Chapter 63
Chapter 63:
The manager turned on a dime. “Mr. Douglas, Ms. Schneider — you need to leave. Immediately p>
“You can’t be serious!” Aspen shrieked. “Do you know how much money we spend here p>
“I don’t care,” the manager said, desperate to save his job. He signaled to the store security guard. “Escort them out p>
The guard — a burly man who knew who signed the ultimate paycheck — moved toward Kieran.
“Don’t touch me,” Kieran spat. He looked at Gaston with pure hatred. “You think you can buy everything p>
“I don’t think,” Gaston said coolly. “I do p>
Kieran grabbed Aspen’s hand and dragged her toward the door. As he passed Jocelyn, he paused.
𝖳𝗿e𝗻𝘥i𝗻𝗀 nоvе𝘭𝘴 о𝗻
“He’s buying you too, Jocelyn,” Kieran whispered. “Don’t forget that p>
Gaston took a step forward. Kieran flinched before hurrying out the door.
Silence descended on the store.
“Mr. Collins,” the manager began, wiping sweat from his upper lip. “I had no idea p>
Gaston ignored him, turning instead to his lawyer. “Liam, call the CEO of Winston. Inform him he needs a new manager for his Fifth Avenue location. And that his lease is under review p>
He turned to the sales associate who was holding the watch. “Wrap it up p>
Jocelyn looked at him. Her heart was pounding — not from fear anymore, but from the sheer, overwhelming force of him.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she whispered.
“He disrespected you,” Gaston said, his jaw tight. “He’s lucky that’s all I did p>
He took the bag from the associate and handed it to Jocelyn. His fingers brushed hers. Electric current.
“Come on,” he said, his voice softening. “I have another stop to make p>
“Where p>
“You need a dress. For the wedding p>
The car stopped in front of a townhouse in the West Village with no signage — just a black door and a camera.
“A private atelier?” Jocelyn guessed as they stepped onto the sidewalk.
“Better,” Gaston said. “Jerry p>
He rang the bell. The door swung open instantly. A tall, slender man with silver hair and a silk scarf draped over his neck stood there.
“Gaston!” Jerry exclaimed, his voice theatrical. “You finally brought her p>
Jerry pulled Jocelyn into a hug before she could introduce herself. “Darling, the photos don’t do you justice. Your bone structure is divine. We’re going to make you a goddess p>
“Jerry is the best couturier in the city,” Gaston explained, leaning against the doorframe. “He doesn’t do fashion weeks. He does… specific requests p>
“And Gaston has been very specific,” Jerry said with a wink. He grabbed Jocelyn’s hand. “Come, come. To the fitting room p>
The back of the studio was a white-walled sanctuary of silk and tulle.
“Arms up,” Jerry commanded, wielding a tape measure like a weapon. He began measuring her bust, his hands moving quickly and professionally but invading her personal space. “Hmm. Tiny waist. We need to accentuate that p>
Gaston watched from a velvet armchair, legs crossed, expression unreadable. But Jocelyn could feel his eyes on her. It felt like a physical touch.