“Si. He has fabulous taste, Signor Stone, does he not?” the manager questioned as she wrapped it in tissue paper in a box.
“Excellent.” I faked a smile. “What did you mean a moment ago? I wasn’t what you were expecting?”
Silently, she placed the lid down and slipped it into a bag. “The dress is charged to Signor Stone’s account. I’m sure you will look wonderful, signora.”
“What did you mean?” My voice was harder as I pushed it.
She gave me a smile, one lined with the bitchiness she hadn’t hidden since she approached me. “Forgive me. It was a slip of the tongue.”
She disappeared, leavi
