Chapter 462
Chapter 462:
Unless, of course, you were Skye Sterling.
Skye stood on the plush pedestal in the VIP fitting room, surrounded by three mirrors that reflected her silhouette from every angle. The dress she wore was Harper Quinn’s creation, the midnight black silk she had commissioned for the engagement party. But today, she was trying on a white gown for the wedding that would follow.
It was ethereal. Layers of soft silk tulle floated around her like mist. The bodice was structured yet delicate, encrusted with tiny pearls that caught the light. It moved when she moved. It breathed when she breathed.
Alistair sat on a velvet chaise lounge a few feet away. He had a magazine open in his lap, but he hadn’t turned a page in ten minutes. His eyes were fixed on her.
“It is…” Alistair started, his voice rough. “Dangerous p>
“Dangerous?” Skye asked, studying herself in the mirror. “It feels like a cloud p>
“Exactly,” Alistair said, standing. “It makes you look like an angel. And I know for a fact you are not an angel p>
He walked up to the pedestal and placed his hands on her waist, his thumbs resting against the silk.
“You are a siren,” he whispered.
Before Skye could respond, the bell at the front entrance chimed. It was not a polite ding. It was an aggressive, impatient clanging, as if someone were trying to break the door down.
Voices drifted from the foyer. Loud, demanding voices.
“I don’t care if you have an appointment!” a woman screeched. “Do you know who I am? I am the future Mrs. Kensington p>
Skye’s eyes met Alistair’s in the mirror. A look of pure amusement passed between them.
“Speak of the devil,” Skye murmured.
The curtain to the VIP area was ripped open.
Sienna Quinn marched in. She looked like a wreck. Despite the heavy layer of foundation, dark circles bruised the skin under her eyes, and her hair was frizzy, as if she hadn’t slept in days. She had been released on bail only hours ago, her assets frozen, her reputation in tatters after being arrested for embezzlement in front of the entire company.
Behind her trailed her mother, Beatrice Kensington. Beatrice looked equally haggard, clutching her purse as if afraid someone would snatch it. She had just emptied a significant portion of the Kensington liquidity to pay Sienna’s bail, and the strain was etched into the deep lines around her mouth. The shop assistants looked terrified. They fluttered around Sienna like nervous birds.
“Ms. Quinn, please, this is a private fitting—” the manager tried to intervene.
𝘐𝘯st𝘢𝘯𝘁 ас𝗰eѕ𝘀 о𝘯 𝗯𝗲𝗹n𝘰v𝘦𝘭ѕ.𝗰𝗼𝘮
Sienna ignored her. She took off her sunglasses and glared at Skye.
Her eyes widened when she saw the dress. Pure, unadulterated jealousy flashed across her face. Sienna had been trying to secure a custom gown from L’Éclat for weeks, but they had “regretfully declined” her request due to scheduling.
Yet here was Skye, standing in a masterpiece.
“I want that,” Sienna announced, pointing a manicured finger at Skye. Her voice was desperate, bordering on hysterical. She needed to look perfect tomorrow. She needed the world to forget the mugshot circulating online.
Skye turned slowly on the pedestal. She looked down at Sienna with a benign, pitying smile.
“Hello, Sienna. Beatrice. Enjoying your freedom? I heard the holding cells are drafty this time of year p>
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Sienna spat, her hands trembling slightly. She turned to the lead designer, a terrified French woman named Madame Claire. “I want this design. But better. More expensive. More crystals p>
Madame Claire looked affronted. “Mademoiselle, this is a custom piece for Ms. Sterling. It is one of a kind. We cannot replicate it p>
Beatrice stepped forward. She threw a black credit card onto a side table. It landed with a heavy thwack.
“The Kensington estate can pay double whatever she paid,” Beatrice sneered, though her voice wavered. She hated spending this money. Every dollar was bleeding them dry, but they had no choice. They had to maintain the illusion of wealth to secure the merger. “Triple. My son’s fiancée deserves the best. Not this… trash p>