Style (Dressing a Billionaire Book 2): A Romantic Comedy (7 page)

“Okay, that’s a start.” He walked me to a rack of short-sleeved shirts.

“We’re from Dallas, and it’s hot there right now. I mean not as hot as this place, but hot enough,” I offered.

He pulled several shirts from the clothing rod and placed them on a couch. All poplin shirts in a variety of geometric prints. Then he grabbed half a dozen pairs of jeans in various colors and a polo shirt. “We don’t carry shorts this time of year. We’re moving into our Fall/Winter line.”

I didn’t even care. This store rocked with its casual vibe, rich fabrics, and even richer prices. I tried not to look at the tags, because it didn’t matter, but the polos started at $275. “I love the patterns.”

He’d spread out short-sleeved button front shirts in lightweight fabrics. Plaid, solids, mosaics, and polka dots.

“You said he liked graphic tees, so I think this is still original, but a step up. And the jeans and shorts aren’t your typical denim.”

By the time he finished bringing me selections, the couch he’d placed them was barely visible.

I stepped up and arranged the shirts with the pants I liked, then rearranged them.

“Oh, I like that combination,” he said, and pulled out his cell phone to take a picture. “I may put that on a mannequin.”

I did a mental fist pump. Yes, I still had my touch. I could dress a man. Hell, Derek had been happy. Maybe I could get Hugo into a more stylish look after all.

“What’s your best-selling shoe?” I asked.

He walked me to the shoes and picked up a loafer. A loafer, go figure.

“Suede. And available in an array of colors. Dark chocolate is a bestseller.” Then he looked down at his feet. “And these driving shoes are quite comfortable.”

“I noticed them when you walked up. Unique, and yet stylish,
and
they’d go well with most of the outfits I put together.”

I smiled.

“I know it’s summer, but I really like your sweater, too. What other colors is that available in?” I reached out and stroked his arm. Yummy cashmere.

He walked me to the shelf with the sweaters. “We’ve got it in lavender-blue, orange, yellow, purple, and green.”

He made the colors sound like children’s finger paint colors, but they melted me with their soft fall hues. “I’ll take one of each color.”

I gave him Hugo’s sizes and pointed out what I wanted. I’d been in there an hour, and he’d worked with me as if I’d been the only customer he had. Which I definitely wasn’t. We even looked at three different tuxedo jackets.

“Do you have a tailor on staff?” I asked.

He didn’t miss a beat. “Of course.”

“If you can hold these, I’ll be back with Hugo, so he can try them on. I’m not buying all of this only to have to bring it back.”

“When do you think you’ll come back?” he asked.

“He’s sleeping right now, so hopefully we’ll be back before five.” I sort of said the last part as a question. I had no idea when I’d get him out of the room.

“Where are you staying?”

“Aria,” I said.

“Would you like them delivered for him to try on in his room?”

Sure he was pulling my leg, I said, “Can you do that with two sizes of each of what I picked out? I can put a deposit, or pay in full, if necessary.”

He waved me off. “I’ll deliver them myself.”

I mentally told the prissy pale man at CD to fuck off.

“You’re a gem. I wish all of the other stores I visited were this accommodating.”

“I’m the manager, Miss, so I’d be honored to do what it takes to make your client happy.”

Not to mention, you’ll have a nice dinner on the commission, I thought, but then felt bad, because he’d been so incredibly nice.

And I suddenly fell in love with another man: this wonderful store manager with the mocha skin and the black hair. And who probably had a sexy name like Alejandro, Antonio, or Fernando.

I gave him my room number and my cell phone number. “Around four?”

“I’ll make it happen.” He walked me out of the store. “I look forward to seeing Hugo in these.”

With that satisfaction. I took myself out for a cappuccino. I sat on the terrace of the café and watched the throngs of people walk by. I wanted to tell the CD guy he was an asshole, and that I’d found a store that wanted my money. Instead, maybe I’d waltz right in there and mess with the guy.

“May I…oh, you again.” The disdain in his voice palpable.

I pulled out Hugo’s Centurion card and said, “Do you take American Express?”

He nodded. His eyes wide.

