The Beaumont Brothers: Not the Boss's Baby. Sarah M. Anderson
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seeing anyone else.
But she didn’t think he had. He worked too much. She knew. She managed his schedule.
“Now,” Mario went on, draping the necklace around her neck and fastening it, “you may have woken up this morning a frugal...” He tilted his head to the side and looked at her suit, now neatly hanging by the door. “Account executive?”
“Close,” she said. “Executive assistant.”
He snapped his fingers in disappointment, but it didn’t last. “By the time Mario gets done with you, you will be royalty.”
He held his arm out to her, for which she was grateful—those heels were at least two inches higher than her dress shoes. Then he opened the door and they walked out into the sitting room.
Chadwick was reclined in the loveseat, a glass of champagne in one hand. He’d loosened his tie, a small thing that made him look ten times more relaxed than normal.
Then he saw her. His eyes went wide as he sat up straight, nearly spilling his drink. “Serena...wow.”
“And this is just the beginning!” Mario crowed as he led her not to Chadwick but over to the small dais in front of all the mirrors. He helped her up and then guided her in a small turn.
She saw herself in the mirrors. Mario had smoothed her hair out after he’d gotten her suit off her. Her face still looked a little ashen, but otherwise, she couldn’t quite believe that was her.
Royalty, indeed. Chadwick had been right. This dress, just like her black dress at home, made her feel beautiful. And after the day she’d had, that was a gift in itself.
She got turned back around and saw the look Chadwick was giving her. His mouth had fallen open and he was now standing, like he wanted to walk right up to her and sweep her into his arms.
“Now,” Mario said, although it didn’t feel like he was talking to either Serena or Chadwick. “This dress would be perfect for Saturday, but half the crowd will be wearing black and we don’t want Ms. Chase to blend, do we?”
“No,” Chadwick agreed, looking at her like she hadn’t announced half an hour ago that she was pregnant. If anything, he was looking at her like he’d never really seen her before. And he wanted to see a lot more. “No, we don’t want that.”
“Plus, this dress is not terribly forgiving. I think we want to try on something that has more flow, more grace. More...”
“Elegant,” Chadwick said. He seemed to shake back to himself. He backed up to the loveseat and sat again, one leg crossed, appraising her figure again. “Show me what else you’ve got, Mario.”
“With pleasure!”
The next dress was a pale peachy pink number with a huge ball gown skirt and a bow on the back that felt like it was swallowing Serena whole. “A classic style,” Mario announced.
“Too much,” Chadwick replied, with a shake of his hand. She might have been hurt by this casual dismissal, but then he caught her gaze and gave her a smile. “But still beautiful.”
Then came a cornflower blue dress with an Empire waist, tiny pleats that flowed down the length of the gown, and one shoulder strap that was encrusted with jewels. “No necklace,” Mario informed her as he handed her dangling earrings that looked like they were encrusted with real sapphires. “You don’t want to compete with the dress.”
When she came out this time, Chadwick sat up again. “You are...stunning.” There was that look again—like he was hungry. Hungry for her.
She blushed. She wasn’t used to being stunning. She was used to being professional. Her black dress at home was as stunning as she’d ever gotten. She wasn’t sure how she was going to pull off stunning while pregnant. But it didn’t seem to be bothering Chadwick.
“This one has a much more forgiving waistline. She’ll be able to wear it for several more months and it’ll be easier to get back into it.” Mario was talking to Chadwick, but Serena got the feeling that he was really addressing her—greater wearability meant better value.
Although she still wasn’t looking at the price tags.
“I don’t know where else I’d wear it,” she said.
Chadwick didn’t say anything, but he gave her a look that made her shiver in the best way possible.
They went through several dresses that no one particularly loved—Mario kept putting her in black and then announcing that black was too boring for her. She tried on a sunflower yellow that did horrible things to her skin tone. It was so bad, Mario wouldn’t even let her go out to show Chadwick.
She liked the next, a satin dress that was so richly colored it was hard to tell if it was blue or purple. It had an intricate pattern in lace over the bodice that hid everything she didn’t like about her body. That was followed by a dark pink strapless number that reminded her of a bridesmaid gown. Then a blue-and-white off-the-shoulder dress where the colors bled into each other in a way that she thought would be tacky but was actually quite pretty.
“Blue is your color,” Mario told her. She could see he was right.
She didn’t think it was possible, but she was having fun. Playing dress-up, such as it was. High-end dress-up, but still—this was something she’d had precious little of during her childhood. Chadwick was right—she did feel beautiful. She twirled on the dais for him, enjoying the compliments he heaped upon her.
It was almost like...a fairy tale, a rags-to-riches dream come true. How many times had she read some year-old fashion magazine that she’d scavenged from a recycling bin and dreamed about dressing up in the pretty things? She’d thought she’d gotten that herself with her consignment store dress, but that was nothing compared to being styled by the fabulous Mario.
Time passed in a whirl of chiffons and satins. Soon, it was past seven. They’d spent almost four hours in that dressing room. Chadwick had drunk most of a bottle of champagne. At some point, a fruit-and-cheese tray had been brought in. Mario wouldn’t let Serena touch a bite while she was wearing anything, so she wound up standing in the dressing room in her underthings, eating apple slices.
She was tired and hungry. Chadwick’s eyes had begun to glaze over, and even Mario’s boundless energy was seeming to flag.
“Can we be done?” Serena asked, drooping like a wilted flower in a pale green dress.
“Yes,” Chadwick said. “We’ll take the blue, the purple, the blue-and-white and...was there another one that you liked, Serena?”
She goggled at him. Had he just listed three dresses? “How many times do you expect me to change at this thing?”
“I want you to have all options available.”
“One is plenty. The blue one with the single strap.”
Mario looked at Chadwick, who repeated, “All three, please. With all necessary accessories. Have them sent to Serena’s house.”
“Of course, Mr. Beaumont.” He gathered up the gowns in question and hurried from the room.
Still wearing the droopy green dress, Serena kicked out of her towering shoes and stalked over to Chadwick. She put her hands on her hips and gave him her very best glare. “One. One I shouldn’t let you buy me in the first place. I do not need three.”
He had the nerve to look down at her and smile his ruthless smile, the one that let everyone in the room know that negotiations were finished. Suddenly, she was aware that they were alone and she wasn’t wearing her normal suit. “Most women would jump at the chance to have someone buy them nice things, Serena.”
“Well,” she snapped, unable to resist stamping her foot in protest, “I’m not most women.”
“I know.” Then—almost as if he were moving in slow motion, he stood and began taking long strides toward her, his gaze fastened