Of course the universe would send me a judgmental fairy godmother, Ivy thought. But if I’d known I would be wearing a ball gown this week, I might have cut back on the chocolate.
Or not. She always kept a bowl of chocolate Kisses beside her computer. They helped her think. And one day she planned to work off the extra calories at the gym. When she found the time to join a gym…
Though she might have a lot of extra time on her hands if she failed to secure the funds required for the next stage of her research.
“Mr. Lewis can make small adjustments while you have your hair and makeup done,” Mrs. Lindsey continued. “But I’m afraid we don’t have time for more than a few stitches.”
In that case, I hope it fits, too.
One look at the flowing, semi-sheer silver dress and the word “funding” vanished from her vocabulary—for now. She knew that after she wiggled into the dress, polished her tired fingers, and let the hairstylist work her magic, she could use the new and improved version of herself to request more money from her billionaire boss. If he could afford a makeup team on a moment’s notice, then he could fund a clinical trial.
Of course, Carter Burke might keep his makeover posse ready and waiting to transform the random women who walked into his office. Maybe instead of golfing or yachting, he dedicated his leisure time to fulfilling women’s Cinderella fantasies.
Once upon a time, I dreamed about wearing dresses like this Marchesa…
Then she’d turned ten and set her ambitions for medical school. After graduation, she’d thrown herself into medical research with a single-minded focus. But wouldn’t it be nice to wear a dress like that just this once? Plus, if she refused to try it on, she wouldn’t have a chance to speak with Mr. Burke again.
She glanced at the shining fabric as it caught the light, and reached out to touch the magical tulle—and found a hanger thrust into her fingers.
“The bedroom is through those doors,” Mrs. Lindsey said with a sharp nod. “I will send Mr. Lewis in once you are dressed.”
Ivy walked into the bedroom with a fresh wave of guilt hot on her heels. Any second now Mrs. Lindsey would march into the room and explain that her billionaire boss made a mistake. Then her sharp-tongued fairy godmother would take the Marchesa, and demand that she leave.
She carefully placed the gown on the bed and began stripping off her clothes. She wanted to at least try on the dress before they escorted her out of the hotel. After years of studying, working, scraping by as she cared for her sick father, as she buried him and then lost herself in her research—after all of that work and worry, she’d landed in a fairy tale. She might be kicked out before midnight, but she would try on the dress.
Ivy stepped into the gown and drew the fabric up and over her hips. The fit was snug, but not tight. She slipped her arm through the single loop. Then she carefully zipped up the side closure and turned to the freestanding oval mirror.
Oh, my…
An asymmetrical cutout nestled between her breasts. A band of shimmering fabric hugged her waist. A train of tulle floated behind her, blooming from her right shoulder. And she could just see the outline of her legs through
the skirt’s almost transparent, flowing layers.
Any minute Mr. Burke will figure out his mistake and I will have to leave this gown behind. I’ll have to tell myself that it’s just a dress. But this dress has a name.
She ran her hands over the skirt that moved as if it were an extension of her own body. The gown felt like hope and sparkled as if it were lined with the promise of adventure. She could be anyone in this dress—even a billionaire’s date.
Impossible. I’m here for…
She glanced at her reflection in the mirror. She was here to fight for her hopes and dreams. And tonight those dreams included the Marchesa.
Chapter 5
The look in Carter Burke’s eyes was the whip cream on top of her fairy-tale fantasy. He stood in the center of the empty suite and stared at her transformation. And she didn’t see a hint of surprise. Instead, his full lips curved into a smile that said, Come with me, princess. We’re skipping the ball.
He slipped his hands into his tux pockets and walked over to a pair of champagne flutes standing on top of a marble table set. “You look stunning, Ms. Grant.”
I feel like a princess, she thought.
“It’s the gown.” She glanced down and ran her hands over the sparkling skirt.
“Hmm,” he murmured and reached for the flutes. “Champagne?”
“Yes.” She took the glass from his hand. Her fingers brushed his and her eyes widened. But then she set her jaw and raised her flute in the air. “Cheers.”
She took a small sip and lowered the bubbly drink. She held the glass in one hand while the other tapped the delicate flute. Part of her wanted to follow him down the path labeled Fairy Tale. But would Carter Burke really increase her funding after she had deceived him like this? This whole fairy tale was clearly meant for someone else. And earlier, in his office, he hadn’t given her a chance to explain her presence. Now, they were alone in the suite. She had to tell him the truth. “Sir—”
“Carter.”