The skirt moved flawlessly, loose enough to allow for free range of motion without losing shape. The stitching held—no immediate wardrobe malfunctions in evidence. Ravi breathed a sigh of relief.

The deep blue of the fabric offset the deep brown color of Sora's eyes, lending them a slightly hazel cast under the showroom's fluorescent lights.

Was she always this beautiful? He didn't know, he hadn't been watching her when there was Hana or Jasmin or any number of women on his mind. How did all of us miss her?

She reached the end of the runway with her hands on her hips.

"What do you think of the dress?"

"I love it."

"It looks good on you."

Sora swished the broom skirt around her legs. "It's light, travels well." She spun on her heel. "It's a little snug in the hips."

Ravi tipped his head and took a step back to look at the whole picture objectively.

"You've got her beat for curves."

"That better be a compliment."

"How could it be anything else? You make that dress look perfect when it isn't."

Ravi stepped up to the side of the runway. "May I," he gestured toward the hem.

"Be my guest."

Ravi mentally measured the asymmetrical fall of the skirt against his notes on his client's height.She's an inch or so under Sora's height, wears platform heels to compensate. He followed the sweep of the fabric to the curve of Sora's waist, cupping her ribs as she sighed. Slimmer than Sora, possibly even slimmer than at her last visit. He gave the bodice a light tug. The fabric has good give.

"What's the verdict," she asked, pulling him out of his thoughts.

"You can wear the hell out of a dress."

"Not exactly what I had in mind."

"It's true. You look good."

"Do you talk to all your dress forms like this?"

"None of them knock me out like you do." Ravi wasn't the type to let a compliment go unspoken.

Sora had no verbal response to that.

He turned her toward him. "How's the sheer panel in front? Is it heavy, scratchy, how is it working for you?"

She touched the pale shimmery cloth insert that covered the skin revealed by the dress's plunging neckline. The aspiring starlet likely wouldn't have much use for a modesty panel, but Ravi had thought to include it in anyway. Since Sora could be of any two minds about her scar depending on the day, its inclusion had worked out nicely.

"It's fine. It doesn't itch, it's not too heavy. Like the rest of the dress, it's pretty much perfect."

"It's only as good as the person wearing it," he noted. "How's the back of the dress?"

Sora reached behind her to adjust the fit. "Mm, it rides up."

"The hip thing, got it." Ravi filed Sora's measurements in the back of his mind for later. One never knew when inspiration might strike. "I think I'm done with this one. Final thoughts?"

"Where can I get one?"

"Christmas is in nine months."

"My birthday is in two." She held up as many fingers to make her point.

"Not subtle."

"Men don't understand subtle, women have to spell things out for them."

"We'll see," he retorted, cryptically. He wanted to do something for her, but it wasn't this. The silhouette would come to him eventually. "You up for one more?"

Sora swept her hair over one shoulder to finger comb the curls.

"Try on another stunning Misra original? I think I can force myself to endure, for a friend." She was dazzling with that smile of hers. God, I could kiss her.

Ravi coughed to cover his internal lapse of judgment.

"That's generous of you."

He called Imogen back from Yelena's side. "We're doing dress two. I want you to take her backstage and outfit her with the works. I want to see jewelry, shoes, get Charmaine to mess with her hair a little bit. This dress is off-white, it'll need a little help to pop."

"I'm all about pop, leave it to me."

Imogen hopped up onstage to escort Sora to the dressing area.

Ravi was making additional modifications to his sketch of the blue racerback dress when he felt Narsi approaching from behind. He'd know his brother's ambling stride anywhere.

"You wanted to weigh in, hit me."

"The color's great."

"Peacock blue. It skews green when lights strikes it just right and that adds an element of drama to the dress when it's worn by the right person."

"It fits Sora like a glove," Narsi remarked as an aside. Ravi sensed a hint of implication. The Gallegos genes are strong in this one. Ravi was far from in the mood for round three of the third degree.

"She has similar measurements to my client. Do we have a problem?"

"Not yet."

Ravi grunted. He'd rather loiter in raging silence than try to hold a conversation under these conditions.

Imogen rushed out of the fitting room in fit of admiring pique. "You've been holding out on me, mister."

Ravi cocked his eyebrow in question.

"That dress is phenomenal. My next wedding, you're my guy."

"I'll make a note of it." He did, mostly to get on Narsi's nerves.

Narsi coughed. "Something I should know about?"

