The Dress He Chose
“Pull harder.”
The woman behind me hesitated. “I don’t want to tear it.”
“If it tears, tell Mr. Voss he can add the cost of a new dress to my father’s debt.”
Her fingers tightened around the zipper, and the black silk finally slid into place. I stared at myself in the mirror, trying to understand how a dress could make me look like someone who belonged in a house where a single chandelier probably cost more than everything my family owned.
The dress fit me perfectly. Too perfectly.
I ran my fingers along the inside seam and found my initials stitched there.
L.W.
My stomach tightened. I had never given Rafael Voss my measurements.
“Who chose this?”
The woman lowered her eyes. “Mr. Voss.”
Of course he did.
The billionaire had bought my father's debt, taken control of my family's remaining assets, and somehow decided that meant he could choose what I wore.
I turned away from the mirror. “Tell him I don't need expensive clothes.”
She looked genuinely frightened by the idea of carrying that message.
Before she could answer, the bedroom door opened.
Rafael Voss walked in.
I had seen photographs of him before today, but they hadn't prepared me for the reality of him. He was taller than I expected, dressed in a dark suit with no tie, his black hair slightly disordered as if he'd run his fingers through it one too many times. His face was hard in a way that made handsome almost feel like the wrong word, but it was his eyes that held me.
Gray.
Cold.
Fixed completely on me.
His gaze moved slowly from my face to the dress and back again. Something changed in his expression, so slight I might have imagined it if I hadn't been watching him so carefully.
“You're late,” he said.
I glanced at the clock. “You sent someone to dress me.”
“And?”
“And apparently she works slower than you expected.”
His jaw tightened. The woman behind me suddenly found the floor fascinating.
Rafael looked at her. “Leave.”
She hurried past him, and the door clicked shut.
Now it was just the two of us.
I folded my arms across my chest. “Did you choose the dress?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you're attending dinner with me.”
“That doesn't answer my question.”
His eyes narrowed slightly.
I had expected cruelty from him, maybe even humiliation. What I hadn't expected was the strange stillness that came whenever he looked at me, as if he were constantly measuring the distance between what he had expected and what was standing in front of him.
“You're here because of your father,” he said.
“I know.”
“You should remember that.”
“I haven't forgotten.”
He stepped closer. I forced myself not to move.
“You signed the agreement,” he said quietly. “Your father's remaining debt is now mine. Your brother's tuition is covered. Your house stays protected from foreclosure. In exchange, you will live here and follow my terms.”
I swallowed. Hearing it from his mouth made the contract feel less like paper and more like a chain.
“You make it sound very noble.”
“It isn't.”
“At least you're honest.”
“I have no reason to lie to you.”
I laughed softly. “That's probably the first lie you've told me.”
His expression hardened.
I should have stopped. Instead, I said, “Men like you always lie when they say they don't.”
Something flickered in his eyes.
Interest.
It disappeared almost immediately.
“You should be careful, Lena.”
“With what?”
“Assuming you know me.”
“I don't have to know you to know you're enjoying this.”
His face went completely still.
“This?”
“Having power over me.”
For the first time, he looked away. Only for a second, but I saw it, and suddenly I wondered what I'd touched.
He turned back toward me. “You think I enjoy this?”
“I think you wouldn't have bought the debt if you didn't.”
“I didn't buy you.”
“No?”
“No.” His voice dropped. “I bought what your father owed me.”
The words should have made me feel better.
They didn't.
Because his eyes were still on my face, and there was something in them that had nothing to do with money, something I didn't want to name.
He walked toward the door, then stopped.
“Dinner is at eight.”
“I'll be there.”
“Wear the dress.”
I looked down at myself. “And if I don't?”
He turned his head.
For one dangerous second, neither of us spoke.
Then his mouth curved, not quite a smile.
“Then I'll come back and convince you.”
My heart gave one hard, humiliating beat.
I hated it. I hated him for noticing.
His eyes dropped briefly to my mouth before returning to mine, and that tiny movement changed the entire room.
Rafael opened the door.
“Eight o'clock, Lena.”
Then he left.
I waited until his footsteps disappeared before releasing the breath I'd been holding. My fingers touched my lips, and I immediately pulled my hand away.
“No.”
I said it to the empty room.
“No, absolutely not.”
I wasn't going to be attracted to the man who had bought my father's debt. I wasn't going to care that he was handsome, wonder what his mouth would feel like against mine, or forget why I was here.
I walked back to the mirror.
The black silk hugged my body like it had been made specifically for me.
Then I noticed something sewn beneath the collar.
A tiny silver thread.
I pulled at it.
A folded piece of paper slipped free.
My heart stopped.
I opened it.
There were only four words.
He chose you for a reason.