I pulled down a dress and looked at the tag, “This dress, $5000.” I picked up a pair of men’s shoes, “These shoes, $2500.” I walked to the menswear. “This shirt, $1200.” Then I turned on him. “The look on your face when I pulled out my Amex card? Simply priceless.” I turned on my heel and muttered under my breath as I walked out the door, “Fucking priceless.”

Until I walked into that store, I’d thought the
Pretty Woman
scenario had been “made for the movies.” Now I knew. People worked in stores where they couldn’t even afford the merchandise and still look down their noses at people of their own class. What a pity.

I
knocked lightly
on Hugo’s hotel door. I’d been back at the hotel for a few hours, but I’d treated myself to a massage, manicure, and pedicure. Oh, and just in case I got lucky at something other than the slots or poker tables, I got a wax, and I’m not talking about my upper lip, though I did have that waxed, too. When I was finished, I had nothing left but a landing strip.

I didn’t want to wake him up. But after the pampering, I couldn’t wait any longer. If I had the guts, I’d have stood outside his door in nothing but a tie, but that’s so cliché.

He opened the door, still dressed as he’d been that morning.

“Hey, I got a massage and stuff from the spa and put it on the room. Let me know what it comes to and I’ll pay you back.” I pushed by him and into the room.

His room looked much like mine. Elegant and modern. The white carpet and walls the same, but different artwork.

“You don’t have to repay me. It’s all on me. I’m just glad you agreed to get away with me.” He followed me as I walked in and sat down on the brown leather sofa.

“What are friends for?” I mused. “Our rooms look very similar,” I said. I got up and walked into the bedroom.

The bed looked like mine, but without a headboard, and different colored pillows on the bed.

“So,” I said. “You’ve been up for a while?”

“Actually, I got up when you knocked.”

“Where’d you sleep?”

“I fell asleep on the couch.”

The couch looked comfy, but not that comfy.

“What time do you want to try on clothes?” I swept through the room and into the bathroom.

Similar white marble floors, heated. An oversized tub and a heated towel rack.

“Let me shower, and I’ll be ready to go in thirty?” He sounded perplexed. “Is everything okay?”

I turned to look at him. “Just checking out the room.”
Wanting to be sure you’re alone
, I almost added.

“Are you sure?”

I pulled a Hugo and leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m sure. I’ll call and let the store know you’ll be ready in thirty. They’re delivering my picks to the room.”

“Oh, Maisy darling, that’s going to be such a hassle to return them. We can go back to the store.” He walked over to the shower and turned on the water.

“Fine. I’ll wait for you and call the store to let them know we’re on our way.”

I waited for him to drop his boxers in front of me, but he didn’t move. Finally, it got awkward, and I went to the living room.

We arrived at EZ within the hour.

The manager greeted us. “Hugo? I’m Mario Estrella.”

Gracious as always, Hugo shook hands and said, “Hugo Popovits.”

I think Mario’s eyes almost popped out of his head, but he covered well. “Maisy, I thought you said he only wore…”

Hugo had dressed in the jeans I’d bought him, along with a button down shirt. “Yes, well, never brag on a man or a dog, they’ll make a liar out of you.”

Mario laid out the choices we’d picked, and Hugo loved all of them. He went into the dressing room and refused to come out. Mario came and went, and I sat on the couch scrolling through Facebook. Then I decided to take photos of the outfits I’d put together, so I could write a blog post on men’s fashion and colors.

Almost an hour later, Hugo emerged. “Now all I need is pajamas.” He looked at Mario, and handed him a credit card. I’ll take everything on the left. The stuff on the right didn’t fit. But you already know what worked. Thanks.”

He sat down on the couch with me. I said, “Don’t I get to see you in the clothes I picked?”

“We’ll have a fashion show later. Right now, I want to shop some more.”

Mario brought Hugo’s card and receipt to be signed. “I’ll have everything sent to your hotel.”

Hugo stood and handed him the slip, taking his card. “It’s been, well, sort of fun.”

“It has. Thank you, Mr., I mean, Hugo.”

