Rebirth Of The Heiress And The Tycoon's Lover (Alina) novel Chapter 214

AUTHOR’S POV.

She rolled down the window and yelled, grinning, “Get in, loser.”

Talia looked up, recognition and amusement in her face. “Mean Girls, really?” She asked as she hopped in, tossing her bag onto the corner.

“I couldn’t help myself.” Alina chuckled.

“You look nothing like Regina George, by the way,” Talia teased, flinging an arm around her and squeezing. “How was your night?”

Alina sank back into the seat. “I barely slept.”

“Same,” Talia admitted, then tapped through her phone. “Listen…don’t panic. I already know where we can start. I booked an appointment last night after our call.”

Alina blinked, surprised. “You booked last night? It was so late.”

“Don’t looked so shocked, Talia has some connections too,” she said with a proud little smirk referring to herself in third person. “The store owner owes me a favor.”

Alina laughed, nudging her. “Get a friend with connections, huh?”

“You know it.” Talia said, giggling as she shot Alina a wink.

Talia looked at Jordan through the rearview mirror

“Hi Jordy.” She greeted the man.

“Good morning Miss Hart.” Jordan greeted politely.

“We talked about this Jordy, call me Talia, or Miss Talia.” She told him for the umpteenth time. “Anyways go to this address.” She turned the screen of her phone to him.

Jordan nodded, pulled onto the street, and the car slid into traffic, two women heading into a very short, very frantic shopping day.

The boutique’s door chimed when they stepped in, and the small shop smelled of new fabric and coffee. A man with silver at his temples and an exaggerated bow, part charm, part theatrics, appeared before they could find their bearings.

“Ladies! Welcome,” he announced, sweeping a hand around his store. He was unmistakably pleased to see Talia. “Talia, my favorite troublemaker. Come to wreck my morning in the best way?”

Talia grinned like she’d been called out and loved it. “Only the best way, Marco. I brought reinforcements.” She nudged Alina forward.

Marco’s face shifted the instant he saw Alina. “Alina Dawn,” he breathed, as if the name were a favorite perfume. “I’ve followed your line since the first show. It’s an honor.” He stepped forward and took her hand as if greeting a long–expected guest. “We’ll make something extraordinary.”

Alina, who normally treated shopping like a necessary nuisance, felt a tiny bolt of case at Marco’s warmth. His enthusiasm was oddly infectious.

She barely noticed Jordan folding back into the shadow by the door, watching with the steady patience of someone used to being on–call.

“Champagne?” Marco offered theatrically as he led them to a private salon at the back. It was simple and elegant, with racks of curated pieces and a large mirror that took up one wall. He set down two flutes and gestured. “We’ve cleared this morning for you.”

Talia dropped into the mood like she’d been born for it. “We need three things: a show–stopper for the dinner, a cocktail look for later, and something comfortable for between changes. Practical glam.” She clapped her hands, eyes bright.

“It’s just one dinner Talia.” Alina reminded her but Talia wasn’t listening.

This dinner was just an excuse for her to buy dresses she won’t even be wearing at the dinner.

“Common, don’t be a killjoy.” Talia whined.

Alina gave a rueful smile. “You know I don’t like shopping.”

“You’ll never say that when you see the right piece,” Talia teased, squeezing her shoulder. “Trust me.”

Marco produced racks as if by magic. He talked color, cut, and what would play well with Lucian’s aesthetic while Talia chattered a mile a minute about shoes and the logistics of heel height versus sprinting ability.

Alina found herself laughing, really laughing, more than she’d intended. The scene was ridiculous and warm, and the panic of three days away felt smaller in that light.

Then Marco held out a gown on a padded hanger. Midnight–blue, simple at first glance at with a cut that promised drama. When Alina slipped into the dressing room and emerged, the air shifted. The dress hugged her in all the right places, spilled in all the right arcs. It made her feel…dangerously…confident.

Marco clapped like a delighted audience. “Brilliant. We can set tiny black diamond accents along the shoulder. Subtle. Dangerous.”

Talia whooped. “Yes. Do it. This is the one.”

They worked fast, Marco’s seamstress was already on site and extraordinarily efficient as she pinned hems and took notes while Marco explained where to add support for dancing.

Jordan hovered by the entrance, bringing the calm, practical energy that made both women feel secure.

Marco folded their purchases into neat boxes and the seamstress handed over a small bundle of last–minute adjustments, Talia and Alina gathered everything up.

“Everything set?” Marco asked, smiling as he stacked the boxes.

“Perfect,” Alina breathed.

She and Talia laughed about hair trials and how to survive a night in sky–high heels.

They walked out into the sunlight with armfuls of bags, package after package carefully wrapped with Marco trailing behind them.

Jordan popped the trunk and helped pile the bounty in, efficient and steady.

Alina and Talia slid into the car, faces flushed with satisfaction.

Jordan closed the trunk and turned, ready to go.

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