Jessica's Guide to Dating on the Dark Side by Beth Fantaskey Page A

sort of thirty-year-old cocktail-party attendee. I laughed out loud. "You really are crazy. That's designed—and priced—for women who do things like go to, I don't know, symphonies or something."
     
    He shot me a look. "What's wrong with the symphony?"
     
    "Nothing. Except that I don't go. I mean, can you see me in that at 4-H? I bet it costs a mint, too."
     
    "Try the dress on."
     
    I pulled back. "No way. I am one hundred percent sure that they don't like teenagers in there."
     
    Lucius scoffed. "They like anyone with enough money."
     
    "Then they won't like me. I don't have enough money even to look."
     
    "I do."
     
    "Lucius . . ." But I'll admit, I was kind of intrigued. It was a beautiful dress. I'd never even tried on anything like it. It was so . . . sophisticated. It was the color of fresh cream, with tiny, black, embroidered flowers scattered here and there across the whole thing, not really in any kind of pattern, but that only made it prettier somehow. It reminded me of chaos theory: random but beautiful in its simplicity. The neckline was more daring than anything I'd ever worn. You could see the swell of the mannequin's plastic breasts peeking out above the fabric. The expensive fabric. I tugged Lucius's arm. "Come on. Let's go."
     
    Lucius pulled back, and of course he was stronger. "Just look. Every woman needs beautiful things."
     
    "I don't need that."
     
    "Of course you do. You could wear it to, say, this 'carnival' you're attending with Squatty Boy. It would be perfectly suitable for affairs like that."
     
    "He's not squatty."
     
    "Try on the dress."
     
    "I have plenty of clothes," I insisted.
     
    "Yes. And you should throw them all out. Especially the T-shirt with the white horse, the heart, and the letter I on the front. What is the purpose?"
     
    "To show that I love Arabians," I said.
     
    "I love rare steak, but I don't sport the image of raw beef on my chest."
     
    "I already picked out an outfit."
     
    Lucius scowled. "Something shiny from 'the mall,' I suppose?"
     
    I flushed. I hated when Lucius was right.
     
    "Believe me," he said. "If you wear that dress, you won't regret it. That was made for you."
     
    I narrowed my eyes. "How do you know about dressing girls?"
     
    "I don't know about dressing girls. I know about dressing women." Lucius smiled archly. "Now come along. Indulge me."
     
    Lucius led the way into the store, and I had to follow. As I'd predicted, the sales lady looked less than thrilled to see two high school students in her showroom. But Lucius was oblivious. "That dress in the window, with the embroidery." He pointed to me. "She'd like to try that." Crossing his arms and leaning back slightly, he mentally measured my body, head to toe. "Size eight?"
     
    "Ten," I mumbled.
     
    "The ten is in the window on the mannequin," the saleswoman noted. She jammed her skinny, red-fingernailed hands on her hips. "It's very troublesome to bring it down. If you're not serious about it. . ."
     
    Uh-oh. There wasn't much that I understood about Lucius Vladescu, but I knew for a fact that the saleslady's tone would not sit well with him.
     
    Lucius arched an eyebrow. "Did I not sound serious?" He leaned forward, reading the woman's name tag. "Leigh Ann?"
     
    "Come on, Lucius ..." I started for the door.
     
    "We're in rather a hurry, so if you could get it now, please," Lucius said, holding his ground. It was suddenly very easy to imagine him ordering around servants in a castle.
     
    The saleswoman narrowed her eyes, assessing Lucius. Apparently she sniffed at least a hint of money in his cologne, heard it in his accent, or saw it in his swagger. "Fine," she huffed. "If you insist." She crawled up into the window and came back out a few minutes later with the dress. "Here," she said, draping it across my arms. "The dressing rooms are in the rear.
     
    "Thank you," Lucius said.
     
    "Whatever." Leigh Ann moved behind the counter, proceeding to ignore us.
     
    Lucius followed