Chapter 4 The Transformation

The car that picked us up wasn't just expensive, it was a statement. A sleek black Rolls Royce that probably cost more than most people's houses. I slid across leather seats that felt like butter and tried not to gawk at the built-in bar and entertainment system.

Damien sat across from me, already focused on his phone, typing messages with the kind of intensity that suggested he was running a billion-dollar empire even during a shopping trip. Which, I supposed, he was.

Where exactly are we going? I asked, watching the city blur past through tinted windows.

Bergdorf Goodman first for clothes, then Tiffany and Co for the ring. He didn't look up from his phone. My assistant has already called ahead. They're expecting us.

Of course they were. This was Damien Knight's world, where people rearranged their entire day around his schedule.

I've never been to either of those places, I admitted.

I figured. He finally looked up at me, and I caught something that might have been amusement in his eyes. Don't worry. Just let the personal shopper do her job. Your only task is to look like you belong with me.

And how exactly am I supposed to do that?

He studied me for a moment, those blue eyes taking inventory in a way that made me feel exposed. You're prettier than you think you are, Aria. You just dress like you're trying to disappear. We're going to fix that.

I wasn't sure if that was a compliment or an insult.

The Rolls Royce pulled up in front of Bergdorf Goodman, and I felt my stomach lurch. The building looked more like a palace than a store, with its elegant windows displaying clothes that didn't even have price tags visible.

Marcus appeared at the door before I could even reach for the handle, helping me out with professional courtesy. Damien came around the car and placed his hand on the small of my back, a gesture that looked intimate but felt completely businesslike.

Remember, he murmured as we walked toward the entrance, we're madly in love. Try to look like you don't hate me.

I don't hate you, I said automatically.

Good. Because in about thirty seconds, we're going to be surrounded by people who make their living selling gossip to tabloids.

He was right. The moment we stepped inside, I could feel eyes on us. Staff members trying to look busy while stealing glances, other customers whispering behind designer handbags, and at least one person I was pretty sure was taking pictures with their phone.

Mr. Knight, a woman in an impeccably tailored suit appeared at our side as if by magic. I'm Catherine, your personal shopper for today. And you must be the lovely lady we've heard so much about.

She hadn't heard anything about me, but she was too professional to let that show.

This is my fiancée, Aria, Damien said smoothly, his arm sliding around my waist. She needs a complete wardrobe. Business attire, evening wear, casual pieces. Money is no object.

Catherine's smile became even brighter. Of course. Right this way.

She led us to a private suite on the upper floor, complete with champagne, comfortable seating, and mirrors everywhere. It was like a luxury hotel room designed specifically for trying on clothes.

If you'll have a seat, Mr. Knight, Catherine said, I'll get started with Miss Aria.

Actually, I should get back to the office, Damien said, checking his watch. Aria, take your time. Get whatever you need. Catherine has my card information.

He was leaving me? With strangers? In a store where a single dress probably cost more than my rent?

Damien, I started, panic creeping into my voice.

You'll be fine, he said, and for just a moment, his hand touched my arm in what felt like reassurance. Trust Catherine. She's the best.

And then he was gone, leaving me alone with a woman whose job was to spend his money on clothes for me.

Well then, Catherine said, clapping her hands together. Shall we begin? I'm thinking we start with some foundation pieces and work our way up to evening wear. What's your usual size?

I told her, and she nodded, already making notes on a tablet.

And what sort of events will you be attending?

I have no idea, I admitted. Business things? Charity events?

Excellent. Very versatile wardrobe then. Professional but feminine, elegant but not overdone. You want to look like you belong at his side without overshadowing him.

The next three hours were a blur of silk and cashmere, designer labels I'd only seen in magazines, and prices that made my head spin. Catherine brought me dress after dress, suit after suit, each more beautiful than the last.

Try this, she would say, handing me something that felt like wearing a cloud. Or, This color is perfect with your skin tone. Or, Mr. Knight will love you in this.

Each time I looked in the mirror, I saw a different version of myself. The black cocktail dress that hugged my curves in all the right places. The navy business suit that made me look competent and powerful. The emerald green evening gown that transformed me into someone who belonged at fancy galas.

This is too much, I said as Catherine added another armload of clothes to our growing pile.

Nonsense, she said firmly. You're going to be Mrs. Knight. You need to dress the part. Besides, Mr. Knight was very specific about sparing no expense.

By the time we were finished, I had enough clothes to outfit three different people. Business suits, cocktail dresses, evening gowns, casual wear, shoes, handbags, and accessories I didn't even know existed.

The total, when Catherine discreetly showed it to me, made my vision blur. Eighty-seven thousand dollars. For clothes. I'd just spent more on a single shopping trip than most people made in two years.

Wonderful choices, Catherine said, having everything packaged and sent to an address I assumed was Damien's penthouse. You're going to look absolutely stunning.

I felt like I was in a dream as we left Bergdorf Goodman. Or maybe a nightmare. I couldn't decide which.

The next stop was Tiffany and Co, which somehow managed to be even more intimidating than the clothing store. Everything sparkled under perfect lighting, and the security was obviously high-end.

Damien was waiting for us inside, talking to a distinguished gentleman in an expensive suit.

Aria, he said as I approached. This is Richard, our jewelry consultant. Richard, this is my fiancée.

Richard's smile was professional but warm. Congratulations, Miss Thompson. Mr. Knight has told me a bit about what you're looking for.

What we were looking for, apparently, was an engagement ring that would make a statement. Richard led us to a private room where he began showing us options that took my breath away.

This is a three-carat oval diamond, he said, placing a ring on a black velvet display. Classic, elegant, timeless.

The ring caught the light and threw rainbows around the room. It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

Try it on, Damien said.

I slipped the ring onto my finger, and it fit perfectly. It was substantial but not ostentatious, elegant without being flashy. Exactly what I would have chosen if I were actually marrying someone I loved.

What do you think? Damien asked.

It's beautiful, I said honestly.

We'll take it, he told Richard without even asking the price.

Excellent choice, Richard said. Should I have it sized?

No need, Damien said. It fits perfectly.

As Richard went to prepare the paperwork, Damien moved closer to me. The ring suits you, he said quietly.

How did you know my size?

Lucky guess. He was studying my face with an intensity that made my cheeks warm. Or maybe I'm just good at reading people.

The ring came in a signature blue Tiffany box that somehow made everything feel more real. I was engaged. To a billionaire. With a ring that probably cost more than a car.

When we got back to the car, I couldn't stop looking at the diamond on my finger.

Any regrets? Damien asked, noticing my preoccupation.

About the ring? No, it's beautiful.

About any of it.

I thought about my tiny apartment, my three jobs, the constant worry about money and Mom's medical bills. Then I looked at the ring on my finger and thought about the contract I'd signed that morning.

No regrets, I said.

Good. Because tomorrow we make our first public appearance together. There's a business dinner I need to attend, and you'll be coming with me as my fiancée.

My stomach fluttered with nervousness. What if people don't believe we're really engaged?

They will, he said with complete confidence. Because you're going to wear one of your new dresses, that beautiful ring, and you're going to smile at me like you're the luckiest woman in the world.

And what will you do?

He looked at me with those devastating blue eyes and smiled in a way that made my heart skip a beat.

I'm going to look at you like I can't believe you're mine.

Even though it was all pretend, even though this was just a business arrangement, something about the way he said it made my pulse quicken.

This was going to be more complicated than I thought.

End of Chapter 4