Free Annihilate Me (Vol. 3) (The Annihilate Me Series) by Christina Ross

nothing if not a
professional.   He gave me a kiss on
each cheek and shook hands with Tank.   He told me that he and Blackwell had discussed what kind of event I was
about to attend, and then he took me to our mock dressing room, where he showed
me the dress Blackwell had suggested I wear.
    It was bright red, plunging neckline,
sleeveless, a wide band beneath the breast, pleated from the waist to the
floor.   It was beautiful, but I had
obvious reservations.
    “I cut my arm the other night.   It’s kind of ugly.   I don’t think anybody wants to look at
that.”
    Bernie removed from a hanger a dramatic
red cape that seemed almost weightless.   It was longer than the dress and it clasped at the throat.   Together with the dress, the lot of it
was stunning, by far my favorite since the Gatsby dress.   I was tall enough to pull it off, but
could I pull it off?   It was
almost like a stage costume.
    “My dear, with that cape, they won’t being
seeing anything other than a red exclamation point in the room.   This will make you the star of the
evening.   I can promise you
that.   It’s Giambattista Valli
Couture.   Nobody will be in
anything like it tonight because this is next year’s collection.   It is on the cover of the fall edition
of Vogue —the one on newsstands now—but no one can get it yet
because it’s not available to the public.   Well, most can’t get it.   Tonight, you’re the prized exception.   You’re going to be wearing the dress every woman of fashion
has lusted over since that magazine hit the stands two weeks ago.   The right women—which will be
most of the women Peachy invited—will recognize it on sight.   You’ll be fashion forward in ways that
will strike envy and likely ire, but only with the women.   The men will trip over themselves to
get a look at you.”
    “No pressure there.   How did you get it?”
    “Ms. Blackwell got it.”
    “How did she get it?”
    “Spells.   Voodoo.”
    “Seriously.”
    “Does it matter?   Now, get dressed.   Undergarments are on the table.   Shoes are over here.   Tank
and I will be out there.   And then
we’ll see how it all comes together when you’re ready for your hair and
makeup.   I’m thinking of doing
something loose with your hair tonight.   Smokey eye.   Lips the exact
color of the dress.   Very simple
jewelry—just a diamond bracelet and studs at your ears.   Nothing should detract from the
dress.   Henri Dufort is no
fool—he’ll see straight through this.   But a confident, beautiful woman who has the sort of
intelligence that can stand up to this kind of a dress also isn’t a fool.   That would be you.   You’ll impress him on all levels.   And in doing so, you’ll smooth the way
for Alex to seal the deal between Dufort and him.”

 
 
    *   *   *

 
 
    Later, after Bernie finished blowing out
my hair and putting the final touches on my makeup, I stared at a person I
didn’t recognize in the mirror.   I
stood up with an effort because my hip was so sore from sitting, let Bernie put
the cape around my neck, and then turned to him and Tank.
    “Well?”
    “Well, indeed,” Bernie said.   “I hope a doctor’s in the house.”
    “Tank?”
    He was looking at me as if I was
otherworldly.   “Keep your phone on
the ready to dial 911.   Bernie’s
not joking.   No one is going to
come close to this, Ms. Kent.”
    “I might trip over the cape,” I said.   “It’s so long.”
    “Here’s what you do,” Bernie said.   “You use your arms to lift it up and
pull it close to you when you walk.   See.   Try that.   Right?   Not difficult at all.   If you want to be dramatic, and only if you have the room to do so, let
your arms out a bit and the cape will flutter— flutter! —behind you.   But here’s a warning—beware of other people who might
‘accidentally’ step on it.   Try not
to move around too much, or it could lead to disaster.   As much as you can, just