Never Dare a Tycoon (7 page)

“I’ll bet he has,” Antonia said with resignation.

Lucy was about the same age as Antonia, maybe a year or two older. But she never greeted Antonia by her first name, no matter how many times Antonia asked her to. She had bright red hair, just like Lucille Ball’s, with the creamy white complexion and green eyes.

Lucy disappeared behind a curtain while Antonia waited for her to bring out the dress. Antonia strolled through the other dresses on hangers, fingering the rich material. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw a black dress hanging from the satin covered hanger.

It was all black satin crepe. The bodice was demure in one way, the fabric coming high enough, but with a deep V in the center. The spaghetti straps and the slit in the leg made the dress all the more impressive. She took it off the rack and moved over to a three-sided mirror, imagining herself in the dress.

That was where Lucy found her. The salesperson held up a pink, silk dress with a fitted bodice, long sleeves and a skirt that flared out with yards and yards of gathered material at the waist, falling all the way to the floor. Antonia groaned.

“That’s what he wants me to wear?” she asked, staring at the pink creation in the mirror.

 

Lucy lifted the dress higher so she could see more of it. “Isn’t it beautiful?” she asked.

 

Those weren’t the words that Antonia would use to describe the dress. But she bit her tongue and put the black dress back on the rack.

 

“The seamstress is waiting in the back to hem or alter the dress in any way,” Lucy said, carrying the dress to the fitting room, Antonia following behind.

Antonia pulled off her tee shirt and jeans, then let Lucy slip the dress over her head and zip it up. Staring at her reflection in the mirror, Antonia felt, and looked, like a giant, pink tulip. She walked out to the viewing area that had several mirrors to get a better look. Perhaps the light in the dressing room wasn’t as flattering as the main salon.

Nope. No way to avoid it. Giant pink tulip she thought as she stared at her reflection in the multitude of mirrors. But now it was also a shiny, giant, pink tulip. In the brighter light, Antonia realized that the pink silk was shiny and not matte as she’d originally thought.

“Isn’t it lovely?” Lucy asked again, hoping for some sort of appreciation of the dress.

 

“I’m sure some teenager would love to wear it to her prom. In fact, I think I wore one just like it to my senior prom,” Antonia replied.

Lucy didn’t know how to respond to that. So she ignored it and smiled more intensely. “I’ll go get the seamstress. It will need to be hemmed if you’re going to dance this Saturday night.”

Lucy seemed so excited about the idea of a spring ball she could hardly contain herself. Antonia wished there was some way to avoid it.

She turned around and stared at the black dress longingly. Gathering up the pink fabric again, she stepped down to the floor. Picking up the black dress again, she held it in front of her, imagining how it would look on.

Lucy returned with an elderly lady in tow. “We’re ready when you are,” she chimed, nervous because Antonia wasn’t very pleased with her brother’s selection.

Antonia reached down and read the price tag attached to the sleeve of her tulip dress. She then read the price on the black dress. If she took the black dress, she’d save her brother over a thousand dollars.

Turning to Lucy, she asked, “Has my brother already paid for this dress?” she said, indicating the pink silk.

 

Lucy nodded nervously.

“Good. I’m going to exchange it,” she said and gathered up the pink silk for the last time. She headed for the dressing room. It only took a moment to change into the black silk. The transformation was dramatic. Gone was the teenage princess in a giant pink dress. She was now looking at an adult, ready to take on the world and win in a daring, sophisticated gown.

Antonia walked out into the staging area again, turning around to see herself from the side and the back. The dress fit perfectly, even the length. She laughed in delight at how sophisticated she looked. With black stockings, black pumps and a black, silk shawl, the dress would be perfect.

Lucy waved the seamstress forward and the little lady immediately started pinning the straps of the bodice higher. Antonia shook her head, indicating that the woman didn’t need to alter anything on the dress. “It’s perfect just the way it is,” she said, twirling around to see the way the silk looked from different angles, loving the way the dress moved with her. Even though it revealed a lot of skin, it was conservative compared to the cat costume she wore at Cesar’s, so she wouldn’t feel self-conscious in it. In the back of her mind, she wished Brett could see her in this dress. But then she dismissed the thought. She wanted to be brave, but not that brave. She didn’t have the courage to face him in a dress this daring.

