Falling for the Heiress (Vatan Valley Book 3) by Mari Mendoza

Author:Mari Mendoza [Mendoza, Mari]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-03-07T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Maigne

Garcia’s escape plan involved bribery and impersonating security personnel. The two guards had been surprisingly cooperative, probably because Garcia had paid them an obscene amount of cash to switch clothes with us, which was how I ended up in a stall in the employees’ restroom putting on these navy blue slacks that were officially the most expensive pair of pants I’d acquired in my life.

This restroom was dimly lit. Its bright fluorescent lights cast a sickly greenish hue on the dingy tiles. I could go off on a tangent on how the state of restroom facilities effectively portrayed one’s social status, but I had a more pertinent albeit privileged problem right now. The buttons on the back of my gown were out of my reach. I twisted and turned, trying to contort my arms to reach them, but to no avail. Unless I somehow detach my arm the only way I was going to be able to put on this shirt was to ask Garcia to help.

Frustrated and embarrassed, I leaned back against the stall wall. I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths before calling out, “Garcia.”

“Yeah?”

I opened the door an inch, mumbling, “I need your help.” I stared at the floor, unable to look at him.

He hesitated for a second before ducking into the stall. My face heated. I whispered the words, “I can’t reach the back of my dress.”

Garcia cleared his throat. “Yeah. I’ll—of course,” he said huskily. I turned so my back was to him. Garcia gingerly started undoing the buttons. “This is a lot.” he said in a low voice. His somber tone said he was concentrating hard on the task. “Who helped you put this on?”

“A stylist,” I rasped out. “Abi brought out the big guns for me today. And she monitored everything through a video call. My hair,” I rambled, pointing to the shiny ornament that secured the intricate knots of my hair. “This thing they tied it with. It came from Greece or something. Abi’s friend makes it and she’s going to help market it. Her following on social media is insane. Companies pay her hundreds for a post. Can you imagine?”

Garcia chuckled. “Yeah.”

“I’m half jealous and eighty percent appalled. Social media gained popularity because of honest reviews from normal people and now I feel like I can’t trust anyone anymore.”

“You’re talking like an old lady who can’t do math and doesn’t know what a tweet is.”

“Hey! Don’t you feel the same? Am I weird?”

“You’ve always been weird,” he whispered, leaning close to me. I felt Garcia’s breath on my skin. The hairs at the back of my neck stood up and I shivered. “I’m halfway done. Around seventy-five more little buttons left.”

“It’s couture,” I said, thinking that if I just continued talking, I wouldn’t grab him, kiss him, and jump him. “Those buttons are all handsewn. From a designer whose name I cannot pronounce.”

“That’s all of them. One hundred and fifty buttons.” Was Garcia’s voice raspier than when we started?

“Thanks,” I whispered.

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