Rimelion: The Exploiter

The bell above Bernardo’s boutique chimed as Roberto pushed open the door with his signature flourish, holding it for us as if we were walking into a palace instead of a high-end clothing shop.

“Bernardo!” Roberto called out. “Your favorite customer returns!”

The older man appeared from behind a rack of evening gowns, his face lighting up with recognition. “Ah! Signorina Charlie!” he hurried over, clasping his hands together. “And you brought a friend! Benvenuta, benvenuta!”

Lola stepped forward immediately, her professional mask sliding into place. “Hello, I’m Lola, Charlie’s—” she hesitated for just a fraction of a second, “—assistant. We need something appropriate for a business brunch with—”

“With Riker,” I finished, pulling out my holo-phone. “Actually, hold on one second.”

I stepped aside slightly, bringing up Riker’s contact. The holo-call connected almost immediately, his three-dimensional form materializing with that theatrical flair he couldn’t turn off even if he tried.

“Ah, Charlie, my dear!” He spread his arms. “Calling to confirm? Or are you getting cold feet?”

“No cold feet,” I said, watching Lola out of the corner of my eye as she began discussing fabric options with Bernardo. “But I wanted to ask—is it okay if I bring Lola?”

Lola’s head snapped toward me so fast that I was surprised she didn’t give herself whiplash. She crossed her arms and shook her head firmly. No.

I ignored her.

Riker’s expression shifted into something delighted. “Your lovely assistant? Of course! I would be honored. I’ll ensure everything is perfect for both of you.”

“Partner,” I corrected him, still watching Lola.

She hung her head, her shoulders rising slightly as if she could physically retreat into herself.

Riker’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming with amusement that meant he’d just filed this information away for future use. “Partner,” he agreed smoothly. “Even better. Yes, I’ll make the necessary arrangements. This will be far more interesting than I anticipated.”

“Great. See you in—” I checked the time, “—an hour and forty minutes.”

“I’ll be counting them, my dear.”

I ended the call and turned to find Lola glaring at me with the intensity of someone who had just watched me commit a crime against proper planning protocols. Roberto was leaning against the counter, grinning as if he were watching his favorite soap opera. I walked over to Lola slowly, trying my best to look apologetic.

It probably didn’t work.

“You should have asked,” she said, voice tight.

“You would have said no,” I pointed out.

“Exactly.”

Roberto snorted, quickly covering it with a cough when Lola’s glare shifted briefly in his direction. I took another step closer. “You’ll like it.”

“That’s not the point.”

“It is, though.” I tilted my head, letting a small smile tug at my lips. “You like the untamable chaos.”

Lola opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Then, reluctantly, gave the smallest, most begrudging nod I’d ever seen. “But I’d like to prepare next time,” she said firmly.

“Of course,” I agreed easily. “But if I’d told you earlier, you would have agonized over it for so long that you’d stress yourself into a spreadsheet-induced coma. Now you won’t. Band-aid pull, Charlie™ way.”

Her face turned red. “That’s not—you can’t just—”

“Works every time,” I said cheerfully.

Bernardo, who had been watching this entire exchange with the patient amusement of someone who’d seen every kind of relationship dynamic walk through his doors, cleared his throat gently.

“Signorina Lola,” he said warmly, “if you are joining Charlie for this important brunch, then you will need something appropriate as well, sì?” He gestured toward a section of the boutique. “Come, I have ideas already.”

Lola looked between me, Bernardo, and Roberto, who was still grinning like he’d just been handed front-row seats to the world’s best show… and let out a long, defeated sigh.

“Fine,” she muttered, following Bernardo. “But I’m blaming you when this goes sideways, Lady.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, sweetie,” I called after her.

She stumbled slightly at the nickname, her ears turning pink.

Roberto walked over and clapped me on the shoulder. “Charlie bella,” he said, full of mischief, “you are either the bravest woman alive, or the craziest.”

I grinned. “Can’t it be both?”

He laughed, loud and genuine. “Sì! Both is good! Both is perfetto!”

Bernardo returned moments later, his arms full of options… a sleek navy dress for Lola, something with clean lines and subtle elegance. For me, he held up a sharp blazer in deep charcoal with frost-blue accents along the lapels, paired with tailored trousers and a silk blouse the color of a winter sky.

“Professional,” he explained, “but with presence. You walk in, and Riker knows you are not just a player anymore. As the signorina explained, you are a queen who understands business.”

I took the outfit, running my fingers over the fabric. It was perfect… exactly the balance I needed.

“And for Signorina Lola,” Bernardo continued, turning toward her with the navy dress, “elegance without overshadowing. Complementary, but confident.”

Lola inspected it, then gave a small nod. “It’s… acceptable.”

“High praise,” I teased.

She shot me another look, but this time there was a hint of a smile behind it.

“Go,” Bernardo said, shooing us both toward the changing rooms. “Try them on! We have no time to waste!”

Lola held up the navy dress, examined it for exactly three seconds, then shook her head. “No. This isn’t for me.”

Bernardo blinked, surprised. “But signorina, it is perfetto for—”

“No,” Lola repeated more firmly and set it aside. “I need something else.”

And so began what I could only describe as the Great Lola Dress Trial.

Bernardo, to his credit, took this as a personal challenge. He disappeared into the back and returned with a burgundy wrap dress. Lola tried it on, stepped out of the changing room, looked at herself in the mirror for five seconds, and shook her head. “Too bold.”