“I’ll take this one, Lucy,” Antonia said and headed back to the dressing room to change clothes. “What shoes did he pick out for me?” she asked, knowing Sal would be thorough.

Lucy pulled out a bag with a receipt stapled to it. “I chose the shoes. I thought you might like slippers since you’ll be dancing that night.”

Antonia slipped one shoe out of the tissue paper. She tried to hold back the grimace, but she wasn’t sure she’d completely succeeded if the pained look on Lucy’s face was any indication. The shoe Antonia held in her hand reminded her of the house slippers an elderly lady might wear. They were obviously more durable than house slippers so a woman could walk in the street in them, but other than that, they were house slippers, right down to the satin bow at the top.

“Don’t worry, I’ll exchange these in the shoe department for something more appropriate.”

The black dress was wrapped up and handed to Antonia. She proceeded to the shoe department and found some elegant pumps that would be perfect for the dress.

She carried the dress out of the mall, then carefully rolled it up so it fit in her backpack without getting too wrinkled. Speeding away on her motorcycle, Lucy left the mask on her helmet up, even though it was full daylight and a police officer might pull her over at any time. But she didn’t care. several weeks. She couldn’t wait for the party now. barely contain herself.
She felt freer than she had in

She was so excited, she could And it showed in her work. She was so excited that her customers’ tips were much larger than usual. The extra money during the week almost made up for what she’d miss in tips on Saturday night.

Saturday morning, she woke up early, excited about the night ahead. She had a hair appointment, again, courtesy of Sal. It was scheduled for two o’clock so she decided to have a leisurely morning. She rode to the Old Post Office Pavilion and bought a cup of coffee and a newspaper. She sipped her coffee and spent the whole morning reading every article possible.

At one-thirty, she took a cab to the hairdresser and allowed herself to be pampered for the day. This was one thing she loved Sal doing for her. Each time she accompanied him to a corporate function, he arranged for a manicure, pedicure, facial, and for her hair to be styled. By the time she left the salon at four o’clock, she felt like a new woman.

There was a small skirmish with the hair dresser who wanted to put white flowers in her hair, but Antonia realized that Sal had told her what type of dress she’d be wearing and corrected the idea. The woman completely changed directions with the hair. Instead of piling it on top of Antonia’s head with ringlets coming down and baby’s breath accenting the dark curls, she twisted the heavy mass into a twist at the nape of her neck, allowing the long curls to float delicately down her back.

She rode home in another cab, cringing at the expense, but thought it was well worth the trouble, knowing what her helmet would do to her newly styled hair.

Instead of meeting her family at the house, she called at the last minute and told them she’d meet them at the restaurant. If she knew her brother, he’d force her to march upstairs to her room and change clothes at the first sight of her black dress.

Michael, who answered the phone, reluctantly agreed to meet her there.

She was the first one to arrive for a change. So, when everyone else entered the restaurant, she was at the bar sipping a martini. Her brother Carlo was the first to see her and he smiled warily at her appearance. Antonia was too nervous to look at her brothers as they filed into the restaurant behind Carlo, each of them coming to a stop as they surveyed her dress. None of them had said a word.

They were immediately led to their table by the hostess. Antonia set her martini glass down in front of one of the places and pulled her chair out, still avoiding her brothers’ eyes. It was Sal and Carlo who took the chairs next to her. And Antonia braced herself for the upcoming dinner.

“Is that the dress I paid for?” Sal asked quietly as soon as he sat down, his deep voice right next to her ear.

 

Antonia couldn’t speak. He was angry, as expected. She nodded her head and plastered a smile on her face.

 

Sal nodded. “I don’t believe it’s the one I picked out, is it?” he said next.

 

Antonia shook her head. “No. I didn’t think the pink tulip really fit my personality.”

 

“What tulip?” Michael said. “What are you talking about?”

