Lured into Love (Blossom in Winter #2) - Melanie Martins Page 0,102
website and in my plan. Maybe a website focused on the artists will help the branding. One thing is for sure: I definitely need a digital agency to take care of the communication and marketing part. As I look at my financial plan, I can’t help but smile at the growth projections. Being able to invest further in artists and their artwork feels like a dream come true. Then my mind starts fantasizing about having my own office with the name “Gatt-Dieren Art Fund” pinned on the marble wall behind the reception desk. Once the fund is big enough, I should rent one of those fancy offices somewhere downtown, hire a few associates, and have an art gallery on the ground floor where I can show off the most exciting pieces of art the fund owns. That would be so dope and alternative. Just like the fund.
“Jumpsuit or dress?”
Returning to planet Earth, I put down my book and find Janine standing in front of me with a formal white jumpsuit in one hand and a white cowl-necked slip dress in the other.
“Huh…” That’s the most coherent answer I manage to give her. “Both look great.”
But Janine isn’t satisfied. “Miss, you have to pick one.”
As I look more attentively at both of them, I notice that the dress, although it has a hem long enough for my liking, doesn’t have sleeves like the jumpsuit, just spaghetti straps.
“Can I see the backs?”
Janine turns them around. The jumpsuit has a zipper on the back going all the way up to the neck, while the white dress is backless.
“The white dress,” I tell her. I know this dress will piss off my dad. And I’m in the mood to piss him off.
“Perfect. Now jump into the shower,” Janine commands. “Hurry up! Your dad will be here in thirty minutes to pick you up.”
Rolling my eyes, I leave Peikoff and my laptop and go to the bathroom to get ready for the evening.
“Petra,” I hear my dad calling from downstairs. “Are you ready?
“One minute!” I shout back as I look at myself once more in the mirror, while Janine applies hairspray to the high ponytail she just pulled my hair into.
She takes a portable mirror to show me the back of my hairstyle. “Do you like it?”
“I love it,” I tell her, my tone filled with excitement as I clap my hands. I love how the ponytail pushes my hair up very high, showing off more of the backless dress I’m wearing.
“This dress looks absolutely fantastic on you,” she praises.
“Thanks, Janine.”
Now that I’m ready, I swallow a Xanax, then grab my clutch, the matte gloss I’m wearing, and my iPhone. Let’s do this, I think to myself after drawing in a breath.
As I walk down the stairs, I notice Dad standing near the front door, wearing a tux, and impatiently waiting for me as he keeps glancing at his watch. Then his head turns in my direction, and his jaw drops. His expression remains totally dazed as he observes every inch of my dress as I come down the stairs. “What kind of dress is that?” he snaps.
“It’s an evening dress, Dad,” I reply snobbishly. “Haven’t you seen The Thomas Crown Affair? One of the actresses even wears a similar one to a gala event in it.”
“Yes, but—”
“And she is even a painter,” I cut him off, a smile settling on my lips as I revel in his discomfort. “Shall we?”
“Petra,” he says between gritted teeth, having none of it. “Do you see me showing off so much skin?”
“It’s not my fault if men have to cover up,” I snap as I open the door and walk outside. “Let’s go. We are late.”
I greet Anthony, who’s standing in front of the car, before letting out a quick sigh of relief. At least this time Dad didn’t book a limo. Anthony greets me with a big, bright smile and opens the door for me.
Once Dad sits beside me, I notice that his expression remains just as tormented at the outrageously immodest dress I’m wearing. Even though the dress falls below my knees, Dad can’t hide his displeasure. And my smirk keeps rising.
His eyes finally leave my dress but then land on my left hand, which is resting on the middle seat. Dad keeps looking intently at it, before letting out an exasperated breath. Trying to hide his disapproval, he turns his glare to the car window, but I know him all too well.