Page 108 of The One
“Hmm?”
“Enjoy this time. It’s special. I’m thrilled for you.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Mariella
Ihold up the shimmering silver dress, a goofy grin spreading across my face.
It’s the one I saw at Gucci, the dress Mateo insisted on buying for me. I refused then, convinced I’d never have an occasion to wear something so stunning.
Its impeccable tailoring and flawless design strike the perfect balance between elegance and boldness. The hem stops mid-thigh, revealing just enough to be daring without crossing into scandalous territory, while the halterneck design covers my bust.
It’s a relief. I’m not sure I’d be comfortable showing too much cleavage.
I let my fingertips glide over the fabric. It’s smooth and weightless despite its elaborate sparkle.
Wow.
That grin? Yeah, it’s still plastered across my face.
Right until I realize I have no undergarments for a dress like this or the right shoes. My smile falters, replaced by a frown as my gaze drifts to my closet, trying to remember what I have that might go with this.
Hang on, there was a smaller package nestled inside when I first pulled the dress out, but in my excitement, it barely registered.
I carefully lay the dress on the bed and peek into the box. Sure enough, there’s an ivory box inside, and my breath catches as I stare at the elegant, silver-embossed logo.
La Perla.
I open the lid, revealing layers of delicate tissue paper, semi-sheer and so soft I worry it might dissolve at my touch. A small sticker, perfectly positioned, holds it all together. I hesitate, savoring the moment.
Even the faint scent rising from the box seems intentional, a subtle floral note that adds to the aura of indulgence.
Did Mateo pick this out? Or was it a store clerk?
My cheeks warm at the thought that it was Mateo.
I carefully peel away the sticker and unwrap a strapless lace bra. It’s intricate, bold and delicate and sits atop the soft folds of seamless nude panties. They’re folded so nicely it seems wrong to disturb them.
Beneath them is a pair of nude thigh-high stockings with a lace trim that matches the bra, so silky they almost glide through my fingers.
Again, I wonder if Mateo picked this out himself. Did he picture me in these? The thought leaves me flustered, but I can’t deny the thrill running through me.
Nobody has ever bought me anything like this.
My mother organized my wardrobe for my marriage to Renaldo Conti, right down to the lingerie, but nothing was this exquisite. Those pieces were practical, carefully chosen to meet expectations, not to makemefeel special. This, though? It’s indulgent, luxurious, and very personal.
I stare at it for a little while longer, before turning my attention to a pair of silver stiletto heels in the bottom of the box, which complete the ensemble.
“Wow, just wow,” I mutter to myself, sinking onto the bed and admiring Mateo’s latest gifts.
He’s spoiling me.
Though to him this is likely just an outfit he’s providing for our club night. He probably does this sort of thing all the time for his dates.
Is this a date?
We all know how they usually end. Is this why he picked theLa Perlagarments?
