Keeping Secret (Secret McQueen) - By Sierra Dean Page 0,24

but clearly meant business.

I suspected Kimberly had used the magic words—spare no expense.

“This is Olivia. She’ll be our consultant for the evening and has assured me we can take all the time we need.” On a typical day, Kleinfeld ran on an almost military schedule with appointments, trying to get brides in and out at a rapid-fire pace so they could make as many sales as possible in as short a window as possible. To throw appointment time into the wind meant Olivia and her managers believed my single purchase would make it worthwhile.

I wasn’t used to being the center of such focused attention. Olivia was counting on me to make her commission. I guess I’d better step up and be a good little bride. Once I had a dress, I could get the hell out of here, and that would be worth whatever cost was on the tag.

“All righty,” I said with a smile, pushing myself off the squishy loveseat. “Let’s get started.”

Kimberly and Olivia left Kellen, Brigit and Mercedes in a waiting area. In this part of the salon the pinkness of the waiting room vanished, replaced by white, white and more white. I’d never seen so much colorlessness in my life. Once I was seated in a closet-sized dressing room with Olivia and Kimberly, the barrage of questions began. Cut, color—apparently a dozen different kinds of white existed, from linen to ivory to gold to frigging virgin snow. I thought back to my nightmare, recalling all the layers of tulle and princessy poof, and described the exact opposite. I wanted slim and elegant.

“If I see poof, I won’t even try it on,” I warned Olivia.

“Of course.” Olivia nodded sagely, making notes on her clipboard. “I’d never dream of putting you in a big dress. You’re such a petite thing.”

Kimberly put in her two cents, obviously having a specific vision of my wedding. The words regal and sophisticated got used a lot, making me wonder how Lucas had spun this wedding to her. “I want her to look like a queen,” she concluded.

“She will be unforgettable,” Olivia promised.

Fifteen minutes later a half dozen plastic bags hung in the room. The dresses trapped inside made me think of full body bags in a morgue. That thought was followed shortly by, What the hell is wrong with me?

The first dress I tried on was a shade Olivia called blush, but I was nobody’s fool. It was pink and had a giant flower below my bustline. I gave Olivia an are you kidding me look, but she ignored me and presented me to Kimberly for inspection. The wedding planner regarded me with careful hesitation. She obviously didn’t want to give her opinion until she had assessed mine.

I glowered.

“Well…um…it’s nice.”

“Let’s go show the girls!” Olivia suggested, excitement overwhelming her.

I knew why. I’d spotted the price tag before she’d draped the rosy monstrosity over my head, and this cupcake topper of a dress was valued at a staggering twenty-five thousand dollars. I would pay that much to never look at it again.

I was paraded in front of the girls. Brigit loved it, to no one’s surprise, and Mercedes did her best to cover her laughter with a cough, but she coughed so much Olivia sent a subordinate to get Cedes some water, which made Kellen start sniggering.

I sighed and smiled at Olivia. “Let’s try something else.”

Three dresses later I was developing a lace rash and running out of patience. How could any bride in her right mind look forwards to this part of the experience? Even without the extra skirts and bustles, the dresses were heavy and cumbersome, the boning of each bodice threatened to cut off my breath, and all the white was making me feel more than a little guilty about the super-hot sex I’d had before I got here.

My impatience was starting to show. Every time Olivia brought a new dress to replace one I’d rejected, I would groan. To keep my girls from staging a revolt, someone had brought them a full bottle of Moët and a plate of finger sandwiches. I’m sure it was going to be added to my final costs, but I didn’t care as long as they were enjoying themselves.

Judging by the bubbling laughter that erupted every time I came out in a new dress, they were having way more fun than I was.

“I’m not good at this,” I complained to Kimberly when Olivia ducked out. “I’m not the kind of girl who feels her