She poked him in the shoulder. "I'm putting you on notice. If I don't get the wedding of my dreams one day, complete with heartstopping gown by Misra, I'm gonna a find a man who'll give it to me."

Narsi took her hand and kissed her wedding ring. "Consider me duly notified."

"Good." Imogen suddenly clutched Narsi's arm. "Look, here she comes."

Ravi turned from his brother's marital spectacle to see what his muse had for him next.

Sora appeared in the vestibule, a vision in ivory. In her hands she carried a bundle of blaue blumen bound by a braided chord the same color as her dress.

Her normally long hair curled softly just below her chin in a bob. Her eyes were piercing against the white backdrop, positively glowing in harmony with her bouquet. Sora had come into her own as a mature woman far into the past, yet it only now that Ravi felt that knowledge like punch drunkenness after a first kiss. I'm in trouble.

Sora strolled down the runway, her steps light and measured in comfort, as though she were striding down a street and not the runway of one of the most revered fashion houses in the Western world. This was the Sora he had come to know; she was no faint-hearted damsel in need of a knight. N'est pas une fille délicate, mais une femme dangereuse. Merde ! Fabrice would have mocked him for the dumb look that must have been on his face.

Ravi swallowed his epiphany, there was work to be done.

"How do you feel?"

Sora stroked the criss-cross ruching of the dress's chiffon bodice.

"Pretty." She shrugged. "Who am I kidding, I feel like...like the most beautiful woman in all the world." Her smile was luminous. Ravi noticed that she didn't look to the crowd standing at the back of the showroom. She and Hana still aren't on good terms. He felt guilty at how little he'd done to facilitate a reunion between them.

"You definitely look the part. I think you should keep it." He knew it was true when he said it and not a second a before.

"What? No! Oh no, I couldn't. Your client paid for it."

"My client paid for a wardrobe and she'll have one. I've been working on a couple of backups in case this one flopped in the final fitting. You're effervescent in that dress, I can't in good conscience give that to her knowing she'll never look as good in it as you do. It's yours if you want it. Just say the word."

Sora looked into his eyes as if she was searching for something. He didn't know what but it appeared that whatever she found satisfied her.

"Yes."

"That's settled, then."

He climbed onto the runway to get a closer look at his handiwork.

"If I didn't know I'd designed it, I wouldn't believe it."

"I would. You're amazing."

"So are you."

Ravi fingered a stray lock of hair that kissed her jaw.

"Is this is curl under or a cut?"

Sora pulled a concealed clip from behind her ear, bringing the foreshortened curl tumbling over his hand to its true length.

"I wasn't ready to commit to a haircut that drastic."

"You could pull it off."

"Nobody should be this believable while being this full of it."

Ravi gestured to her ensemble, baubles and all. "Who knows more about style than a fashion designer? You're a beautiful woman, you'd have to work to come across otherwise, regardless of your haircut."

Sora accepted the compliment. "If I ever find myself in need of a pep talk, I know just who to call."

"Making women feel their best comes with the job description, but I have to say you make it easy."

Pausing once more to take in his work, he found there was no sense in denying it. This frock had no place on the red carpet.

I designed a wedding dress in Sora's image.

He didn't know what to think about that.

"I'll get you a garment bag for the dress."

She squeezed his hand. "Thank you. This is one of the nicest gifts anyone's ever given me."

"Eh, it's not a diamond tennis bracelet."

"I've got a safe full of diamonds, they don't mean a thing. I like gifts that have meaning." She rubbed the gauzy draping of the A-line skirt between her fingers. "But I have no idea what to do with what's essentially a wedding dress." She'd picked up in one fitting what he hadn't in weeks of alterations.

"Save it for a rainy day. You're going to fall in love again eventually—with somebody worthy of your affection next time—and you'll be ready."

"One less thing to worry about on the big day."

"One less reason to be afraid of jumping the broom with both feet."

"I'm not sure even a Misra original can make me feel that certain of myself."

"What about a Misra? I'll be there with you. Whoever the lucky SOB is, I'll be right there to back your play, no matter what. You've earned that."

"You are one in a million."

"Tell that to my ex-wives."

"They know."

"You sure about that?" His being on decent terms with both now didn't negate fraught years passed.

"Hana used to tell me you made her feel like the only woman in the world when the two of you were together, and the way you looked at Jasmin, it was like she hung the moon. I can't think of one woman who wouldn't sacrifice a little dignity to be adored."

"You're the exception, you don't have to sacrifice anything since I already adore you. Some relationships are as easy as that."

"I wouldn't know."

"You'll see."