Making of Them (Beating the Biker 3)

“You’re right. You are a bit taller.”

“What’s in this box,” Jessica asked. She lifted the lid to spot the dress inside. “What about this?”

She pulled out the pricey designer gown and stepped into it. It was blue silk, with a piece that hung off one shoulder in ruffled folds. It had a bit of train, so it actually fit Jessica’s longer frame perfectly.

“Ms. Serafini!” Pearson called.

“Okay. Wear that. I’ll wear this one. Sit and let me fix your hair.” Chrissy eased her friend onto the ottoman at the center of her closet. “A minute, Mr. Pearson!”

In a hurry, Chrissy worked on the Jess’ hair as she did her own makeup. Then Chrissy took over. With all the time she’d been working for Pearson she’d become an expert at quick, stunning makeup. Between the two of them, they managed to get her ready in no time. Chrissy gave her a pair of strappy silver lamé heels, and they helped each other with their dresses.

“Ms. Serafini!” Pearson said more impatiently.

“He’s a damned child, isn’t he?” Jessica said.

“Ssh. He has the ears of a cat.” Chrissy handed her a silver lamé clutch and she picked a blue satin one she’d packed earlier and slipped on the shoes she bought for her ensemble.

Chrissy sucked in a breath.

“Let’s go,” she said.

“Chrissy,” Mr. Pearson said more insistently.

“Okay. I’m in trouble now. He used my first name.”

“Chrissy, are you sure this is all worth this? I mean, damn girl, I didn’t say this earlier, but you’ve lost weight and you don’t look happy.”

“I’m fine,” Chrissy assured. “And I really need you to help me out here, so please, Jessica, just do what I ask.”

Jessica nodded and both women walked from Chrissy’s room to the living room. Pearson turned when he heard their heels on the marble floor. He stared, transfixed.

“Is there a problem, Mr. Pearson?” Chrissy asked crisply. “The car isn’t due here for fifteen minutes.”

He stared at her.

“That isn’t the dress I bought you.”

“No, sorry. J

essica’s dress got ruined in transit. We had to go through my wardrobe and this was the only thing that fit her.”

He shook his head slightly. “Excuses,” he said. “I hope this isn’t what I can expect during your vacation, Miss Serafini.”

One. Two. Three. Chrissy counted off numbers to keep herself from reacting.

“I can stay back,” Jessica offered.

“Absolutely not,” Pearson ordered. “I suppose everything has worked out for the best.”

Chrissy’s phone rang, and she pulled it out to see the text.

“It’s the driving service. The car is here.”

“Good,” Pearson said, his jaw tight. “You do have the invitation, right?’

“Yes, Mr. Pearson, in my clutch.”

The drive was uneventful, but Chrissy noticed that Pearson was exceptionally tense. Both women sat close, but neither felt comfortable saying anything. When they got out of the car at the embassy, Jessica pulled her back.