in the following days.”
She put the dresses down on the bed. As she had said, there were three pieces. One was a simple long-sleeved, floor-length white dress; another was a short dress with long sleeves; and the third was a midi dress with a flared skirt, sweetheart neckline, and short sleeves.
“Could you put them on so I can see if they fit?”
I took the clothes into the bathroom with me and put them down on the rim of the tub. I peeled out of my clothes, laying them down on the floor, like I had to put down the life I had built. What was Flavia doing? She must be worried sick by now. And what about Luciano? Nobody would watch him now. Despite my reluctance, I changed into the first dress, the floor-length one. Surprise washed over me. It fit nearly perfectly. I emerged from the bathroom, and the seamstress immediately set to work, rounding me and touching the fabric at my back where the dress was slightly too big. “Once I have more clothes for you to wear, I’ll take this in, so it fits perfectly.”
“How did you know my measurements?” I asked.
“Mr. Romano guessed them, and he did a very good job.”
I sank my teeth into my lower lip. “How long have you been working for him?”
“For a year. I do all of his clothes.”
I regarded her as she tugged at the hem of my dress, which ended about an inch below my ankle, brushing the floor. I couldn’t help but wonder if she was more than his seamstress. Nestore’s words about how he’d slept with other women cut through me like a sharp knife. Maybe my jealousy was hypocritical, considering I had left him. I couldn’t expect him not to move on. Yet I hadn’t. Nestore had always been with me, even when I’d been thousands of miles away. I had kept my firsts. I wished he had too. I shoved those thoughts aside and focused on Francoise.
All three dresses fit me well enough to wear in the following days. The material was a soft cotton-silk mix that flattered my body. I didn’t usually wear white, but apart from that, the pieces would have been to my liking if Nestore hadn’t forced them on me.
Francoise took my measurements after that. “Please pick the fabrics you prefer, then I’ll be done for today.”
I picked a handful of white- and cream-colored fabrics, then Francoise handed me a small bag with new underwear and tights before she left.
I took a quick shower before putting on the long dress and tights, since it was quite cold for an early spring day in Los Angeles.
I braided my long hair and let it trail down across my left shoulder, so the tips brushed my breast, then I moved toward the door. I was hungry. It was in the early afternoon, as I had slept through the morning. Stepping out into the hallway, I felt overcome with uncertainty. I knew this place and where the kitchen was, but my surroundings felt hostile in a way I couldn’t put into words. The dark floral wallpaper seemed to swallow the light filtering through the half-closed drapes at the end of the corridor.
A shadow moved at the end of the hallway, spiking my pulse in fear. Nestore’s tall form appeared, as if he’d materialized from the shadows. Had he been watching my room?