Page 95 of Prey Tell
“Not enough for that,” he growls, pulling away and looking rather reluctant about it. “When I fix my cufflinks later, take it as the signal that the scene is about to start, Juliet.”
A flash of anticipation blazes through me, and I nod once as he walks me outside to his waiting car. This time, it’s a black vintage car.
“And what kind of car is this?” I ask, tilting my head as I admire it.
“A 1957 Bentley S1,” he says as if I know what that means.
Opening my door, I sit carefully as he shuts it and walks around to his side.
“And my dress?” I ask, running my hand along the dark-blue velvet.
“Probably worth more than my car,” he says casually, winking before popping his aviators on.
My mouth drops open as I take in the beautiful vehicle. There’s no way…
“Chase,” I say slowly, my hands resting on my thighs. “Tell me about the dress.”
He pulls out onto the road. This car is definitely slower than the yellow one, but it still runs smoothly for an old car.
“The designer is Victor Edelstein,” he says smugly.
“Yeah, I gathered that from the label.”
“In 1985, Princess Diana saw this dress in burgundy and asked Victor to make one for her in blue. She then wore it to the White House for a gala. It’s famous. People call it the Travolta dress, because there’s a famous picture of her dancing with John Travolta at that gala.”
My pulse thrums inside of me as we merge onto the freeway. I barely hear him over the whooshing in my ears when he continues speaking.
“She donated it before her death, and it passed into many different hands before my mother—a lover of the royal family—bought it ten years ago.”
I’m stunned. Deceased. My mind is both screaming at me and deathly quiet as I take in his words as I look down at the iconic dress.I’m wearing Princess Diana’s dress.
Swallowing thickly, I look over at Chase, who looks completely nonplussed.
“What if I spill something on it?” I say quickly, my voice panicked.
“Don’t worry. It’s insured for over a million dollars.”
I slap my hand over my mouth and close my eyes. “Oh my god,” I mutter, and Chase laughs as we fly down the 405.
“Parker, when are you going to learn that I don’t do anything—”
“Half-assed, I know,” I mutter, running my finger along the fine velvet.
I am wearing a dress that is quite literally in history books. One of the most sought-after dresses of all time. This dress should be in a museum. Not pulled snugly around me, someone at least two sizes bigger than the infamous original owner. I’m still in awe when Chase’s hand comes to my knee, and he grips it tightly.
“You’re radiant, Juliet. Stop doubting yourself.”
I take a deep breath before I respond. “Where are we going tonight, anyway?” My eyes dart to the signs on the freeway, indicating that we’re heading toward downtown Crestwood.
“Work party at one of the local galleries in town”
“Potential clients?” I ask.
He nods. “New clients, actually. They host exhibits from marginalized groups—showcasing newer artists, mostly. Tonight is the opening night for the gallery.”
I pull my lips to the side. “Sounds amazing.”
“We won’t be staying long. But Miles thought it might be good to show our faces.”
