Fallen Actress' Comeback: Torn Between the Director and the Mafia Lord-Chapter 29: Fitting Room

Chapter 29

~Xena’s POV~

My eyes did another proper size-up of the outfit, wanting to see the beauty and compare its worth.

"Don’t just stand there, like some lost wild flower. You can explore," Xade’s voice broke me from my thought.

Before I could argue, racks rolled forward. I blinked at the sea of silk, neutrual tones, tailored pieces, dresses, jumpsuits, all luxurious and way out of my league, but looked like... his.

Without waiting for me to wonder about the designer outfits, Xade pointed. "Try them."

"I can choose myself."

"No," he corrected, "you’ll choose terribly. I’ll choose, and you’ll try them on."

"But I am the one wearing it."

"And look at where your poor choices have left you," he retorted.

"Fine, which ones first then?"

"All."

"What?"

"No arguing. Go."

I scowled. "I’m not a mannequin."

"You’re worse," Xade stated calmly. "You’re stubborn."

"Wow. And yet you dragged me here."

He leaned down slightly, to my surprise, a smirk tugged at his lips. "You’re welcome, kitty."

My pulse jumped. I started walking before my face gave me away.

I muttered ’bighead’ before rolling my eyes. "You’re unbelievable."

"You have no idea."

I rolled my eyes again and snatched the first outfit he shoved at me. "Fine. I’m going."

The private fitting room was huge — mirrors everywhere, warm lights making the fabric glow. I slipped into the first dress, a sleek black number hugging every curve I owned.

It was beautiful but bold.

I stepped out, unsure of what to make of this. "Okay, but... don’t laugh."

The two staff gasped softly; unfortunately, Xade didn’t. He simply stared for long and slowly, like he was committing every inch of me to memory.

"Turn." His voice was lower than before.

I swallowed and turned. The fabric moved with me.

When I faced him again, he had gotten up from where he sat and stepped closer, too close, and lifted the strap that had slipped slowly. His fingers grazed my skin, stealing my breath.

I swallowed when he stopped and stepped back.

"It’s loose," he murmured.

A shiver crept up my arm. "Not my fault," I whispered.

His eyes held mine for one long, hot second.

Then: "Next."

I hurried inside before I combusted on the spot, my hands pressed against my chest.

"What was going on with me?"

The next dress, a red silk open-backed dress, was worse. It left my whole spine exposed, and the zipper fought me like it had a personal vendetta.

I tried again, but failed. "Come on..."

Just then, I heard the attendant call softly. "Director, she might need assis..."

"No," I cut in fast. "No one needs to help me. I can zip it on my own, just give me a sec."

The attendant hesitated. Then whispered by the curtain, "I’m sorry, ma’am. But Mr. Michael doesn’t like his women being touched."

I froze. "His women?"

My chest jerked. Then I scoffed and shook my head. "I am not his woman. He wouldn’t mind."

She glanced toward the small gap in the curtain where Xade stood, arms crossed, tension radiating off him.

"I’m sorry," she whispered again. "I really can’t."

I sighed and peeked through the gap.

"So..." I said quietly, folding my arms and facing him. "You’re a regular here. Should I be wondering how many women you’ve taken shopping?"

Xade didn’t even look embarrassed. He smirked. "What? You jealous?"

"No. Curious." His eyebrow lifted. "Okay, fine," I muttered. "Not jealous." I just don’t want to be labelled ’your woman’ when I’m not. Who knows what angry girlfriend is lurking."

His lips twitched. "Scared then?"

Before I could answer, the curtain slid open.

Xade stepped inside like he owned oxygen itself. I wanted to protest or call for help when I noticed the attendant walking away and excusing herself.

I looked up at him. He had that ’try and see’ smirk on his face, like he’d won.

"Turn," he ordered.

"I can zip it my..."

"You can’t."

He reached for the zipper, and I froze.

His fingers brushed my bare spine, and the warmth of his touch shot straight down my back. The zipper moved inch by inch, the sound embarrassingly loud in the quiet space.

I held my breath without meaning to.

His touch was warm, each inch of contact sending tiny sparks across my skin. The warmth from his chest hovered just behind me, close enough that I could feel his breath brush my shoulder every time he exhaled.

I didn’t trust myself to move, breathe or even exist.

"Breathe," he murmured behind me.

"I... am," My voice was barely there.

When the zipper reached the top, his fingers stilled... but he didn’t step back. Instead, his hand stayed on my waist, thumb resting against my skin right where the fabric dipped.

My heart thudded like it was trying to break out of my ribs at the closeness.

Heat crawled up my neck. My face was absolutely red. Xade could probably feel the rise and fall of my breathing under his hand.

I swallowed hard and turned around to face him. I was too fast and ended up getting my foot under the hem of the dress without warning.

My ankle wobbled, and my balance slipped. In the space of a single heartbeat, I fell forward.

Xade reacted instantly.

His hands closed around my arms, pulling me upright firmly, which made my stomach flip, but because he pulled me up while I was still falling forward... my face lifted at the same moment his dipped.

Our lips collided.

Just a soft, shockingly warm press, brief but deep enough to steal every breath out of my lungs.

My fingers curled into his suit jacket in panic, and his grip tightened instinctively, keeping me close for a second too long.

Long enough to feel the warmth of his mouth. Long enough to hear the faint sound he made in his throat — low, restrained, almost pained.

Both of us froze, as if finally realising what had happened.

I jerked back first, heart pounding wildly against my ribs, as my face burned hotter.

"That," I breathed out, shaking my head like I could undo it. "No. That didn’t happen."

Xade’s chest rose and fell once, before controlling it, but his blue eyes glinted as they stayed locked on mine.

"It did," he said quietly.

I stepped back again, because standing any closer might have melted me into the floor. "You just caught me. It was an accident."

His gaze dropped briefly to my lips. Just for a fraction of a second, but I felt it everywhere.

"Mm," he murmured. "If you say so."

My face heated even more, because I didn’t know what bothered me more, that he wasn’t denying it... or that he wasn’t apologizing either.

I forced myself to look away. "Yes. It didn’t, and even if it did, it wasn’t special. I’m sure you’ve done this with other women you brought here."

That got him.

He slowly lifted his head, eyes sharpening as something dangerous and hurt flickered through them.

His jaw tightened. "Is that what you think?"

And suddenly... I wasn’t sure of anything at all.

"I don’t know what to think!" I whispered harshly. "And I’m not going to start making assumptions for you."

He stepped closer. "Then stop running from what’s in front of you."

"I’m not..."

"Yes. You are," he said in a deep, restrained voice. "And I’m going to prove it."

Before I could react, he cupped my chin, leaned in and kissed me.