CHAPTER FOUR: THE DRESS
1650 Words
Lorellai
The dresses arrive at noon in garment bags so pristine they look untouched by human hands.
Twelve of them. Hanging in my tiny apartment like a fantasy.
I open the first bag.
Midnight blue silk. Back cut so low it might as well not exist.
Second: black velvet. Structured. Elegant.
Third: emerald green.
I stop.
This one's different.
The fabric catches light like water, shifting between dark forest and bright jade. Neckline is modest. Almost conservative.
But the back is open to the base of my spine, held together by a single delicate chain.
I hang it in the bathroom. Stare at it while I shower.
*Wear the green one.*
At 5:30 PM I'm standing in front of my mirror barely recognizing myself.
The dress fits like it was made for me.
Because it probably was.
My hair's down—no time for anything fancy. Minimal makeup.
I don't look like myself.
I look like someone who belongs at a gala.
The car arrives at 5:55 PM.
Not a car. A town car. With a driver who doesn't blink when I nearly trip getting in.
Fifteen minutes to Summit Tower. Long enough for my nerves to spike from manageable to catastrophic.
What am I doing?
This is insane.
The lobby is all glass and marble. Everything echoes.
A woman in a sharp suit approaches.
"Ms. Kismet?"
"Yes?"
"Mr. Riggins is waiting. This way."
She leads me to a private elevator. Scans a keycard.
We go up.
And up.
When the doors open, I'm not in a hallway.
I'm in an apartment.
No—a penthouse.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. Furniture that belongs in museums. Art that might be worth more than my life.
And standing by the windows is Aspen.
In a tuxedo.
Of course.
He turns when I step out.
Goes very still.
"You wore the green one."
"You told me to."
"I didn't think you'd listen."
"I'm full of surprises."
He crosses the space between us. Slowly.
Stops a foot away. Close enough I have to tilt my head back.
"You look—" He stops. Shakes his head. "Never mind."
"What?"
"If I finish that sentence, we'll be late."
Heat crawls up my spine.
"We should go."
"We should."
Neither of us moves.
His phone buzzes. The spell breaks.
He checks it. Curses softly. "Car's downstairs."
"I just got here."
"Different car. For the gala."
Right.
He offers his arm. I take it.
The elevator ride down is silent. But I'm aware of everywhere we're touching. His arm under my hand. The sleeve of his jacket. The heat of him through fabric.
The second car is waiting. Another driver. Another door held open.
Aspen slides in after me.
The door closes.
We're alone.
Sort of.
"Nervous?" he asks.
"Should I be?"
"Probably."
"That's not reassuring."
"I'm not trying to reassure you."
"Then what are you trying to do?"
He looks at me. Really looks.
"I'm trying to figure out if this was a mistake."
My stomach drops. "Having second thoughts?"
"No. You?"
"Every single one."
He almost smiles. "Good."
"How is that good?"
"Because if you weren't nervous, you wouldn't care. And I need you to care."
"Why?"
"Because they'll know if you don't."
"Who's they?"
"Everyone."
The gala is at the Ashford Estate. I know because there are signs. Cameras. A red carpet.
An actual red carpet.
"Oh god," I whisper.
Aspen squeezes my hand. I didn't realize he was holding it.
"Breathe."
"There are cameras."
"There are always cameras."
"I didn't agree to cameras."
"You agreed to public appearances. This is what that means."
The car stops.
I'm going to be sick.
"Lorellai." His voice cuts through the panic. "Look at me."
I do.
"You're going to walk out of this car with your head up. You're going to smile. You're going to take my arm. And you're going to let them wonder who the hell you are."
"I don't know who the hell I am."
"Then decide. Right now."
The door opens.
Lights. Voices. Cameras clicking.
Aspen steps out first. Offers me his hand.
I take it.
And step into the rest of my life.
I don't know how to do this.
The Ashford Estate is obscene. Marble floors. Crystal chandeliers. A staircase from a fairy tale.
And people. So many people.
All of them beautiful. Polished. Dripping in wealth.
I feel like an imposter.
"Stay close," Aspen says.
Like I have a choice.
We're immediately swarmed.
"Aspen! Good to see you."
"Riggins, introduce us."
"Is this the surprise you mentioned?"
He navigates it all with ease. Shaking hands. Making introductions. Smiling in that way that doesn't quite reach his eyes.
And I just follow.
Smile when expected. Nod when appropriate. Let him answer the questions I don't know how to.
Until a woman approaches who makes everyone else look like amateurs.
She's tall. Stunning. With bone structure that makes you think of Greek statues and old money.
And she's looking at me like I'm something she stepped in.
