BRIANNA

Apparently, Isabella had dragged me to a secluded room, far from the main mall. The room was filled with racks of clothing, each variety hanging in neat rows—everything from fancy gowns to casual wear, and all of it designer. I stood there, awestruck, marveling at the sheer variety. The amount of clothes in here could easily start a boutique of its own. That’s how much high-end merchandise was packed into this room.

“So, this is where we’re going to find you the perfect dress for the gala,” Isabella said, spreading her arms to indicate the vast selection.

“I feel like I’ve walked into dress heaven,” I gushed, and Isabella burst into laughter.

“You’re funny,” she giggled, and a grin spread across my face.

“I’m flattered; you’re one of the few people who’ve ever said that to me. Thank you,” I replied with a small smile.

“Don’t sweat it. Now, let’s get started. We can check out the others later,” she said, enthusiasm evident in her voice.

“Alright, what do I need to do?” I asked, eager to get started.

“You don’t have to do anything for now. Just sit on that chair over there.” She pointed to a chair in the corner and added, “I’ll pick out a few dresses for you to try on. Once you’ve got them on, you’ll show them to Adrian, and he’ll decide which one looks best.”

“Oh, okay,” I replied, moving to sit on the chair she had indicated.

“From what I can see, you’ve got the curves—hips, ass, and boobs—so we need a dress that’ll highlight all the right places. Don’t mind my vulgarity,” she added with a chuckle at the end.

“Nah, I don’t mind,” I said, grinning.

“I’ll be right back.” With that, she disappeared behind the racks, leaving me alone in the silence of the room, eagerly waiting for the dresses she would bring.

“So, you and Adrian seem pretty close, huh?” Isabella’s voice rang out from behind the racks.

“Close? In what way?” I asked, speaking loudly enough for her to hear.

“This is the first time he’s brought a lady here to shop for dresses, and I’m pretty sure you’re the first assistant he’s asked to be his date,” Isabella explained.

“Wow, really? Well, if you count him frustrating me and me paying him back as being ‘close,’ then, yeah, we’re close,” I said.

“Oh, so you’re as crazy as he is? And he hasn’t fired you yet? That’s a first,” she remarked, still rummaging through the racks for the perfect dress.

“I’m surprised he hasn’t fired me either, considering the amount of threats I get from him,” I giggled.

“Seems like he likes you. There’s no assistant who’s worked this long for him without getting fired. And considering how crazy you are, you should’ve been out the door on day one,” she laughed.

“Mr. Adrian definitely doesn’t like me. It’s clear he hates me, and I’m not too fond of him either,” I responded.

“I bet he likes you. Just wait, you’ll see,” she said confidently.

“I highly doubt it, but whatever you say,” I chuckled, and a comfortable silence followed.

“Uhm, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s the relationship between you and Mr. Adrian?” I asked, unsure if I was crossing a line.

“What do you mean?” she called out, stepping into view with a pile of red dresses in her hands.

“Well, don’t take this the wrong way, but you two seem pretty cozy together, more than just a professional relationship,” I explained.

“Adrian is my cousin. His mom and mine are sisters,” she answered, casually dumping the clothes on a nearby chair.

I couldn’t believe they were cousins. No wonder they seemed so comfortable with each other. I had totally misread their relationship.

“Wow, I didn’t know that,” I said, smiling sheepishly.

“Wait, what did you think we were?” she asked, clearly puzzled.

“I thought... I kind of thought you were his girlfriend. I’ve never seen him so close with someone before,” I admitted.

“Ugh, no way. I can never be his girlfriend. He’s a big-headed brat,” she shuddered dramatically, and I couldn’t help but giggle.

“Sorry for the wrong assumption.”

“It’s not a problem,” she said, clapping her hands eagerly. “Now, try on these dresses, and we’ll show them to Adrian. He’ll be the judge and pick the one that suits you best.”

“Okay, let’s do this,” I said, standing up as she handed me one of the dresses.

I held it out in front of me, inspecting it. I knew I wasn’t supposed to be the one to judge the dress, but I still wanted to get a good look at it.

The dress was made of chiffon, and it was absolutely gorgeous.

“What are you waiting for? Go change!” Isabella urged, pointing me toward a dressing room. I walked inside, the space empty except for a bench and a mirror.

I stripped off my work clothes, standing in just my underwear for a moment before slipping the dress on. As I examined myself in the mirror, I couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable. The dress revealed too much skin for my liking. My back, breasts, and thighs were all exposed, thanks to a slit that went all the way up my left leg.

I stepped out of the dressing room, feeling self-conscious in my own skin. Isabella’s eyes widened in surprise as I walked out.

“Damn, girl! Is this the shape you’ve been hiding under those work clothes?” She whistled, and I blushed furiously.

“If I were a lesbian, I’d fall for you right now,” she added with a wink, and I couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m going to turn into a tomato, or worse, a beetroot at this rate, Isabella,” I giggled shyly.

“You deserve all the hype, babe,” she said.

“Oh, please, Isa.”

“Do you think Mr. Adrian will like the dress? It feels too revealing to me,” I asked, nervous because Mr. Adrian had specifically warned me not to wear anything too revealing.

“It’s revealing, but not too much. Let’s see what he thinks,” Isabella said, leading me back out into the main area.

We came out to find Mr. Adrian sitting on a posh sofa, reading a magazine. He didn’t seem to notice us at first.

“She’s here, Adrian. Check her dress out,” Isabella announced loudly, and Mr. Adrian slowly looked up from his magazine.

Not to be proud, but I can confidently say his jaw dropped when he saw me. And honestly, saying his jaw dropped was an understatement. His gaze raked over my body from head to toe, making me feel self-conscious and a little squirmy.

“Close your mouth, Adrian. You’ll catch flies,” Isabella teased, and he snapped his mouth shut, a faint blush creeping up his neck. I stifled a giggle, but one managed to escape, making Mr. Adrian glance at me for a brief second before looking away again.

“What are you wearing?” Mr. Adrian asked, clearly flustered now.

“Huh? I’m wearing a dress,” I replied, my tone playful.

“Are you sure that’s a dress? Because it looks more like something a... well, a slut would wear,” he said, his tone flat.

I stared at him, wondering if this was the same man who had been ogling me just moments ago.

“It’s not a slut’s outfit, you idiot!” Isabella interjected, smacking him lightly on the back of the head. “You should’ve picked a more appropriate dress for her. We’re going to a gala, not a club.”

“If you didn’t like the dress, you should’ve told her to change politely,” Isabella added, and Mr. Adrian looked slightly embarrassed before quickly masking it with a cool demeanor.

“I didn’t ‘drool.’ Now, please go get her another dress. This one’s a no-go,” he said in a much softer tone.

Isabella rolled her eyes, grabbed my hand, and led me back to the dressing room.

“Don’t worry about what the brat said. You looked amazing in that dress,” she said, and I smiled.

“Thanks, Isa. I’ve learned not to take Mr. Adrian’s comments too seriously. I know the dress looked perfect on me,” I said as we entered the room again.

“Let’s find something less revealing, but still shows off your curves,” Isabella said, her energy already back to its usual level as we got to work looking for the right dress.