Mario leaned in to hug me and said, “He didn’t try on anything. He was on his phone the whole time. If something doesn’t fit, send it back, I’ll take care of everything.”

I kissed Mario on the cheek. “Gracias, Mario, you’ve been a peach.”

I glared at Hugo as he strolled out of the store.

Hugo said, “Pajama shopping?”

I bumped him and said, “I prefer you without pajamas.”

“A little forward, aren’t you?”

Apparently not forward enough. I rolled my eyes.

We walked by the CD store. Hugo stopped. “Let’s go in here.”

I offered a sick smile. “Let’s.”

Prissy boy greeted Hugo, then glared at me. “Hello, sir. Let me know if I can be of any help.”

Hugo walked around, looking at the dull white, gray, browns and blacks the store offered. He picked up a pair of shoes. Shiny leather lace ups. “What do you think of these, Maisy?”

I looked up from the floor, where I’d been concentrating my efforts with the toe of my shoe rubbing the surface. “Nice,” I responded.

“Can I get your size?” the salesman offered.

Hugo looked at him. “I don’t think so. They’re a bit stuffy. In fact, your entire store is a bit stuffy. Not my style at all.”

“Excuse me?” The salesman said, trying to contain his anger.

Hugo turned to me and whispered, “Thanks for not putting me through this. I realize now, you know my taste very well. This store makes me feel…I don’t know.”

“Suffocated?” I asked.

“Not exactly that, but it’s not my style. This is for people who want people to think they’re rich. I
am
rich, so I don’t need to try to impress anyone.”

“Excuse me?” The salesman interrupted.

Hugo didn’t respond to him, and I’d gotten the feeling Hugo had him tongue tied, because his vocabulary seemed to consist of only those two words.

Hugo looked at the girls peering from around the rack of shirts. “You ladies, too. Believe me, if you were in the class of people buying these clothes, you wouldn’t be selling them. You’re not fooling anyone.”

He took my hand and walked out of the store. Not impressed. I thought I heard the girl say to the guy, “That was Hugo Popovits. He’s a billionaire. She’s with a billionaire. You are so fucked.”

I thought about Kelsey for a second, then squeezed Hugo’s hand. “Ever seen the movie
Pretty Woman
?”

He stopped walking and looked at me. “No, I haven’t.”

“We’re watching it tonight,” I said.

He gave a quick nod. “Okay.”

We walked into a few more stores, but he didn’t find anything he liked.

“Your turn,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“Pick a store. In fact, pick three. We’re going shopping for you now.” He dragged me into HB.

“Hugo, I can’t afford any of this stuff. I’m trying to get back on my feet.” I tried to pull him out of the entrance.

“My treat. For putting up with me.” He picked up a large handbag, aqua with black and white stripes. “This is perfect.” He pulled a little clutch out of the interior of the handbag. “Look, it has its own handbag.” And he laughed like it was the funniest joke.

His humor and good mood made me laugh, too. It also warmed me inside.

He didn’t even consult me, taking the bag up to the counter and giving it to the saleswoman.

Gracious, she put it back on display and went to the back room to get a new bag, still in the HB handbag bag. Have you ever seen them? A huge bag of cotton fabric with brown and white stripes.

Hugo seemed fascinated by all of the uber expensive stores and dipped into each one to browse.

“This could be a lot of fun if someone was in the mood.” He took me by the hand again.

“Are you ever in the mood?” I asked glumly.

“Depends on what you’re talking about.” He winked at me.

A zing flooded my body. When Hugo held my hand, I didn’t know if he wanted me or just enjoyed my company. Either way, I held on for dear life.

I had no desire to try on clothes, and he seemed happy window shopping, until we came to a shoe store. More of an accessories and shoes type of store. He dragged me in.

“I’d love to try these in a nine,” he said to the very thin, very tastefully made up woman.

“Absolutely,” she cooed. “Anything for you, dear?” she asked me.

“No, thank you, I’m only looking, not buying.”

She brought out a pair of Oxford lace ups in brown, gray, and black, all in size nine.

“Please have a seat,” she said, setting the boxes down and opening them.

“No, I’m good,” Hugo said. He handed her his card. “I’ll take all three colors.”

