Chapter 4
“I washed it!” Cordelia exclaimed, her voice hurried. “I promise it’s clean! There’s nothing wrong with it!”
The sales assistant scoffed, her eyes narrowing. “You washed it?” she mocked. “Why would you wash it when you only rented it for a day? You rented it for your wedding, not to work on a farm, right?”
Cordelia’s face flushed with embarrassment.
In truth, the conditions of her wedding had been closer to that of farming than anything else. She had walked down muddy village paths in the rain, ruining the pristine white of her wedding dress and shoes, while her feet had chafed terribly.
The sales assistant angrily flipped the skirt of the dress, inspecting it closely. “Miss, even if you washed this dress yourself, you should’ve dry-cleaned it. Do you even know what dry cleaning is?”
Her tone dripped with sarcasm as she eyed Cordelia, clearly amused by her ignorance. “Sigh… our wedding gowns have been sold out one after another since we opened. This is the first time we’ve rented one… Hah, if you can’t even afford a proper dress, maybe you shouldn’t be getting married.”
Cordelia’s patience snapped. “Is there a law against getting married without buying a wedding dress?” she shot back, her voice firm.
She was startled when she heard a sudden, stern voice behind her. Turning, she saw Marcus stepping into the boutique. The air around him seemed to grow colder, his presence authoritative and commanding.
A frown tugged at his lips as he approached Cordelia, wrapping an arm around her waist as though to shield her from the sales assistant’s mocking gaze. He glared at the woman. “Do you really think people are too blind to see the ‘wedding dresses for rent’ sign hanging outside your shop?”
The sales assistant sputtered, clearly caught off guard. “You—”
Marcus wasn’t finished. “And besides, the dresses you have here are quite average. Not impressive at all,” he added dismissively, his eyes scanning the boutique.
The sales assistant’s eyes rolled in exasperation. “Just admit it—you can’t afford one! You’re picking a fight with us over this… Hah! We even have designer haute couture here!”
Marcus raised an eyebrow as he glanced at the center of the room, where a stunning fishtail dress shimmered under the light. It was intricately designed, with golden thread woven into the fabric and scattered diamonds adorning the chest area. The dress stood out, but Marcus had seen far more impressive designs in the past.
“Ha! Stop eyeing that dress,” the sales assistant sneered. “You won’t be able to afford it no matter how much you look! Honestly, miss, it’s a shame. You’re so pretty, but you didn’t pick a good dress for your wedding. What a waste of a pretty face.”
Cordelia’s cheeks flushed, but she stood her ground, stepping forward to face the assistant with a fire in her eyes. “What’s between my husband and me is none of your business!” she retorted sharply.
Marcus was taken aback by her words. This was not the docile woman he’d expected—she was standing up for herself now.
“I said apologize to my husband!” Cordelia repeated, her voice full of resolve.
The sales assistant rolled her eyes and scoffed, completely ignoring her.
Marcus smirked and shook his head. “I don’t need an apology,” he said, turning to Cordelia with a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Do you like that wedding dress?”
Cordelia glanced at him, confused, following the direction of his finger. Her gaze landed on the dress in question, and for a moment, she was mesmerized by its beauty. But she didn’t quite understand what Marcus was getting at.
With a sly grin, Marcus pulled out a credit card and placed it on the counter. “My wife likes that dress. I’ll take it.”
The air in the boutique seemed to freeze. The sales assistant’s eyes widened in shock, and Cordelia stood speechless.
“Marcus, what are you doing?” she whispered, tugging at his sleeve. “We’re already married.”
He shrugged, unfazed. “We can still get one as a keepsake. That dress is haute couture, so it requires a fitting. Do you have someone here who can do that?”
The sales assistant snapped out of her shock and put on a forced, eager smile. She clasped her hands together, bowing respectfully. “Sir, are you really going to take it?”
“Yes,” Marcus replied coolly. “Take my wife’s measurements now.”
The sales assistant’s eyes widened further. “I’ll call the designer, then…”
Marcus raised an eyebrow. “Can’t you do it?”
The sales assistant stiffened, her nerves palpable. The tension in the air was thick, but she had no choice. This man was clearly used to getting what he wanted. She retrieved the measuring tape and moved toward Cordelia.
“Miss, I’ll—”
“Will you be able to measure the skirt like that?” Marcus interrupted with a scoff, his dark gaze locking onto the sales assistant.
She froze, unsure of how to respond.
“To measure the skirt, you have to get on your knees,” he added with a smirk.