Page 53 of Arranged To Be Mine

“Are you kidding? I live for this stuff.” She linked her arm through mine and steered me toward the door. “Now, tell me about this event. What’s the vibe? What message do you want to send?”

“It’s the Corwin Gems masquerade ball. Elite clientele. Black tie, very formal. Lots of photographers.”

“And you want to look…”

“Warm,” I said. “Passionate. Alive. The opposite of everything people have been saying about me.”

Cleo nodded thoughtfully. “So we’re thinking hot colors. Red, maybe. Orange or gold. Something that says fire instead of ice.”

“Exactly.”

“I know just the place to start.”

The first boutique didn’t have anything quite right. The dresses were beautiful, but nothing felt like me. Too frilly. Too revealing. Too something.

Cleo didn’t seem discouraged. She just guided me to the next store, chatting as we walked.

“So how long have you been running Corwin Gems?” she asked.

“I’ve been working there my whole life, basically. I won’t officially be running it until my father retires in the next couple of months.”

“That’s a long time to be preparing for something.”

“Tell me about it.” I laughed. “And I’m still not sure I’m ready.”

“Running a business is hard.”

“What about you?” I asked. “How did you end up designing wedding gowns?”

Her face lit up. “I’ve always loved fashion, but wedding dresses specifically? That came later. It started as a one-off in college and something just clicked. There’s something magical about helping a bride get her dream gown.”

“That does sound fulfilling.”

“It’s also a ton of work,” she admitted. “Brides can be… particular. But I love it. Even when it’s stressful, I can’t imagine doing anything else.”

We arrived at the second boutique, and Cleo immediately started pulling dresses from the racks. She had an eye for it, selecting options I never would have considered on my own. I wished I had that confidence.

“Try this one,” she said, handing me a crimson gown with a plunging neckline that would definitely require boob tape.

I held it up, skeptical. “This seems very…”

“Bold? That’s the point. You want people to see you and think fire, not ice. This dress screams passion.”

I took it into the fitting room, along with three others she’d selected. The crimson one was first.

When I stepped out to look in the three-way mirror, I barely recognized myself. The dress was tight. The neckline was daring but not inappropriate. The color was unique and bold and nothing like I would have ever dared to try on.

“Oh,” Cleo breathed. “Darcy, that’s stunning.”

I turned, watching myself in the mirror. “You don’t think it’s too much?”

“I think it’s exactly enough. You look powerful. Confident. Like a woman who knows exactly what she wants and isn’t afraid to go after it.”

I stared at my reflection. She was right.

“This is the one,” I said quietly.

“Absolutely.”