“No, you may not,” Paul replied.
On the third floor, Ms. Bak gestured toward a shop window. She stood at the entrance to the shop and told Paul to call her over if he needed anything. Paul ventured inside and Mia followed suit.
“It’s a nice idea to give Kyong a dress, but she probably would’ve preferred one from Paris!”
“I know. I didn’t think of it.”
“Let’s try to make up for it straightaway. Do you know her size or measurements?”
“I’d say same as yours, more or less.”
“Oh, really? I pictured her shorter, and a bit chubbier, to be honest . . .”
Mia looked around and then headed toward some shelves.
“This skirt is pretty. So are these trousers. A lovely top over here, and oh—there’s another. Three perfect sweaters, easy as cake, and voilà—a wonderful evening dress.”
“You must have been a costume designer in another life,” Paul said, amazed at the speed with which Mia had picked out the items.
“Oh, come now,” she replied, “I just have taste.”
Paul took all the clothes Mia had chosen and carried them over to one of the fitting rooms.
“Now, if you don’t mind . . . ,” he said, pulling back the curtain.
“Ah, the lengths a good assistant will go to for her boss,” Mia said, grabbing the clothes.
She went into the fitting room, closed the curtain, and reemerged a few minutes later wearing the first outfit. She twirled around like a model, a fake smile plastered on her face.
“Exquisite, perfect,” said Paul. “Let’s have a look at the next one.”
Mia tried it on reluctantly.
Paul looked on, undecided, as Mia went back into the fitting room and came out again wearing another sweater. He went to get a black dress that he liked a lot and passed it over the curtain.
“You don’t think it’s a bit tight?” Mia asked.
“Try it on. We’ll see.”
“Actually, it’s . . . beautiful. You were right,” Mia admitted, coming out of the dressing room.
“I know. See? You’re not the only one with taste.”
After one more change of clothes, Paul found the perfect outfit. While Mia got dressed, he went to the counter to pay, then rejoined Ms. Bak at the entrance to the shop. Mia came out of the fitting room and watched them from a distance.
“My God, who does he think he is? A few fans waiting for him at the airport, and it’s gone straight to his head. You want to play superstar, my friend? I’ll give you a run for your money,” she muttered as she walked up to them.
“Back to the hotel?” he asked.
“A little ‘thank you’ wouldn’t hurt.”
“Thank you,” said Paul, stepping onto the escalator.
“Are you hoping to charm your translator with two dresses?” Mia asked.
“Not to mention a skirt, three sweaters, two pairs of pants, and two tops.”
“A miniature Eiffel Tower would have done the trick. At least that would have shown you didn’t forget about it until the last minute.”
They went back to their hotel room without exchanging another word. Paul lay down on the right side of the bed, hands behind his head.
“With your shoes on? Really!” Mia cried.
“They’re not even touching the duvet itself.”
“Take them off.”
“What time are they coming to get us?”
“Want to know? You can get up and check your junket schedule.”
“That’s a funny term. What am I, a movie star?”
“Can a lowly waitress not employ such an advanced term?”
“Whoa! Calm down. I’m the one who’s supposed to be nervous, not you.”
“Me, me, me—that’s all you’ve talked about since we got here! Go and be nervous by yourself. And you can accompany yourself to that dinner party too, while you’re at it. I haven’t got a single thing to wear, so I’ll have to decline.”
“Actually, I’d say you’ve got a hell of a selection. I bought those clothes for you. Did you really think I was hoping to seduce Kyong by showering her with gifts? That would just be . . . vulgar. Does that sound anything like me?”
No. It sounds like David . . . “Well, that’s very kind of you, but I couldn’t possibly accept. There’s no reason for me to—”
“Yes, there is, and you just admitted it yourself. You’re not going to wear the same clothes this whole trip, are you?”
“I’ll go and buy some tomorrow.”
“Mia, come on. Wasn’t buying the plane ticket crazy enough? I mean, look, you held my hand on the plane—my very clammy hand—and bailed me out on the car ride by reining in my chatterbox editor. If it weren’t for you, I’d be a total wreck right now, in the fetal position in a dreary suite in a dreary hotel in a foreign city on the other side of the world. There are no strings attached—hang those up on your side of the closet, pick something out to wear, but maybe keep the black dress for the embassy.”
“I’ll have to insist on paying you back. These must have cost a fortune.”
“It wasn’t me, it was Cristoneli—I squeezed an astronomical advance out of him before agreeing to take this trip.”
Mia took one of the bags into the bathroom. “I’ll let you put the rest away. Seems I have to get ready.”
When she came out, a half hour later, Paul thought she looked even more beautiful than she had back at the store, and still with barely any makeup on.
“So?” she asked.
Stunning.
“Not bad. It suits you.”
What do you mean, “not bad”? “You don’t think the skirt is too short?”
That skirt is making my head spin! “Nope. Just right.”
Do you know how many men would throw their grandma under a bus to spend just one minute alone with me in a hotel suite? And all you’ve got is “not bad”? “But the top . . . Is the cleavage too much?”
Half an inch more and you’ll cause an all-out riot . . . “I hadn’t really noticed. Seriously, I think that outfit is just fine.”
Ha! Wait till you see the look on your translator’s face when she gets an eyeful of me, then we’ll see who’s “not bad”! “If you say so, then I believe you.”
“What is up with you?”
“Did you say something?”
“Nope! Nothing at all.”
Paul gave her a thumbs-up and went to the bathroom to get ready.
As he entered the restaurant, Paul felt his pulse quicken. Before they had left the hotel, Mia had given him some advice on how to behave in this kind of situation. Don’t do anything that might embarrass Kyong in front of her employers, let her make the first move, and wait cautiously for the right time to express your feelings. If you’re seated next to each other and brushing your hand against hers would be too obvious, a gentle knee-to-knee contact should be enough to reassure her.
And in case he ended up unable to approach her without arousing suspicion, Paul had given Mia a little note that she could hand Kyong at the end of the meal.