Déja Vú

The First Collision

Leora

I take a step back to see who the "human wall" was, but the lights in the club didn't make it easy. Squinting, I take a closer look and realize he is...

"Ashton Carter?"

"Leora Kohen."

We both say it in unison, although mine comes out more like a question.

"Oh my God," he exclaims as realization hits—he had bumped into me.

"Your dress," he says, holding my shoulder as he inspects it.

"I'm so sorry," he immediately begins to apologize.

"No, it's oka—" I start, trying to excuse him, since I was equally guilty. I had been too angry to watch where I was going, hence the collision.

"No, Miss Kohen. I'm the one at fault; I wasn't looking. I am so sorry," he insists, and I start feeling guilty despite myself.

"It's okay, Mr. Carter. I'll just go to the bathroom and get it wiped off," I gesture toward what I assume is the restroom, but he shakes his head.

"No, Miss Kohen, it's silk. The stain won't come off easily," he states as he glances at my dress, while the cleaning crew gathers the broken glass.

"Why don't I get you another dress and have this dry cleaned?" He immediately offers.

Wait... what?

"No, no, no, Mr. Carter," I shake my head furiously. "I'll just wipe it off. I'm sure it'll be fine." I begin walking toward the bathroom when he gently grabs my arm.

"Okay, Miss Kohen. I know you probably don't want to agree because you only know me from tabloids or business magazines," he says, and I inwardly nod—exactly.

"And I also know that stain won't come off," he adds. "So... why don't we make a deal?"

"A deal?" I ask, surprised. What kind of deal could I make with one of the richest hoteliers in the U.S.?

"Yes, a deal," he responds with a gentle smile. "If the stain doesn't come off—which I know it won't—you cannot go back in there looking like this, and you can't possibly leave either. So, if the stain goes away, I'll let you be. But if it doesn't, you have to let me buy you another dress and get this dry cleaned." He stretches out his hand.

"Deal?"

"Deal." I shake his hand before proceeding to the bathroom, laughing at how cheesy he is.

True to his words, the stain didn't come off. Trying to rub it only made it worse.

I sigh in resignation as I step out. "I'm a size 10," I mutter to the man outside the door, who can't hide his smile.

"Gotcha. I'll place a call to my assistant," he says, walking away.

Shit.

Almost ten minutes later, he returns carrying a black cloth bag.

"That was fast," I say, surprised.

"Yeah," he agrees. "Apparently, there's a clothing store nearby. I told my assistant to get a dress that would match your accessories, because I knew you wouldn't accept another favor from me." He rambles, and I can't help but smile.

"Thank you... really," I say.

"Don't mention it, Miss Kohen. I'll be on the other side of the door if you need anything," he replies with a smile.

I step inside to change. Pulling out the dress, I gasp. It's beautiful—a silver, off-shoulder, ankle-length gown with a slit reaching up to my upper thigh. I try to pull off my current dress but hit a problem.