The Borrowed Dress:
The small apartment was filled with the scent of Anita's spicy jollof rice and the frantic energy of a closet being turned inside out. Eliana sat on the edge of the bed, the unopened iPhone box resting on her lap like a heavy secret. When Anita walked in and saw the sleek device, she nearly dropped her bag.
"He sent a what? Eli, this is the latest model! This phone can pay my rent for a year!" Anita gasped, rushing over to touch the glass. "And he wants a dinner date? This weekend?"
Eliana shook her head, her fingers tracing the splint on her wrist. "I told his man I can't go, Anita. Look at this place. Look at me. I don't have the shoes, I don't have the hair, and I certainly don't have a dress that belongs in a place where Liam eats. I'll look like a beggar at a king's table."
Anita stopped her frantic movements and looked at her friend with a fierce, protective light in her eyes. "Don't you dare say that. You are the most beautiful girl in this city, with or without a designer label." She marched over to her own small trunk and pulled out a deep emerald-green wrap dress. It wasn't silk, and it didn't have a French name stitched into the collar, but the fabric was soft and the color was vibrant. "It's not luxury, but it fits you perfectly. We'll style your hair to hide the bandage, and you'll wear my gold hoops. You aren't going there to show off clothes, Eli. You're going there because that man can't keep his eyes off you."
Eliana touched the green fabric, a spark of hope fighting against her fear. She hadn't mentioned David's cold warning—the way he had looked at her room as if she were a predator waiting to spring a trap. She didn't want to believe she was a "game" to Liam, but she knew the world saw her that way.