ate Jane’s casino token, but it was still the start of a great night. From the dud of a slot machine, they moved on to the Bellagio’s famous shopping. Vincent took her into a boutique where the dresses weren’t tagged. Instead, the shop girls set Jane up in a creamy velvet dressing room where Vincent sat outside in an overstuffed wingback chair. They popped a bottle of champagne and brought Jane a steady stream of beautiful clothing.
They’d started with a foundation of light pink lacy underwear that was somewhat embarrassing for her to model in front of the woman who brought them in. But the girl only looked Jane up and down and confirmed that it fit her perfectly. From there, Jane tried on several pairs of jeans and tops ranging from hippy, floaty scraps of fabric to artfully cut out and scooped Lycra shirts that showed off all of her best bits.
Next came a parade of dresses. Pleated maxis that fell to the floor and micro minis made out of bands of stretchy fabric she’d seen people like the real housewives wear. Each outfit came with jewelry and shoes, and Jane adored playing dress up. Vincent, for his part, seemed to be enjoying the event as much as she was. Jane was thankful that this man seemed to find no faults with her body; his eyes roaming her form and taking in his fill every time she stepped out into the private annex attached to her dressing room. Jane was equally as thankful that she didn’t have her wallet on her because there was an especially lovely pencil skirted sheath dress that would be awesome for work. However, Jane was pretty sure even the combination of her entire bank account and life savings may not cover the price of the garment, but with no tag it was hard to tell.
As the bottle of bubbly emptied, the woman brought in one last dress. Vincent had made the request to see her in it. It was a simple silhouette, thin strapped and scoop-necked, with a pencil skirt at the bottom. But the fabric was divine. The shop girl informed her that it was Italian lace, hand painted with real gold paint. The dress fit her like a glove and wore lighter than air despite the thick lacework. Paired with a pair of strappy gold stilettos and large diamond studs Jane looked like one of the pin-ups Vincent drew. She was womanly and beautiful and she’d never felt so good in her life. The shop girl completed the look by pinning up her hair in a loose bun.
When Jane opened the door to Vincent, she thought he might faint. The man had definitely stopped breathing. He had to clear his throat before speaking.
“That dress will do,” Vincent said with a nod to the girl who had been helping her all night. She nodded and moved swiftly off to the register to apparently complete a transaction.
Jane’s eyes widened and she teetered forward on the sky high shoes to stop Vincent. “Oh my God Vincent, you can not buy this for me. Do you know how much this dress costs?! It has real gold on it.” Jane finished by drawing Vincent’s attention to the shimmering bodice of the dress, which only had the effect of making Vincent sure that he’d made the right choice.
“Of course I don’t know how much it costs, there are no tags. I’m sure she’d tell me if I wanted to know, but I don’t care. The thing fits you like it was made for you,” he said taking advantage of her updo to kiss her neck.
Jane hummed her approval and relented. “Well, you couldn’t very well break up soul mates.” Vincent stiffened in response to the comment and Jane wondered what she’d said, but in a flash it was gone and the warm caramel eyes scanned her own before dipping back to her cleavage. Jane laughed. “I don’t think your approval of this dress is based on my attitude alone.”
Vincent smiled like the cat who had got the cream. “I suppose you could say I’ve been less than altruistic. But come,” he said taking Jane’s hand, “I’m not fit to escort you at the moment. My tailor is a few
Sharon Kleve, Jennifer Conner, Danica Winters, Casey Dawes