I’ve been gorging myself on extra large amounts of lime sherbet the past couple of nights.
And don’t even get me started on the Maestro, the man with the to-die for accent and body that touches mine without him even laying a hand on me.
I spent the entire night trying to rid my little head of visions with Alek Dostov. He’s a mystery to me. Really, I don’t understand what he sees in my amateurish designs. With his reputation and money, he could easily have commissioned Prada or Gucci. Instead, he chose me, a little Creole slash English girl from the south. Why? The word won’t go away.
He obviously doesn’t want me to swing with him. Carla has filled me in on many of the numerous adventures she discovered about his life outside the theatre. The man I’ve spent the last few times hanging out with doesn’t match the things I’ve heard. Instead, I’ve only been shown kindness and unbelievable loyalty to Black Butterfly Designs.
If he wanted to get inside my pants, then he would’ve made a move on me last night. But he didn’t. And don’t even get me started on thinking of the time I flashed him the day of the showing. And yet he was a perfect gentleman. Any crappy thing could’ve happened in that situation. But it didn’t.
My theory in this life regarding rumors and hearsay has always been a person is innocent until proven guilty. And you better have some good solid evidence, or I’ll probably just tell you to fuck off.
Alek meets us at the doorway. He wears a black shirt paired with gray slacks and his hair is tamer than it was last night. There just isn’t any use in me trying to deny it. He’s die-on-the-floor gorgeous. “You look amazing in your Gothic dress,” he says and then leans over and kisses my cheek. He has never done this before.
His breath on my face is like a match, sending waves of heat through me in a way that steals away my voice for a short moment. I can’t even think of a witty comeback to his sarcastically sweet statement about my black dress.
It’s a simple thing I designed myself. Basically, I added spaghetti straps to a tube dress covered in tiered layers of silk that move when I walk. As I do with many other designs, I took my inspiration from the flappers of the 20’s. I’m just kind of standing here with my mouth hanging open...again.
“Squeeee!” A girl’s voice trills through the air. I almost jump through the overhang above us. “You came. I’m so excited to have another person my age here tonight,” Adriana gushes as she rushes over to where I stand, hugging me. There’s no way she can be Alek’s little sister. The siblings are like night and day.
Adriana reminds me more of my friends back home than a girl from another country. If it weren’t for her accent then I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.
I allow her to take my hand and lead me inside. I steal a quick glance back at Alek. He shrugs and gives me an innocent face. Inside the house, I go from being consumed by aromas of foxgloves, roses, and evergreens to the smell of some type of seasoned roast.
Two men, a couple, and an older woman with a shocking head of long silvery-blonde hair sit inside the living room. This is the woman who Luca was talking with the entire time I was up on stage at the showing. Dressed in a floor-length gown, she could easily be mistaken as a movie star, or even Rachel Zoe.
“She’s here,” Adriana gushes. “Table’s all set, Mother. I didn’t want you to stress about anything so I took care of everything just before Nikolai arrived.” She’s speaking to the goddess in the silver dress. Of course, this woman would have to be the Katerina Dostov.
“Excellent. I’m certain our star guest is famished,” Katerina says, and glances at Alek who now stands on my left side.
The younger of the two men stands and heads toward me. He reminds me of Luca with his fair complexion and dirty blonde locks. The only difference is that Luca would never let his hair grow long enough for a ponytail.
There’s a sadness swimming in this man’s eyes, making him appear both youthful and wise at the same time. He reaches for my hand and kisses my knuckles. The graceful way he moves rivals any ballerina I’ve ever seen.