Amelia.
With barely a day to the gala, Nathaniel had insisted I needed to see a stylist to pick a dress. But the moment the car pulled in front of the celebrity boutique that afternoon, I was already regretting agreeing to this.
The building itself looked intimidating.
Elegant mannequins dressed in evening gowns that probably cost more than everything I had ever owned, before I met Natheniel of course.
Many top celebrities moved through the boutique like they were stopping for coffee at Starbucks.
I stared at it for a second too long before quietly admitting, “I think I’m underdressed just standing outside.”
Nathaniel glanced toward me from beside the car door.
Then, unexpectedly, he smiled.
Not the controlled public smile the media usually captured.
A real one.
Warm enough to s
