Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
London was beautiful, and I always enjoyed coming here. The city's charm was undeniable, with its historic architecture and vibrant energy. As the car door opened, I saw James extending his hand to help me out.
"Ready?" he asked, looking down at me with a soft smile.
I took his hand, smiling and nodding. "Ready."
We walked into the grand building, where a middle-aged man greeted us at the entrance.
"Sir," he said with a small bow to James. James nodded, acknowledging his greeting with a casual air of familiarity.
"You must be Miss Laurent," the man said, turning to me with a welcoming smile.
"Hi," I replied, returning his smile.
"Welcome, I'm Tristan, the master tailor here," he began, his voice warm and professional. "Please, follow me."
As we walked through the halls, I admired the intricate details of the building's architecture, the ornate moldings, and the luxurious decor. I could feel James's gaze on me, but I chose to focus on my surroundings, taking in the beauty of it all.
We entered a spacious room filled with Victorian dresses, each one more stunning than the last. "This is the showroom for the Beaufort collection, which dates back to 1848," Tristan explained, his voice filled with pride.
"We've prepared some dresses for you," Tristan said, gesturing to the array of gowns around us. My eyes scanned the room until they landed on a familiar dress.
"I recognize this," I said, stepping closer to a stunning pink dress. "It was shown last year in the Victoria and Albert Museum."
"Absolutely right," Tristan praised with a smile. "For the Queen Victoria retrospective."
"These are all just reproductions," he explained. "The originals are too fragile to showcase."
"So, does this help?" James chimed in, a satisfied grin on his face as he took a sip of his drink.
"It's perfect," I said, my eyes wide with admiration. "May I take a photo?" I asked, already reaching for my phone.
"Please," Tristan nodded.
I quickly snapped a few pictures, capturing the exquisite details of the dress. The craftsmanship was impeccable, and I felt a rush of excitement imagining how these dresses would elevate our event.
I sent the pictures to the committee's group chat, my fingers typing quickly as I asked if these dresses were good for the cover of the poster. Almost immediately, my phone buzzed with enthusiastic replies and thumbs-up emojis.
James stood up from his chair, a glass in each hand. "Drink?" he offered.
I took one gratefully. "Thanks."
He took a sip, his eyes glinting with a mischievous spark. "Want to try it on?"
"Can I?" I asked, my excitement bubbling over.
He nodded, and an idea popped into my head, a playful smirk spreading across my face. "I'll try it on only if you follow suit."
He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. "You mean put on one of these ridiculous get-ups?" he asked, gesturing to the array of Victorian suits displayed alongside the dresses.
"Yes," I said, crossing my arms with a challenge in my eyes. "Deal?"
He chuckled, shaking his head. "Alright, deal."
Tristan, sensing the unfolding fun, clapped his hands together. "This will be delightful. Follow me, both of you."
⋅˚₊‧ ★ ‧₊˚ ⋅
I could hear a faint piano melody from a distance as I walked down the stairs in the beautiful dress.
James must have heard my footsteps because he stopped playing, his eyes fixed on me as I made my way down. He approached me slowly, his gaze lingering on my shoulders before meeting my eyes.
"Tristan, can you take a picture? Her brothers would want to see," James requested, his eyes never leaving mine. I felt a flutter of nervousness in my stomach at his intensity.
"Oh, it's-" I started, but Tristan was already snapping photos. I glanced at James with a shy smile before turning to admire myself in the mirror.
As I posed, captivated by the dress, Tristan continued to click away with his camera. James joined me, and soon we were joking and trying different poses, the laughter infectious.
In the middle of our playfulness, I felt James's hand on my waist, sending a shiver down my spine. His touch was gentle yet possessive as he held his other hand with mine.
He surprised me by going down on one knee and pressing a soft kiss to my hand, his eyes never leaving mine. I couldn't help but laugh at his playful gesture. We got closer and closer, our nosed touching. I wanted to kiss him so bad.
But our moment was interrupted by the sound of the door opening, signaling the arrival of James's parents.
"Here you are," James's father said, his expression serious as he approached us.
"How are you, sir?" I greeted politely, but he ignored me.
James's mother stepped forward and embraced me warmly. "It's been so long since I last saw you, Iris," she said with a smile.
"You look fantastic, dear," she complimented, and I returned the smile.
But the warm moment was shattered by James's father's harsh words. "He's playing dress-up while we await him at lunch with the Ellingtons," he said, his tone dripping with anger.
"I understand that you're in your rebellious phase," he continued, addressing James directly. "But it's inappropriate to drag this poor girl into it."
I raised an eyebrow at the accusation, feeling a surge of indignation. Before I could respond, James's father criticized the fit of my dress, his words cutting like a knife.
"No offense, but that dress is a bit too tight around the chest," he remarked. "It's a dress fit for a queen."
As James's father critiqued the fit of my dress, I felt a surge of indignation rise within me. "No offense taken, sir," I replied evenly, though my voice betrayed a hint of defiance. "But I assure you, I'm quite comfortable in this dress."
Before James's father could respond, I took a step forward, my resolve firm. "Thank you James, I had a great time, but I believe it's time for me to take my leave," I announced, my gaze steady as I met James's eyes.
James's father nodded curtly, clearly pleased by my decision. "Percy can take you," he offered, gesturing towards the door.
But I shook my head firmly. "Thank you, but I'll just call an uber," I insisted, rather uncomfortable with the situation.
James glanced at me, a flicker of concern in his eyes. "Are you sure?" he asked quietly.
I offered him a reassuring smile. "I'll be fine," I assured him, though my heart pounded with uncertainty. "I'll see you later."