Antonia squared her shoulders. She would not be intimidated by her brothers, she told herself. She had been preparing herself for this all week. “The pink dress you had chosen for me is no longer appropriate for someone of my age. Admit it Sal, you want me to be sixteen and I’m not willing to go back in time.”

“We’ll discuss this later tonight,” he said.

The dinner progressed and her brothers discussed the latest week’s business. Antonia even gained enough courage to offer her opinion on some of the subjects being discussed. But when her brothers dismissed her contributions to the conversation, Antonia gave up.

When they entered the ballroom at eight-thirty, Sal handed the coats to the clerk, all except for Antonia’s shawl. All her brothers approved as they nodded in unspoken agreement. Apparently, Thomas and Michael had discussed Antonia’s dress, and therefore her further defiance and lack of responsibility, during the ride from the restaurant.

Antonia shrugged her shawl back onto her shoulders, smiling slightly and shaking her head at the irony of her brother’s actions. She’d seen him looking at Georgette at Cesar’s, but when it came to his sister, no one was allowed to look. If he only knew the times men had tried to flirt with her while she was working, he’d have a stroke.

They made their way to the table reserved for them, shaking hands along the way. Antonia’s shawl fell off her shoulders, but there wasn’t anything Sal could do as she had her arm tucked into his. Apparently, he felt she was safe as long as she was attached to his side.

Finally reaching their table and champagne was distributed. Once a toast was drunk, each of her brothers moved off to find dance partners among the crowd. Antonia could tell Sal wanted to keep her here in the corner of the room, but his manners kicked in and he also extended his arm to Antonia.

Antonia left her shawl on the back of the chair and accepted her brother’s arm, allowing him to lead her onto the dance floor.

 

The orchestra started with a simple waltz and, since Antonia loved to dance, she allowed herself to forget Sal’s irritation and lost herself in the dance.

 

After a few minutes, she said softly, “I’m sorry I hated the dress you chose for me.”

 

“Are you?”

 

Antonia nodded but he refused to look down at her so she spoke her agreement. “Yes, I am,”

 

“Are you sorry that I hate it, or are you sorry that you chose something completely inappropriate?” he asked, not looking at her.

Antonia laughed, sensing his anger was dissipating slightly. Her dress was completely appropriate, just not for Sal’s baby sister. “You got me there. I’m only sorry I didn’t like the pink tulip,” she said.

That got his attention. “You said that at dinner but I still don’t understand what you are referring to?” he asked, finally looking down at her.

 

“The giant tulip you chose for me. The one with about fifty yards of fabric.”

 

“It was beautiful and appropriate,” he said and looked away again.

Antonia laughed again. “Sal, look around you. My dress is not any more revealing than many other women’s here tonight. You just hate the fact that I’m an adult. It terrifies you.”

Sal took a moment to look around and indeed, there were several women who were wearing variations on Antonia’s dress. But he refused to budge. “It’s not appropriate for you.”

Antonia laughed again. “Sal, you’ll never change, will you?” she said, and hugged him.

Heading back to their table, Antonia and Sal were stopped by one of Thomas’s vice presidents. “Would you like to dance?” the middle aged man asked Antonia.

Antonia smiled into the man’s eyes. “I’d love to,” she said before Sal could decline for her. She slipped her arm out from Sal’s and allowed herself to be escorted back onto the dance floor.

For the next hour, she danced one dance after another, smiling up into the various faces of her partners. All of them were charming in their own way, some were married, but the majority of them were single professionals, almost all of them employees of ATI.

They all flirted with her, regardless of their marital status. But Antonia brushed off their advances and continued to enjoy the dancing.

 

That’s how Brett first saw her.

Brett entered the ballroom and scanned the occupants. He was looking for one woman in particular. And when he spotted her, his frustration over the last two weeks became a white-hot anger.

There she was. She was in a sexy black dress that showed her legs with every step she took, and she was in the arms of a man that looked as if he was still in college. With as much restraint as possible, Brett walked up to Sal instead of storming onto the dance floor and ripping her out of the man’s arms. Antonia’s brother was standing at the edge of the ballroom, looking like the wrath of God.

Brett took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, wishing he had something stronger.