Bidding For Her Curves - Flora Ferrari Page 0,36
decide to zip it and let Mason do what he has to do, but I’m still not sure what I can do to help with this development or even the charity for that matter.
He makes one call while driving, to Nicholas, his PA who doesn’t answer.
Mason goes quiet after that until we hit the main strip of the downtown shopping district.
I’ve only ever seen this end of town from the bus, all the high end fashion house stores. Places I could never afford to even look in the windows.
Mason perks up once we pull up to what he tells me is his favorite place for just about everything.
“They do all my suit and watches, they have a jeweler right inside,” he says excitedly, adding, “They do women’s stuff too.”
“Aren’t you worried?” I ask him, wondering if he should be spending any money if one of his companies just went broke.
“The only thing I’m worried about is if they still have any food left,” he says, winking at me.
“Food?” I protest, thinking he might not have heard me properly.
“Yeah,” he says eagerly. “They almost always have something going.”
I feel a moment of complete hesitation. I’m wearing sweat pants and track shoes, I can’t walk into a high end boutique store…
“Its fine, Jules,” Mason says, putting his hand on my arm.
“I practically keep them in business, my watches, it’s a thing I have,” he says bashfully glancing at his wrist, but it doesn’t do much for my anxiety.
How can a boutique have food anyway?
Mason parks right out front, and to my surprise, we’re greeted by two uniformed doormen who open each side of the car and welcome Mason as if they’ve spent all day waiting for him.
The outside of the building is almost blink and miss it, with the huge brass doors being the only give away that there’s even anything inside.
Once inside though, I literally need Mason to hold me up by my arm. Craning my neck I almost topple over, looking up.
“It’s beautiful!” is all I can say.
At least three floors of glittering glass and marble staircases, each with a stylish, modern theme for men’s, ladies, and general fashion.
I think. I’m no fashionista, but the whole place reeks of class, style… and money. Lots of money.
There’s a jeweler, just as Mason said, with an armed guard tipping his hat to Mason when he sees him. But best of all, there’s the smell of fresh roasted coffee, bread, bacon, cookies, and everything else that just smells like home.
Not my home, but what I wish my house did smell like… if I even baked or cooked.
“Mr. Mason!” A warm, deep voice calls out.
An older man, impeccably dressed appears out of nowhere, taking the hand Mason’s offered and then looking to me with nothing but the same warmth and respect.
“This is Ms. McPherson, Giles. She’s working under me directly and we’d like a new wardrobe for her,” Mason says casually.
“Jules, this is Giles, my tailor and watch dealer and very dear friend. He’ll have someone size you and we can grab something to eat.”
I don’t know what to say, but once Giles snaps his fingers, two women, as well dressed as he is appear and usher me upstairs.
Before I let go of him, Mason whispers that they’re safe and won’t bite and that he’ll be along in any minute.
I can hear Mason telling Giles that I’ll need formal, business, and casual wear, “And a watch, of course… Oh! You don’t do jeans by any chance?” he adds, and I turn to see an amused look on the tailors face as he holds an open hand towards the jewelry counters on the ground floor before I disappear into another world.
A world of fabric swatches, tasteful measurements, and not even a brow raised or anything mentioned about my size and shape for once.
The two women are slightly deadpan but obviously serious about their work, they ask me a few questions about my underwear and both look at each other once I make face.
After I’ve been measured, they walk me through to a private suite filled with lingerie and every kind of fabric and lace I could dream of.
“Choose from the rack and we’ll have them custom altered,” one of the women says politely, planting me in front of what looks like the larger sizes.
“If you need help, just ring the bell,” she adds, letting a warm smile flash across her face.
I don’t feel awkward or embarrassed for just being me. I feel like I’m in