VOLKO

Chapter Eleven

After four hours of being asleep, the period pains now resembled nothing more than a slight ache much to my relief. Better yet, I woke to find a beautiful emerald dress hanging from my wardrobe. I placed it against myself in the mirror and instantly fell in love.

That had been two hours ago, twenty whole minutes since people had started to arrive. I knew because their loud chattering could be heard through my french doors, not helping with the nervousness.

Of course my father had come by to check on me, he'd even marvelled at the dress confirming my suspicion that he hadn't been the one to buy it. After debriefing me on all the important people I'd be meeting tonight he rushed out, no mention of last night's antics.

I'd expected Jake to show up at some point, even if it was to make a comment, yet he never did. Instead I had to use a coat hanger in order to zip the back of the dress up. Which had now led me to run late.

That, and the fact I wasn't going anywhere in this dress. Checking myself out in the mirror, I looked good, scratch that, I looked stunning. The dress clung to me perfectly in all the right places, pushing my breasts up, and flaring at the waist to hide my bloated stomach. The thick material surprisingly felt very light on.

I loved it, that was the problem. The whole thing was too... much? Out of the Cotton's I'd always felt like the ugly duck, which was fine. It meant people didn't bother me and I liked that. If I walked down there tonight wearing this, even if people weren't looking, I'd be conscious that they were.

Had my breasts always been this big?

What I needed was some sort of cardigan, yes that would help cover me up a little.

Frantically I searched through my clothes, throwing anything that didn't meet the agenda onto the bed. The panic started to settle in when I began to reach the bottom. So consumed with my task, it wasn't until the second hard knock I realised someone was at the door.

"Who is it?" I called, my voice came out breathless.

"Dean. Your father is waiting and wants to know how long you'll be." His Russian accent was thicker than normal, still sent jitters through me. Seeing as Dean was the only one I'd mentioned not having a dress to, my only conclusion was he'd brought. The thought of him picking something out for me, gave me feelings I'd rather not dwell on.

"Ummmmm... I'm not sure." I looked at the mountain of clothes. The idea to call Gemma and ask for her help was pressing. Sadly, I knew the Cotton's were at one of Mrs C charities events. I wasn't about to put a damper on anyone's night with me crying about a dress.

"Is everything okay?"

No, everything was definitely not okay.

"Yeah, fine. I'll be down in a minute." I waited to hear footsteps walking away but they never came.

"Can I come in?" One horrified glance at the bomb site that was my room gave me my answer.

"No."

There was another long pause.

"If something is wrong I need to know."

"It's not."

"Megan-"

"I'm fine!" My voice cracked a little as a single tear rolled down my face.

Without warning the door opened and Dean walked in wearing a slim fitted black tuxedo, looking gorgeous as usual. His eyes instantly lit up when he saw me, they trailed all the way from the bottom to the top. Lingering a little too long on my chest, giving me that kick of butterflies in my stomach again.