INDISPENSABLE: Part 2 (6 page)

The streets of Paris were alive with activity. Sarah looked around in wonder, pointing out all the fabulous things she’d always wanted to see but never thought she would. Brock smiled and held her hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

She let out a loud gasp when she saw the Eiffel Tower all lit up. It stopped her in her tracks. This was a fantasy moment. “Oh. It’s just beautiful, Brock.”

“We’ll be going there soon. But first we’ll shop.”

“Are the stores open late?”

“For me they are. The ones I need anyway.”

Sarah let out a breath. This man was…well, he was impossible, and yet he was everything any woman could want. When he opened himself up, he was so perfect. It made her think about his daughter, Heather, and her mother.

“Brock?”

“Yes?”

“You must’ve been very young when Heather was born.”

He fell silent for a few steps. “I was. We both were.”

“Can I ask…?”

“Jodie and I were headstrong teenagers. Her family fell on the wrong side of the tracks—according to my father anyway, and her father told her anyone like me was only ever used to buying people off. They never had feelings for anything except money.”

“So, it was the forbidden attraction.”

“Some things never change.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “We were determined to prove everyone wrong. At fifteen, we knew everything, right?”

“Fifteen.” Sarah still found that hard to imagine.

“Yes. Me with my father dead and my mother spiralling downwards. Her with her father constantly telling her how she wasn’t good enough for a rich boy.”

“That’s sad.” Sarah felt for him. That age was a tough gig.

Brock walked a few more steps before he spoke again. “It was. But in hindsight, we should’ve listened to a certain degree. No one can know that love that lasts a lifetime was a lot harder to get than by just wishing for it.”

“It all seems so simple then.”

“Yes. But we managed to complicate it as much as anyone could.”

“But Heather is a lovely young woman.”

“She is. Thanks to her mother mostly.”

“I’m sure you had a hand in it.”

“Not really. Apart from paying for education and the occasional family dinner.”

Brock fell silent again. Sarah sensed he’d had enough of that subject for now and said, “My brother was so lovely. He was kind and gentle. He saw the romance in everything. Typical artistic type. But he felt things too deeply at times.”

“What happened?”

“You must understand, my parents were, well, not available physically or emotionally at that time. Addiction had become their whole lives. Still is as far as I know.”

“That’s sad. But I get the addiction thing. My mother suffered from grief terribly after losing Dad. She hooked up with the first person who talked nice to her, and he latched on until all the money was gone.”

“Derek killed himself, and I never thought I’d get over it. It did nothing to help my parent’s way of life. I was off the rails for a couple of years. Bella saved me.”

“I’m sorry about the artwork. I truly thought it would make you happy.”

“The pieces of artwork have. It’s just such a raw story, and I’ve only ever shared it with Bella. My parents held themselves over my head for ages. I refused to pay for them. I figured they were long gone by now.” Sarah held his hand tighter. It felt good to share some of her life, the reason why she was the way she was.

“I guess everyone has a story.”

“For sure. But once I came out of it and figured out that my life was only what I made of it, I set my sights on being the best lawyer out there.”

“And you’ve succeeded.”

“I’ve a long way to go yet. Years of experience is needed.”

“I disagree. One thing Heather has taught me is that everyone has something to bring to the table. Everyone has strengths and weaknesses. Not everyone works the same but that doesn’t devalue what they can do. Fresh and new is as valuable as experienced and older in my eyes. Both have their places.”

“Is that what we’re doing?”

“You mean trying to blend our styles?”

“Perhaps.”

“Maybe just trying to understand each other better so we can be friends.”

“Maybe that too.” Sarah considered his words. Why did it matter to her?

“I’m not sure really, Sarah. Maybe we like to torture ourselves with the impossible. I know I like having you around. I trust you professionally, and as a friend. I want to know you better, and I want to let me you know me. What I don’t know is how this will end up.”

“Day by day is good for me. Why worry about the end? Let’s just live in the moment. But at work, we must be professional.” Sarah was in a reckless mood.

“But one day we will have to answer that question.”

“And we may get hurt. But I want to cross that when I come to it.”