"Aspen." Her voice is smooth. Cold.
"Verity." His tone matches hers.
Oh.
This is Verity Ashford.
The woman his mother wants him to marry.
"I didn't realize you were bringing a date."
"Last-minute decision."
"How... spontaneous of you."
The temperature drops ten degrees.
"Verity, this is Lorellai Kismet. Lorellai, Verity Ashford."
I extend my hand. "Nice to meet you."
She looks at it like it's foreign. Then slowly shakes it.
Her grip is firm. Territorial.
"Kismet," she repeats. "Interesting name. What do you do, Lorellai?"
Translation: *Who the hell are you to be here with him?*
"I'm a veterinarian."
"How... practical."
Aspen's hand finds my waist. Pulls me closer.
"Lorellai is brilliant. Top of her class."
It's a lie. I graduated middle of the pack.
But the way he says it—with absolute conviction—makes me want to believe it.
Verity's smile sharpens. "I'm sure she is. Though I'm surprised you're dating a human, Aspen. That's very... progressive of you."
"I'm full of surprises."
"Clearly."
The tension is suffocating.
Then someone calls Verity's name. She excuses herself with a smile that doesn't reach her eyes.
The moment she's gone, I exhale.
"That was—"
"Expected."
"She hates me."
"She hates the idea of you."
"What's the difference?"
"Intent."
He steers me toward the bar. Orders two drinks. Hands me one.
I take a long sip. Champagne. Expensive champagne.
"How many more of those do I have to endure?"
"Depends. How long do you want to stay?"
"How long do I have to?"
"Two hours. Minimum."
I groan.
He almost smiles. "You're doing fine."
"I feel like I'm drowning."
"You're not. You're swimming."
"I don't know how to swim in this world, Aspen."
"Then let me teach you."
A man approaches. Older. Distinguished. Wearing a tuxedo that probably costs more than my car.
"Aspen. Good to see you."
They shake hands.
"Senator Ashford. You know Lorellai Kismet?"
The senator looks at me. Studies me.
"I don't believe I've had the pleasure."
I shake his hand. Try not to think about the fact that this man could probably ruin my life with a phone call.
"Ms. Kismet is my partner," Aspen says.
There's that word again. Partner.
The senator raises an eyebrow. "How... unexpected. And refreshing. It's nice to see you branching out, Aspen."
"I like to keep people guessing."
"Clearly." The senator turns to me. "What do you do, Ms. Kismet?"
"I'm a veterinarian."
"Fascinating. And how did you two meet?"
I glance at Aspen. We didn't discuss this.
"Coffee shop," he says smoothly. "She made the best cup of coffee I've ever had. I kept coming back."
Close enough to the truth that it doesn't feel like a lie.
The senator chuckles. "Well, that's certainly a modern love story."
Love story. Right.
He excuses himself. Moves on to the next conversation.
I drain my champagne.
"You need another."
"I need ten."
He signals the bartender. Gets me another glass.
"You're doing well."
"I'm faking it."
"Everyone here is faking it. You just do it more honestly."
The next two hours blur.
More introductions. More small talk. More people looking at me like I'm a curiosity they can't figure out.
But Aspen never leaves my side.
His hand stays at my back. Or my waist. Or holding mine.
Always touching. Anchoring.
And I realize—this is part of it. The performance.
We're selling the idea of us. Of a partnership. Of something real.
Even though it's not.
Or is it?
By the time we leave, my feet are killing me and my face hurts from smiling.
But I survived.
The car ride back is quiet.
Aspen loosens his tie. Runs a hand through his hair.
"You did well tonight."
"I didn't throw up. That's something."
"You were perfect."
I look at him. "I wasn't."
"You were real. That's better than perfect."
The car pulls up to Summit Tower.
We get out. Take the elevator up.
When the doors open to the penthouse, reality hits.
I'm going to live here.
With him.
For a year.
"I'll show you to your wing."
He leads me down a hallway. Opens a door.
And I step into a space bigger than my entire apartment.
Bedroom. Sitting area. Walk-in closet. Bathroom with a tub the size of a small pool.
"This is..." I trail off.
"Yours."
I turn to look at him. He's standing in the doorway. Not coming in.
Respecting the boundary.
"Thank you. For tonight. For this."
"You don't have to thank me, Lorellai."
"Yes, I do."
We stare at each other.
Then he nods. Steps back.
"Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
He closes the door.
And I'm alone.
I sink onto the bed. Kick off the heels. Stare at the ceiling.
What have I gotten myself into?
My phone buzzes.
A text from Aspen.
*The green dress was the right choice. Sleep well. —A*
- Writer
