Chapter 28

Adam, Cassie and Eddie waited in Chloë’s lounge. They sat on one of the sofas. The other sofa had been pushed back against a wall, leaving a clear area for Jacques to move around Chloë, take measurements and make adjustments.

“Be honest,” said Chloë from the hallway. “If I look hideous, then say so.”

“We will,” said Cassie. “Promise.”

“Although, of course, you could never look hideous,” said Adam.

“Awww,” said Cassie. “That’s so sweet.”

Eddie leaned back so that Cassie couldn’t see him and winked at Adam. “Good one, mate.”

Chloë swept into the room, Jacques trailing behind fussing. He had a tape measure around his neck and his sleeves rolled up. He looked every inch the stereotypical tailor.

Chloë had already tried on and rejected three dresses. The first was a straight black gown with wide straps and silver edging. Adam had quite liked it. The second was red, tight and Cassie said it made her look like a cheap tart. The third was white and very low cut. Jacques had said Chloë would need some fake tan on her pale skin to pull it off. Eddie had loved the amount of cleavage it showed.

This was the final dress that the French designer had brought with him. If she didn’t like it, she was in trouble. She stood in front of her friends and held her arms out from her sides for their appraisal. “Well?”

Adam’s jaw dropped and he stared at Chloë, lost for words. Cassie gasped and covered her mouth. Eddie said, “Bloody hell. That’s the best one yet. I mean, they’ve all been good, but this one is bloody fantastic.”

Chloë smoothed down the material and said, “Really? You don’t think it’s a bit to close-fitting? It doesn’t make me look fat?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Cassie. “There’s not an ounce of fat on you. I think it’s spectacular.”

“Eet ees,” said Jacques. Even though he’d been living and working in London for nearly twenty years, his French accent was very thick. Adam was convinced that he exaggerated it to enhance his image. “Zis ees my favourite. C’est une robe du sirène.”

“A mermaid dress?” said Cassie.

“Oui. Oui. Eet ees made from only zee very finest of Charmeuse Silk. Regarde ‘ow zee fabric ‘ugs ‘er body all zee way down to ‘er knees.”

“Adam? What do you think? You don’t like it? Do you?”

Adam was still staring, only now he was thinking how wrong Chloë was. He loved the dress. It was pale gold with the three spaghetti-straps on either shoulder that plunged to a deep V-neck.

“You can see my bra,” she said.

“Ees not being a problem,” said Jacques. “I ‘ave a bra zat is being perfect for zees robe in my shop.”

The shimmering silk fitted tightly, but not quite exactly, to her curves, then flared out from the knee to form a short, dignified train.

“Eet will need to be adjusted a little,” said Jacques. “I am thinking you are eating very well, and so made the robes bigger zan usually, non? But I am being wrong. When eet ees ready, zere will not be any of zee wrikles and creases you see now. Chloë, my sweet, I am making a promise zat if you are choosing zis dress—I will have eet fitting you perfectly. You will be zee belle of le tapis rouge.”

“Adam? You still haven’t told me what you think.” Chloë’s tone and eyes sought his approval.

“I ... I can’t...” He shook his head.

“Can’t what? I knew you didn’t like it.”

“I can’t begin to describe how magnificent you look. My Rose truly is in bloom. Nikki Mount is going to be so jealous when she sees you.”

Chloë beamed. “This is the one, Jacques. This is the one.” She flung her arms around his neck and kissed him on each cheek. “Thank you for designing such a wonderful dress. Thank you. Thank You. Thank you.”

“Chloë. Eet ees being my honour to finally be ‘aveing a dress on le tapis rouge in ‘Ollywood. I am ‘oping zis will not be zee first and only time you honour me in zee way and zat we are seeing you winning all zee awards you deserve.