“Here we are.” Brock stopped walking in front of a darkened store. He tapped on the door and lights went on behind the heavy blinds in the window. “Great. Pierre is here already.”

“Pierre?” No, surely not.

“Pierre Baston.” He grinned back at her.

“
The
Pierre Baston?”

“None other. French designer extraordinaire. At our service.”

“Your money really does open doors.”

“This is more about a drunken weekend on a yacht where we became firm friends.”

“Unbelievable.” Sarah was amazed. Now he was friends with the most notoriously unfriendly designer in the world.

“You can’t believe everything you read. We all have a gimmick.”

“So I see.”

The door opened and Pierre Baston stood there, dressed impeccably. “Brock! How fabulous to see you. Come in. Come in. Mon Dieu! What is she wearing? And you?” His accent was supremely French. “Hurry before the fashion police arrive and arrest you.”

They both stepped in the wide door, and Pierre’s store was full of the most gorgeous dresses Sarah had ever seen. She couldn’t wear anything like this.

“Pierre, this is Sarah. She’s the head of my legal team, and my friend.”

“Friend? Friend? What is the world coming to when you have friend?” Pierre laughed very loud and hit Brock in the arm.

“You can talk. You’re the one who tells the media you hate people.”

“They want to impress me more then. Enough about me. Why are we here?” Pierre took her hand and kissed the back of it. “Why is such a beautiful, intelligent lady here with such a scoundrel?”

“Knock off the French act. I trust Sarah, so you’re good.”

“Oh thank fuck for that. I was running out of French words.” His voice became an all-American drawl.

Sarah stared at Pierre, and then at Brock, then back at Pierre. “What the hell?”

“Don’t worry, I do design the clothes. It’s why I never talk much, and they think I’m aloof and unfriendly.” Pierre laughed. “I just have no fucking clue what to say most of the time. Brock called me out and now he blackmails me with it any chance he gets.”

“That’s so unfair. But tonight I must say, I am pleased he did.”

“I never got any attention until I was ‘French.’ Then, my designs took off, and I’m not sure what would happen if it came out I wasn’t.”

“They’ll never hear it from me. I can assure you.”

“What can I do for you both?”

“We’re on a short break, a few days away. But we had to leave in a hurry and Sarah has no suitable dinner outfits. I’d like you to dress her.”

“My pleasure. I have several new season outfits that will be divine.”

“And me as well.”

“Of course. But first, the lady. You know where the drinks are, Brock, and look through the menswear, find some things you like, and we’ll work it out.”

“No problem.”

Pierre led Sarah away by the hand, and her stomach was full of nervous butterflies. This man’s dresses sold for thousands of dollars. This was incredible. “Thank you. I’m not sure I can do your dresses justice.”

“Nonsense. With that body, my dresses will sing. Brock has wonderful taste.”

Sarah’s mood dropped a little. “I guess this is normal for him. To bring his favorite women here.” She had no right to be jealous.

Pierre led her to a warm and brightly lit dressing room that was the size of her new sitting room. “No. Usually just himself. This is quite a treat. He’s a good man, just needs to get in touch with his feminine side.”

Sarah smiled. That news pleased her more than it should. “We are helping each other.”

“Good. Good. Now, do you have any fantasy dresses, colors, styles, any dresses you remember and loved?”

“I do love white, but I’m far too clumsy with sauces to wear that. I’m a romantic at heart, I guess. The whole princess and knight in shining armor appeals to me. If we are going fantasy…”

“Perfect. I’ll go and get the ones I think will work, and you browse the racks in here and choose a few.”

“This is truly amazing. Thank you so much.”

“Brock and I go back a long way. Don’t let his stories fool you. I knew him when we were children.”

“You did? He told me..?”

“He is a very private man. There may always be something you don’t know about him. It’s his way. To completely trust is not a thing he’s able to do. This is something we come to accept to be his friend.”

“I see.” So he’d lied to her, even now.

“Don’t be disheartened. I can’t tell you if it’s worth it, or even if you’ll be successful. But there is much I’m sure you don’t know, and how much he will share, I don’t know. But the fact that he has shared anything at all is a huge step for him.”

Sarah nodded. “No one is perfect. I’m dealing with things to. But we’re not getting hooked on the future.”