The woman’s eyes widened, and I saw a heave of her red dress as she took in a breath. The price tag on the shoes: $3,000 each. Her commission would be nice. She rang us up and promised to have the shoes sent to the hotel.

I liked this being rich stuff Hugo had going on. Not having to haul around boxes and bags as we shopped. And I liked the way Hugo smiled warmly and treated everyone with respect. Well, almost everyone. As if he had a radar that sensed who deserved it and who didn’t.

Finally, I said, “I’m exhausted, Hugo. I don’t really feel like shopping anymore. Remember, I shopped for you while you slept? And besides, you must be exhausted from trying on all of those clothes earlier.”

I waited to see if he’d fess up. Nope. Nothing.

“How about some room service?” We headed to the exit of the Forums. “Besides, I have a surprise for you.”

I raised my brows. “Really? What is it?”

He shook his head. “No one ever accused me of being easy. You’ll have to wait.”

I refused to speak to him until we got back to the hotel.

“Room service? Or is there a restaurant you’ve always wanted to go to?”

“I’d love to go to Gordon Ramsey’s, but reservations are hard to get, and I really am exhausted.”

Hugo picked up the phone and said, “I’d like the menu from Gordon Ramsey’s brought up, please.”

When he hung up, I said, “Must be nice to be rich and be catered to.”

He sat on the couch with his feet on the coffee table. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t go out that much. But Stella could probably tell you. When I called the concierge, I fully expected him to say he couldn’t do it.”

He leaned his head back, and I couldn’t believe how incredibly sexy he looked in that moment.

I didn’t want to disturb him, so I slipped quietly over to the bar and opened it to see it fully stocked with top-shelf liquors. No wine, though. I’d been craving a glass of wine all day. I settled for a Bailey’s over ice. Sweet and cold.

“Your surprise is on the dining room table. I think it’ll fit perfectly in your new handbag.”

I looked over to the table to see a box from the Apple Store. “What?”

I looked back at him as he sat up. “It’s so you can be more portable. Not have to be in your office all the time to work.”

“I thought you hated Apple?” Remember the watch?

“I love all electronics. Heck, I just released the best electronic gaming watch to market.” He got up and walked to the table, opening the box. “It’s just the Air, and it’s so lightweight.”

I refrained from jumping up and down. “Just the Air?” I looked in the box. “For me? Really?”

“All for you.”

The knock came on the door before I could wrap my arms around him and kiss his stubble-free face.

We sat at the table and looked at the menu together, then Hugo called down to order the meals we’d chosen. “I’d like them here as soon as possible. And please tell Gordon’s manager, José, I think it is, that Stella Popovits said hello and thank you. And leave a $200 tip on my card.”

He hung up.

“Name dropper,” I said.

“If it gets us five-star service, I’ll drop whatever name I need.” Besides, Stella’s name is on the card, too. He’ll know when he runs it.”

We ordered dinner and wine, and Hugo asked the hotel to get us a copy of
Pretty Woman
.

The clothes arrived a few minutes later, and I called down to the concierge to have a new suitcase purchased. Turned out we needed two more. The bellman delivered all three, and we stood side by side packing the purchases into them.

“You promised me a fashion show,” I said as I helped pack the clothes.

“Maybe when we get home. The food will be here soon.”

And with that statement, we heard a knock at the door.

“Let’s eat in bed,” he said. He had the young man roll the cart into the bedroom.

“What’s with you and eating in bed?” I asked after the room service staff exited, a nice tip in hand.

“I feel like I’m being naughty. And Kelsey always insisted we eat at the dinner table.”

And there was that name. A fun day ruined in one word.

“Speaking of Kelsey, I heard you’re reconciling.” I lifted the covers off our food.

Hugo nearly choked on his laughter. “Where the hell did you hear that?”

I didn’t want to say Orlean told me. “Around. I run in better circles now, you know.”

“Fucking Stella. That’s how rumors get started.” He picked up a small piece of steak and chewed.

“Ha, ha,” I responded. “Great rumor.”

I chewed thoughtfully on a cooked carrot as I smiled to myself. Just a rumor.