Chapter 4: The Dress Shop

I showed Declan the text at two in the morning, with my face pressed to his chest.

He read it twice and set my phone on the nightstand.

"Terrence," he said.

"He knows I'm from an agency."

"He knows what I let him know." He pulled the sheet over my shoulder. "I'm the one who signed the contract. Let him print it."

"If he prints it, you lose the vote."

"If he prints it, I tell the board I hired a woman I couldn't stop kissing."

"That isn't a defense."

"It's the truth," he said. "I'm a lousy liar and a fine CEO. Go to sleep."

I didn't sleep.

But I stopped shaking.

On Monday afternoon, a magazine photographer was booked for a spread called "The CEO at Home."

Declan's assistant said the spread needed new clothes for me.

I said I'd pick my own.

So we went to a boutique on Walnut Street with a chandelier and a saleswoman in a black sheath.

She looked me over once, fast.

"We carry up to a size 14," she said, "but I can see what we can do. Black is very slimming."

I opened my mouth.

"She's not looking to be slimmer," Declan said, in the voice he used on the board. "She's looking for a dress. In her size. In any color she wants."

The saleswoman blinked.

"I can call another location," she said, "for the plus selection."

"Please do," he said. "Send everything to this address. We'll wait."

We waited on a velvet couch for twenty minutes, with champagne.