Chapter 1 - The Seventh Dress
Mara clutched the burgundy gown against her chest and whispered:
“Please don’t tell Dominic I brought this back.”
Dominic Serrano stepped from behind the boutique column and saw the wooden hanger in her trembling hands.
A small card was pinned beneath its collar.
Three words were written across it:
“Know your size.”
Dominic suddenly realized this wasn’t about a dress.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Mara Serrano stood beside an open cardboard box in the private fitting area, gripping the glittering burgundy fabric so tightly that her knuckles had turned pale.
Her emerald-green satin dress hugged the body she had spent the last six months learning to hide.
Behind her, Celeste Serrano slowly lowered her hand from her mouth.
Dominic’s older sister had been whispering to Bianca, their cousin, when Dominic stepped from behind the column.
Neither woman had expected him to be there.
That had been their mistake.
Dominic looked first at Mara.
Not at Celeste.
Not at Bianca.
At his wife.
Her cheeks were wet.
Mara quickly wiped them.
“Dominic.”
He had heard fear in men who owed him millions.
He had heard fear in businessmen who discovered too late that they had lied to him.
He had heard fear in enemies who understood exactly whose territory they had entered.
But hearing fear in his wife’s voice was different.
It made something inside him go still.
He walked toward her.
Mara instinctively lowered the gown.
Dominic stopped.
“Why are you hiding it?”
“I’m not.”
“Mara.”
She looked away.
Behind them, Celeste shifted uncomfortably.
“Dominic, perhaps this isn’t the place—”
His eyes moved to her.
Celeste stopped talking.
He reached for the card attached to the gown.
Mara immediately grabbed his wrist.
“No.”
That single word told him more than anything else had.
Dominic looked down at her hand.
She released him.
He removed the card.
Know your size.
The handwriting was unfamiliar.
He turned it over.
Nothing.
“Who gave you this?”
Mara swallowed.
“Nobody.”
Bianca answered too quickly.
“It probably came from the boutique.”
Dominic glanced toward her.
Bianca stood in a burgundy pantsuit with her arms crossed, although the confidence she had displayed moments earlier had disappeared.
“This boutique belongs to a company I own,” Dominic said.
Bianca said nothing.
“My employees don't leave anonymous insults inside dresses.”
“It wasn't an insult,” Celeste said.
Mara closed her eyes.
Dominic noticed.
His voice became quieter.
“What did you say?”
Celeste straightened.
“I said perhaps you're misunderstanding.”
“No. Before I walked over.”
Celeste’s face changed.
Dominic had heard part of it already.
She knew that.
So did Bianca.
He looked at Mara again.
“Why did you return the dress?”
“It didn't fit.”
“You never tried it on.”
Mara’s eyes snapped toward him.
Dominic continued.
“The boutique called my assistant after the third return. They thought they were sending the wrong measurements. I checked.”
Mara stared at him.
“The ivory gown was your size. The navy gown was your size. The black velvet one was your size. The green evening dress was altered specifically for you.”
His voice softened.
“And this one was made for you.”
Mara looked at the burgundy fabric.
“I know.”
“Then why?”
Her mouth trembled.
She hated that.
Mara had always hated crying in front of people.
Dominic knew it.
He moved closer until his body blocked Celeste and Bianca from her view.
“Mara. Look at me.”
She did.
“What happened?”
For a moment, he thought she would finally tell him.
Instead she whispered, “Can we go home?”
Dominic studied her face.
He wanted answers.
But not at the price of forcing them from her in front of the people who had apparently caused this.
He took the gown from her hands.
Mara immediately folded her arms across her stomach.
The movement was small.
Dominic saw it anyway.
She was covering herself.
His wife had never done that around him before.
He felt his anger sharpen.
He handed the gown to an employee who had wisely remained silent near the counter.
“Send this to the house.”
Mara shook her head.
“No.”
Dominic looked at her.
“I don't want it.”
“Why?”
She couldn't answer.
Celeste sighed.
“Dominic, she is uncomfortable. Don't make this worse.”
He turned slowly.
“Worse than what?”
Celeste hesitated.
Bianca stepped forward.
“We were only trying to help her.”
Mara’s face went white.
Dominic stared at Bianca.
“Help my wife do what?”
Bianca glanced at Celeste.
That glance was enough.
Dominic moved beside Mara.
“Tell me.”
Neither woman answered.
Dominic’s hand settled gently against Mara’s shoulder.
She was trembling.
He looked at Celeste.
