Chapter 5 - A Midnight Wardrobe and Dangerous Secrets
The black Mercedes glided away from the financial district, cutting through the damp, neon-lit avenues of the city until it pulled up in front of a towering glass boutique near Fifth Avenue.
The storefront was completely dark, closed hours ago to the general public.
Yet, as Viktor stepped out and opened my door, the heavy glass doors swung open automatically.
A row of impeccably dressed attendants stood inside, surrounded by rolling racks of designer dresses, glittering jewelry cases, and shelves of handmade Italian shoes.
“Viktor, we can’t be here,” I whispered, pulling his heavy jacket closer as I stepped inside the opulent showroom. “It’s past midnight. The store is closed.”
“Stores close for customers,” Viktor said calmly, walking beside me with his hands tucked casually into his trouser pockets. “They open for friends.”
An older man with silver hair and sharp Italian tailoring hurried forward, bowing slightly as he approached Viktor.
“Mr. Kozlov. We received your message. Everything is prepared.”
“Good, Marco,” Viktor nodded. He gestured toward me. “Dress her. From head to toe. Whatever catches her eye, whatever fits her spirit. Spare nothing.”
Marco turned his discerning eyes toward me, evaluating my soaked canvas shoes, damp hair, and cheap blouse with professional precision.
Instead of disdain, his eyes lit up with artistic appreciation.
“Ah. A natural canvas. Come with me, signorina.”
For the next hour, I was swept into a whirlwind of silk, lace, velvet, and diamonds.
Marco and his assistants fluttered around me like helpful spirits, dressing me in garments I had previously only admired from outside luxury windows on my lunch breaks.
When I finally stepped out of the fitting room, wearing a deep emerald-green silk evening gown that hugged my curves and cascaded down to silver strappy heels, I barely recognized the woman in the three-way mirror.
The smudged mascara was gone.
My hair had been professionally styled into soft, cascading waves.
The emerald dress caught the ambient lighting, making my eyes look striking and alive.
I stepped out into the main showroom where Viktor stood waiting, leaning against a marble pillar with a glass of scotch in his hand.
When he looked up, his breath visibly caught.
The cold, calculated mob boss facade vanished completely, replaced by raw, unadulterated awe.
He set his glass down slowly and walked toward me, his heavy footsteps echoing softly on the marble floor.
He stopped just inches away, his dark eyes tracing the lines of the dress, moving up to my face.
“Magnificent,” he breathed, his voice dropping an octave. “The dress was expensive, Marco, but on her, it is underpriced.”
Marco beamed proudly, bowing before retreating into the back offices with his staff, leaving us entirely alone in the glittering showroom.
“You look like a queen, Sarah,” Viktor whispered, his hand coming up to gently trace my jawline. His skin was warm, his touch electric. “Never let anyone make you feel small again. Do you understand?”
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“I… I understand,” I whispered back, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
“Good,” he smiled, stepping back and offering his arm. “Because now that you look the part, it’s time to introduce you to the rest of New York. The people who actually matter.”
