I chuckled. “Of course I do. I’m a fan of yours too.” Which was the truth. Layne Beckett’s mother had been in the business since Layne was a little girl. Her mother had passed a couple of years before, and just recently Layne was attempting to follow in her mother’s footsteps. She was just as beautiful and talented and was born with an “in” which automatically opened doors for her. Of course, that meant she was currently my main competition, and according to everyone in my circle, was a backstabbing bitch and a cutthroat businesswoman. Which was why I was presently so off-balance. I had not expected…this version of Layne. Was it real or some sort of trick?

“Wow, well you just officially made my night. And I didn’t just say that because these events are tedious and stuffy, and anything might have made this night better.”

I let out a short laugh, surprised by the honesty. These events were tedious and stuffy. And afterward, everyone would gush about how amazing and wonderful it all was, and I’d nod along.

She grinned as I cut off the laugh I’d managed. Layne arched a perfect brow, her gaze moving downward to where my hand was held on my diaphragm as I attempted to push it farther to the center of my body where it had some room to expand. “That’s a Frida Valli, isn’t it?”

Was that the name of the designer who had sent me this dress? When it had arrived unsolicited, Destanie said it was pushy, rolled her eyes, and stuffed it in my closet. “Um, I think so, yes.”

“It’s beautiful. And you probably just made her a star by wearing it tonight. I try to wear up-and-coming designers too. This one just arrived this morning and was made by a nineteen-year-old designer. Gaia Laurent. Remember her name. She’s incredible.” She smiled. “But…can I…can I show you a little trick?” she asked, lowering her voice and looking around before she opened her small evening bag and removed what looked like a sharp hook from a tiny sewing kit.

“Uh…” Was this the part where she tore my dress to shreds like in Cinderella? One could only hope. “Sure.”

“Lift your arms.”

My brows knitted in confusion, but I did as she said, at least as far as I was able. “Some more current designers construct their dresses with this specific stitch… Ah, yes…” She leaned in, using her tool to move down the seam.

I let out a small squeak, but rather than the dress falling apart, it simply opened a little bit, allowing me to take the first full breath since I’d put it on. “Oh my God. I might cry.”

Layne smiled, moving around to the other side where she used her tool to do the same thing to the opposite seam, providing me even more room.