The Affair

A younger associate peeked her head into the door and asked Emma what she’d like to drink.

“Nothing, thank you,” she told the young blond woman, a little flustered at the unexpected question.

“Bring her a tea service, please, and me as well,” Va

“I’ll wait for you out there,” he told Emma, pointing to the lavish sitting area that was part of the lounge. They’d passed it on the way in, so she knew to what he referred. He directed his attention to Sophia. “Please bring her out so that I can see the ones that are worthwhile.”

“Of course, Mr. Montand. I’ll be right back with some selections for you to start on,” Sophia told Emma. “Just have a seat and relax.”

The young blond salesgirl returned first, carrying not a cup of tea, but an entire service including a pot of tea, a tiered tray of small sandwiches, fruit, scones, jam and cream, and a glass of champagne. Despite Emma’s awkwardness in the surroundings, she realized she was hungry and sampled one of the sandwiches and then a strawberry. A few minutes later, she sat on the couch with the teacup in her hand and a scone melting on her tongue, watching wide-eyed as Sophia breezed in with an armful of dresses.

“What about this one first?” she asked Emma, holding up a stu

“Is there a chip in the dress?” she asked Sophia, standing.

Sophia gri

And the store likes to see their merchandise purchased, Emma thought amusedly as she began to shuck off her clothes. It was a brilliant sales maneuver. How many customers actually pictured themselves in the gorgeous model’s shoes when they do

She suddenly wished she’d put on a fancier bra and underwear set when she’d set out on what she thought would be a solitary, run-of-the-mill trip downtown this morning. Little had she guessed her solo trip to Macy’s would end up like this.

“Oh my goodness,” Sophia said, eyes going wide as she turned from hanging some dresses on a rack. At the woman’s exclamation, Emma cringed where she stood in her bra and underwear. Were her undergarments that bad? Then she realized where the woman stared and her hand flew to her throat. “Is that a Prisatti angel?” Sophia asked, her tone hushed and thick with awe.

“I . . . I don’t know. It’s a petit ange. It was a gift,” Emma said, letting her hand fall.

Sophia met her stare, a smile starting on her mouth. “From him?” she asked, glancing sideways in the direction of the sitting room where Va

“Yes.”

Sophia gave her a lucky you smile. “It’s a Prisatti angel. They’re extremely rare, handmade by a man named Angelo Prisatti, an Italian jeweler who lives in France. He only makes a few a year, the metalwork and etching is exquisitely detailed, even under a microscope. Prisatti insists on approving of the wearer himself. Their spirit has to match the essence of the piece he makes . . . match up to his standards, in other words. Otherwise, you’d see every spoiled rich girl in the world wearing one.”

“I’ve never met him,” Emma said. “Maybe it’s not a Prisatti angel, after all.”

“He must have altered his expectations for Montand,” Sophia said with a knowing smile. “Because that’s definitely a Prisatti angel.”

Emma absorbed this amazing bit of news. It didn’t surprise her that it was an extremely valuable necklace—she could have guessed that just by its unique, delicate beauty. What bewildered her was why Va

As the rack in the huge, ornate dressing room began to fill with not just dozens of dresses, but resort wear, hats, shoes, belts, and accessories, Emma’s confusion about Va

“I really just need a dress and maybe a swimsuit,” Emma told Sophia uncomfortably.

“These are the items Mr. Montand indicated,” the woman overrode her with pleasant politeness. “Here, let me help you with that,” she said, moving behind Emma to zip up the gorgeous creation she’d just put on—a stu

. . . fantastic in it.

“Oh my,” Sophia said, stepping back and gri

Emma’s cheeks went hot, but she followed a beaming Sophia out of the dressing room. Va

“Well? Stu

Va

“Well?” Emma asked when he didn’t say anything.

“That one. Definitely that one,” he said, his mouth set in a rigid line as he went back to his reading.

Sophia looked ebullient as she gave Emma a wink. With a sinking feeling, Emma thought she knew why. Emma had cringed upon seeing the price tag on the dress.

She would have thought she’d blush less each time Sophia indicated the outfit was worthy for Va

She walked toward him wearing a fantastic ivory cocktail dress that gave the illusion of transparency without actually being sheer, along with several ropes of pearls and matching pumps. Emma especially loved this one. It was an updated, sexier version of something a glamorous 1920s flapper heiress might wear on a jaunt across Europe. Va

“That’s it,” he told Sophia briskly, his mouth hard. “We’ll take them.”

“Which ones, Mr. Montand?” Sophia asked eagerly.

“All of the ones I’ve seen.”

“Va

“Did you bring her swimwear and lingerie?” Va

“Yes, sir.”

“Choose several weeks’ worth of items for her. We’ll take one of the swimsuits now, but have the rest delivered to this address,” he said, handing Sophia a business card and what appeared to be a credit card.

Emma gave him a helpless, a