“Good. Now, let’s get you dressed. I’ll go and find some of my best new collection, and you can see if anything out here strikes a chord.”

Sarah couldn’t believe she was here. This truly was the fairy tale she’d dreamed of as a little girl. The one her mother had read to her about when she was a five-year-old. She’d promised Sarah that every little princess had a prince. Sarah had thought she’d really meant that. But it never turned out that way. The wheels fell off after her baby brother was born.

Sarah tried to get her mind off those times and back into the here and now. She walked past the rows and rows of dresses on racks. Every dress she’d ever dreamed of was here, and some she could never imagine. Sequins, silk, taffeta, diamantes. Every color and shade of the rainbow. This was impossible. A gorgeous sky blue caught her eye.

The dress was off-the-shoulder with sparkling clear crystals along the shoulder strap and bodice. The waist cinched in with a wide band of blue crystals. It looked long and flared out in layers and layers of fine ruffles falling elegantly from the waist.

Surely that was over the top for a simple dinner? Sarah held the dress up against herself and twirled from side to side. She looked at it in the mirror. It was just too special. Who would wear such a lavish gown?

A queen, maybe. Not ordinary Sarah Beaumont who was more at home savaging the opposition in a courtroom than pretending to be Cinderella going to a ball. But she’d wanted romance.

Brock was making sure she got it. And he was playing along. She thought about his body underneath hers on the jet. He’d truly let go for a few minutes. Maybe longer. He’d held her close to him. He’d said his safe word, and she hadn’t stopped. He’d forgiven her for that. They were even, she supposed.

But his warning that after this it was his way again had her thinking about what that would mean. If she decided to be with him again. She swirled the dress and thought about what he’d think of her in it. Of course she’d be with him again. If they could just find a way to meld their preferences. Maybe this could work, like, permanently.

Why was she thinking that way? He was her boss. He was arrogant and annoying and everything he did was designed to piss her off. This Brock was not real. He was humoring her. She’d have fun playing along, but she couldn’t be caught up in the whole thing. Dinner in Paris via private jet, how often did that happen? It didn’t, not in the real world.

She was about to hang the gown back up on the rack when Pierre came backing pushing another rack of dresses. “Beautiful choice that dress. I’m not sure that color is for you. How do you feel about red?”

“I’m not sure. I wear red a lot for work; it’s a bit official I guess.”

“Okay, no red. Do you have a particular favorite shade?”

“Not really. I don’t know. I guess when I was five I liked a lot of pink. Isn’t that a bit childish though?”

Pierre smiled. “Not my pink dresses. Here put this on. The changing room is back there, and it’s well warmed.” He pointed in the direction. “Wait, you need proper undergarments.”

“I should’ve brought my bag.”

“Why?”

“Because my best friend packed my bag for me to come away with Brock, and all she put in was underwear and lingerie.”

Pierre laughed. “Ah, she’s very cheeky.” He chose some items off another rack. A bustier and some slinky panties. Stockings and suspender belt in the palest of pinks, a shade under the dress.

“Putting it mildly. She just wants to see me enjoying myself, I guess.”

“Don’t you usually?”

“I’ve worked a lot.”

“I see. Work can be a great way to hide from the world.” He handed her the clothing.

“Is that how Brock got to be a billionaire?”

“Clever girl. Go get changed. Call me if you need any help.”

Sarah held the baby pink up to her chin. It was soft and slick, but also flared and swayed when she moved it on the hanger. “This was way too pretty.”

“There’s champagne ready in there. Make sure you have at least two glasses. It’s compulsory in Paris.”

“Yes. Pierre.” Sarah was certain this was the wrong dress for her.

“I’ll go and see to Brock and be back to do your hair and accessorize you.”

Brock. How would he look? Would she be overdressed? Inside the changing room it was so beautiful. The furnishings were lush and the large mirrors lit up like a Hollywood star was arriving any second. Sarah looked at herself. Her hair was messy, and her face looked like she’d just gotten out of bed. Then again, she had.

This makeover would take a miracle. Sarah picked up the fizzing glass of champagne and took a large drink. Then, she finished it off. The alcohol coursed in her veins.
Now, relax and get the gown on.