Next came a soft gray pencil dress with three-quarter sleeves. Classic, understated, screaming “competent professional.”

Lola turned left, then right, inspecting herself. “Too plain.”

A forest green sheath dress with delicate gold threading along the neckline.

“Too formal.”

A cream-colored dress with a structured bodice and a flowing skirt.

“Too... soft.”

Meanwhile, I’d tried on Bernardo’s original suggestion for me—the charcoal blazer with frost-blue accents, the tailored trousers, the winter-sky blouse. It fit perfectly, looked exactly right, and took me all of three minutes.

I stood off to the side now, watching as Lola bit her lip, staring at her reflection in the fifth dress, a deep sapphire blue with clean lines and a subtle belt that emphasized her waist. It was beautiful. She was beautiful.

But she still wasn’t satisfied.

Her brow furrowed as she turned slightly, examining the way the fabric fell. “I don’t know,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else. “It’s not...”

“You look fine,” I whispered.

She shook her head immediately. “This is important, Lady.”

I stepped closer, coming up behind her so we were both reflected in the mirror. I slipped my arms around her waist and leaned my chin on her shoulder, meeting her eyes in the glass.

“You look great in it,” I whispered.

For a moment, she relaxed into the embrace. Then she pulled away, turning to face me, her expression tight with frustration.

“I shouldn’t have come with you,” she said, the words tumbling out quickly. “No. I need time to go over things in my head. It is a mistake, this...” She glanced down at herself, then back up at me. “I...”

I caught her hands before she could pull further away.

“Lola,” I said firmly, holding her gaze. “This is exactly why I did it.”

She blinked, confusion flickering across her face.

“I want us doing this together,” I continued, squeezing her hands gently. “And if you can push clothes on me, go through my disaster closet and insist I need to look presentable—” I reached out and touched the fabric of her dress, smoothing it slightly, “—then so can I.”

I turned her gently back toward the mirror, standing beside her now, both of us reflected together.

“You are amazing,” I whispered, looking at her reflection. “You always are. But right now?” I gestured at the dress. “You look incredible. Professional. Confident. Exactly like someone who can walk into a brunch with Riker and make him remember that I don’t do anything alone. That I have you.”

Lola stared at our reflections, her eyes shining slightly.

“You really think...?” she started, voice small.

“I know,” I said. “And Riker will know it too the second we walk in.”

She took a shaky breath, then nodded slowly. “Okay,” she whispered. “Okay.”

Behind us, Bernardo let out a satisfied hum. “Ah, l’amore,” he said warmly. “It sees what the mirror cannot, sì?”

Roberto, still lounging by the counter, wiped at his eyes dramatically. “Madonna, Bernardo, you make me cry! So beautiful!”

Lola’s cheeks turned pink, but she didn’t look away from the mirror this time. Instead, she straightened slightly, her professional composure sliding back into place… but softer now, less armor and more confidence.

“This one,” she said finally. “I’ll take this one.”

I grinned and squeezed her hand. “Perfect choice, sweetie.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t let go of my hand. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me anyway,” I said.

Her expression softened, and she looked at me; not our reflections, but actually at me. “Yeah,” she breathed. “I do.”

Roberto made another dramatic sobbing sound.

Bernardo was already wrapping up our selections, his smile warm and knowing. “Bellissime,” he declared. “Both of you. Riker will not know what hit him.”

I pulled Lola into a quick hug before she could overthink again. “We need to show Riker that Rimebreak doesn’t have just one leader.”

“Lady…” she closed her eyes.

“Yes, I may be in charge, but without you… Without Queenmaker? There wouldn’t be any kingdom, look at Sallen.”

She furrowed her brows while turning to me. “Exactly. your quest—”

“—is why I need you.”

She shook her head with a small smile. Victory! “…fine.”

Lola walked out first, already composed, the sapphire dress sitting on her like it had been waiting its whole life for her spine to straighten.

I did not follow.

Instead, I turned and headed straight for the door.

Roberto blinked. “Charlie bella, you are not—?”

“Nope,” I said cheerfully, already stepping outside. “Not changing here.”

Roberto frowned. “But you—you picked the outfit—”

“I did,” I said. “And I’ll put it on in the car.”

Both of them stared at me.

We made it to the curb, Roberto’s car gleaming like it’d been polished for a date.

“You are not the driver, Roberto,” I said. “Sorry for… using you?”

He froze. “Excuse me? You did not.”

“You work as—” I waved a hand vaguely, “—a friend? In Rimelion? Not a chauffeur.”

He opened his mouth. “I want to!” he blurted. “If it means I can buy upgrades for my baby? Maybe?”

I snorted despite myself and looked at Lola. She studied Roberto for a long moment, then shrugged once. “He seems motivated.”

“Traitors,” I muttered, sliding into the seat and letting my shoulders drop. I reached down, touched the hem of my current clothes.

Okay, I thought.

The fabric flowed, folded, shifted, swallowing Bernardo’s careful tailoring, absorbing the charcoal blazer, the winter-sky silk, the frost-blue accents like it was tasting a new dish and approving.

Roberto glanced at me just in time to see the last shimmer fade. He made a noise halfway between a gasp and a prayer. “…Madonna,” he whispered. “It is still crazy to me that magic is real.”

Lola said nothing. She just looked at me and sat on my lap.

I leaned back in the seat, smiling to myself.

Alright, Riker, I thought. Brunch it is.