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Paris
Chapter Eight

Paris really was the city of romance and Ciara was reminded of it every stinking second.

‘You’re messing with our karma, Cia,’ Elle said, but despite the words her friend didn’t look annoyed with her. Her eyes were almost as sad as Ciara felt.

‘I’m sorry. No more moping, I promise.’ She sipped at the red wine they’d ordered in a small bar not far from the designer shops both Gem and Elle had dragged her around.

Beneath the table were all her friends’ bags with so many new clothes that they were going to have to pay another excess weight fee at the airport when they left for their next stop.

‘You know the best way to get over a guy is to get under another,’ Gem pointed out. ‘We’re going to the club tonight. Maybe we’ll meet a trio of gorgeous Frenchmen.’

Ciara forced a smile, feigning excitement. Elle’s sharp look told her it was a wasted effort. After a few tears had appeared when they got to Miami International, her friends hadn’t taken her gaze off her since. Pretending to sleep for the whole flight just to get the attention off her hadn’t worked. It just made them more determined to cheer her up.

‘I don’t think that’s what she needs, Gem.’ Elle reached into her purse and pulled out a couple of notes, then left them on the table. ‘But I have an idea.’

‘Oh hell, what now?’ Her mind was too busy churning through the possibilities that she didn’t even moan at Elle for paying the bill.

‘Where are we going?’ Gem asked when Elle picked up her bags.

‘You’ll see. I didn’t waste all that effort getting us into Le Baron for Ciara to wear a face like that all night.’

‘Thanks Elle,’ she murmured dryly. Then something clicked. ‘Wait, isn’t that the private club the Russian mafia lords drink in?’

She’d googled the night life in Paris before her shopping trip in Miami to try and figure out what to buy with her vouchers, and La Baron was one of the clubs she remembered, just not for the right reasons.

Elle laughed. ‘It used to be, but it’s under new management now. Relax.’

‘So why did it take so much effort to get in?’ she asked as they started off down the street.

‘Because it’s private. And exclusive. I want to go. Obviously.’

There really was no stopping her friend when the chin tilt appeared so she sighed and gave in for the moment. It didn’t take Elle long until they got to their destination and Ciara couldn’t stop her chin from dropping. Two windows showcasing sleek, black dresses would have been enough to stop her in her tracks, but above that and the door a black metal balcony with gold letters stunned her.

Elle was taking them to Givenchy, knowing how much Ciara loved the black dress she borrowed from Elle for a spring dance a few years before. But this was just cruel. Taking her to a shop that she couldn’t even afford a scarf in.

‘Come on,’ Elle said, pulling her toward the door.

‘I can’t go in there.’ Ciara tried to wrestle her arm back.

‘You’re going alright. Gem, get her other arm!’

They had such a tight hold on her that struggling wasn’t just humiliating in front of all the passers by, but totally pointless. Strong-arming her into the shop can’t have been easy with her wriggling and the bags they were already carrying, but they did a better job than she could have.

‘I hate you for this! Both of you!’ she hissed, closing her eyes to make it hurt less. If she saw any of the dresses, the accessories, she’d be saying ‘bye, bye’ to the rest of her money.

‘You’re going to love me soon,’ Elle said, not even out of bloody breath!

‘What, when I’m penniless and on the next flight to Dublin? I doubt it.’

A woman’s voice asked in French if they needed assistance, but her lessons from high school failed her as she couldn’t remember how to say ‘yes, call the feckin’ guards.’

Elle answered in fluent French, making Ciara hate her even more. Then she was being dragged again and in a bid to end this madness, she planted her feet and refused to budge.

She should have known that wouldn’t stop Elle.

‘Drop the bags. We’ll pick this cry baby up and carry her to the changing rooms,’ Elle said to Gem.

As her feet left the ground she did the most stupid thing ever and opened her eyes.

They were in a rectangular room, all grays and white but that wasn’t what drew her attention. It was the minimalistic clothes hung on rails in the indentation from the walls. Dark, plain, simple and oh so pretty.

Little black jackets hung next to the matching white blouses and leather skinny jeans. The next alcove had sleek, knee length skirts and a blouse with a daring strip of red below the bust. But the loveliest, most elegant black dress draped over a mannequin with so much effortless grace stole all her attention. Her anger evaporated and she sagged against Elle, needing the support.

‘Think we’ve found a winner,’ Gem said, lowering her friend back to the floor.

Such a bittersweet feeling, seeing something she wanted so much and knowing she could never ever have it for real. She’d been having that feeling a lot lately.

Elle started up again with the French, so fast she didn’t understand and then they both dragged her away from the dress. The swell of disappointment made her too weak to fight back, and she stared at the prettiest thing in the world until it was out of sight, just to make sure it was ingrained in her memory.

Gem shoved her into the dressing room and she sagged onto the sofa, feeling even more miserable than she had an hour ago.

‘You’re going to make me strip you too, aren’t you?’ Gem said, then without much of a pause got to work on doing just that. ‘Just so you know, this isn’t gay in the slightest.’

Ciara didn’t care what it was as she let her so called friend strip her top off then her jeans.

‘This has to go too, sorry.’ Gem unclipped her bra and pulled it off her arms. ‘You do have a nice pair, but not nice enough to turn me off the dicks for good.’

She knew Gem was trying to make her laugh, but her eyes watered instead. God, it was like she was grieving. For Zack first and now for the prettiest dress in the world.

The curtain parted to show Elle with a hand full of hangers. ‘Shit, Gem. I didn’t tell you to molest her.’

‘I didn’t, I just got her ready. Do you have it?’ Gem asked.

Ciara couldn’t care less what they were talking about. She knew it would only mean more torture. At least there weren’t mirrors here. She could look at the panel without seeing her despair or catching a glimpse of them.

‘This is ridiculous, Ciara. You should be excited, not acting like someone died,’ Elle said. She thrust something at Gem, then pulled Ciara onto her feet. ‘Don’t make me slap you. I will.’

Like she cared either way.

‘This is totally unnecessary,’ Elle huffed, but then turned her around. ‘Hold up your arms.’

They weren’t going to leave her alone until they’d had her way, then she could go back to the massive house and lock herself in her room until they were ready to leave this horrible city.

Ciara lifted her arms and closed her eyes. Satin fabric fell down over her body effortlessly, with nothing but a thick strap over one of her shoulders. She wouldn’t open her eyes and look, this was bad enough. The soft dress skimmed her curves, all the way down to her knees making her tingle and yearn.

She was turned around again and pushed forward a few steps.

‘This is the one,’ Elle said.

‘I’ll say. Wow, Ciara. You look like a model,’ Gem gushed.

Ciara didn’t dare look. She couldn’t trust herself to hold it together if she got a flash of reflection. Her imagination was already running riot.

‘You know, I’m trying to do something nice for you and here you are, being an ungrateful bitch.’

Ciara did lose it then, but not in the way she’d feared. As soon as Elle had spoken, anger flared through her, burning away all the hurt and she did open her eyes, but the image of her in the prettiest dress in the world didn’t soothe her.

She whirled on Elle. ‘How is this nice? You know I can’t afford Givenchy but you dragged me in here anyway, torturing me with more things I can’t have! As if leaving Miami wasn’t bad enough, now you want to show me how fucking amazing I look in this dress, knowing I’m going to have to walk out of here without it? You’re the bitch, Elle.’