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Twenty Three
"I called my stylist today." Mariano said nonchalantly as he drove.
I turned away from the traffic at my right to look at him.
Of course he had a fucking stylist.
"Okay?"
"Yes. He'll accompany us when we buy your dress for this Friday."
Oh yeah?
"I think I'll wear the dress I wore at my sister's wedding. Its very pretty." I said. "And not too extravagant."
"No, Isabelle." He smiled, but his tone rang of finality. "I'm going to buy you a dress. You'll look stunning in red, I think."
"I'll pay for it."
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