“My wife returned seven dresses because of you?”
“That's unfair.”
“Then correct me.”
Celeste drew a breath.
“Mara was uncomfortable with the attention those dresses would attract.”
“Who told you that?”
“She did.”
Dominic looked down at Mara.
She said nothing.
Celeste continued.
“You have to understand, Dominic. Your world is difficult. Every gala has cameras. Every charity dinner has photographers. People judge everything.”
“And?”
Celeste hesitated.
Bianca answered.
“And some silhouettes are more flattering than others.”
Mara flinched.
Dominic felt it beneath his hand.
His eyes hardened.
“Flattering to whom?”
Bianca’s expression tightened.
“We're not going to pretend appearances don't matter in this family.”
Dominic almost laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because suddenly the entire thing was becoming painfully clear.
He remembered the first gown.
Deep blue silk.
Mara had smiled when he showed her the photograph.
Three days later she said the neckline felt wrong.
The second was ivory.
She claimed the sleeves bothered her.
The third was black velvet.
She said it was too formal.
Then copper.
Emerald.
Midnight blue.
Every time Dominic had chosen something that celebrated her figure, Mara had found a reason to return it.
He had assumed she simply preferred simpler clothing.
He had never considered that someone had taught her to be ashamed of being seen beside him.
“When did this start?” he asked.
Mara whispered, “Dominic.”
“When?”
“Please.”
He turned her toward him.
His anger vanished from his face when he saw hers.
“This isn't anger at you.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Her silence hurt more than he expected.
Dominic lowered his voice.
“I chose those dresses because every time I saw one, I imagined you wearing it.”
Mara blinked rapidly.
“I thought you were trying to fix me.”
The sentence landed harder than any accusation.
Dominic stared at her.
“Fix you?”
Mara looked toward Celeste.
Celeste immediately looked away.
Dominic understood.
“What did they tell you?”
Mara’s voice broke.
“That you were being polite.”
He said nothing.
“That you knew what people said when we walked into a room. That you kept buying dresses because you hoped eventually I'd understand what looked appropriate on someone married to you.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
“Someone married to me.”
Mara nodded.
“They said women photographed beside men like you needed discipline.”
Dominic looked at Celeste.
Celeste paled.
Mara continued because once the words started, she could no longer contain them.
“They said the first gown made me look desperate for attention. The ivory one made me look bigger. The black one was apparently something a thinner woman could carry.”
Bianca uncrossed her arms.
“Mara, that's not exactly—”
“Stop.”
Dominic barely raised his voice.
Bianca stopped.
Mara stared at the floor.
“The green one?”
Dominic asked.
She gave a broken laugh.
“Celeste said photographers would make jokes.”
Dominic looked at his sister.
Celeste lifted her chin.
“I was protecting her.”
“From whom?”
“The world you brought her into.”
“No.”
His voice remained calm.
“You were protecting your idea of what my wife should look like.”
Celeste’s eyes flashed.
“You don't understand how cruel people can be.”
Dominic stepped closer.
“And your solution was to be cruel first?”
Celeste had no answer.
Mara touched his arm.
“Please. I want to leave.”
Dominic immediately turned back to her.
“All right.”
He took off his suit jacket and placed it around her shoulders.
Mara looked at him in surprise.
“You don't have to cover me.”
His expression changed.
“I know.”
She realized what he meant.
The jacket wasn't there to hide her.
It was comfort.
Nothing more.
Her eyes filled again.
Dominic offered his hand.
She took it.
They had nearly reached the boutique doors when an employee called softly.
“Mr. Serrano?”
Dominic stopped.
The young woman behind the counter looked terrified.
She held a white envelope.
“I think you should see this.”
Celeste suddenly moved.
“That's private.”
Dominic turned.
The employee froze.
So did Mara.
Dominic walked back and took the envelope.
His name was written on the front.
Inside were seven photographs.
Each showed Mara wearing one of the gowns he had bought.
Dominic looked at the first.
Mara standing in a fitting room.
The second.
Mara changing clothes.
The third.
Mara crying.
She stared at the photographs in horror.
“I never knew anyone took these.”
Dominic flipped to the final photograph.
On the back was a date.
And beneath it, one sentence.
THE DRESSES WERE ONLY THE BEGINNING.
Dominic slowly looked toward his sister.
Celeste had gone completely pale.
Then Mara’s phone vibrated.
One new message appeared from an unknown number.
Dominic read the preview.
May you like
DON’T GO HOME.
Someone was already waiting for them.
