“Abby, meet Sophine, our stylist here in the Hamptons. She spends her days doing hair and makeup, but obviously, she spends her nights fighting animated crime.”
Stylist? This...thing? The walking amalgamation of rhinestones and paint has put up some sort of flag in the world of fashion? I simply couldn’t believe it.
As if sensing my disbelief, Nick continued, wearing a coy little smile. “Soph has dressed everyone who’s ever set foot in the manor, from actresses to queens.”
And have any of them ever come back? I wondered as I stepped forward with a nervous smile of my own, determined to make the most of a bizarre situation. “What’s the stick for?”
“No stick!” she yelled. “Is tool!” Then, without another word, she smashed it against my arm.
I jerked back with a yelp, bracing for the ensuing pain, only to find that Sophine was right: It wasn’t a stick at all. It was actually a tape measure, and the sting of it made me realize why those stupid snap bracelets had been banned from some schools and were no longer a fad. It loosened and lost form the second it touched my skin, though, and she promptly began wrapping it around every inch of my body she could get her hands on, muttering indeterminable numbers and other calculations under her breath, at a volume and in a language I couldn’t understand.
I just stood there in shock, resisting the urge to sneeze as her feathery hair swept across my nose. It wasn’t until she tried jerking off the towel that I put up a bit of resistance. “Whoa there!” I stumbled backward, clutching it firmly around my chest. “Can I get dressed first? Or, better yet, I can just tell you my size.”
Her eyes gleamed as if I had presented her with a unique challenge, and she smirked at me.
Nick simply chuckled and headed back to the bed, shaking his head. “Play nice, you two. Wake me when it’s dinnertime.”
Chapter 11
For the next hour and a half, I was pressed and preened, polished and waxed, curled and styled to such an extent that I didn’t think an inch of my body remained the same.
Sophine didn’t work alone; she had an entire team at her disposal. While the others scrambled around like a flock of manic birds, she stood on a chair in the back, screaming, directing, instructing, and waving her damn stick around like a conductor in a show that had gone off the rails. How Nick slept through the whole thing, I would never know.
I had never seen so many products in my life, in spite of my career as a publicist. She had a massive collection of expensive, designer shimmers, oils, bronzers, and creams. By the time they were finished, I was flat-out terrified to look in the mirror and see what they’d done, absolutely horrified to see what the she-devil had done to me. I tried to steel myself for the reflection that would look back at me, but I never could have prepared for the outcome. When they finally spun me around, I didn’t even recognize the girl in the looking glass.
My mouth fell open with a little gasp as the band of people who’d bombarded me with treatments and products, prying and prodding and plucking melted slowly away. Sure, the woman I saw looked a little something like me, with the same complexion and bone structure, but every other bit of me had been washed away or covered up, concealed or changed.
I no longer looked like a publicist. I no longer looked like Mitchell’s pawn. I no longer looked like a pretty girl trapped in a tricky situation, trying to find her way back to the light. Now, I fucking was the light.
The dress draped over my body was otherworldly, like something from another planet. It spiraled down my length in a continuation of the same iridescent shimmer from a jeweled clip on my shoulder, trailing all the way down to the floor. It hugged every curve and contour of my body but seemed to flow freely at the same time, catching every possible ray of light as it whispered lightly over the carpet.
My hair was curled and swept up off my shoulders, secured with a jeweled clip identical to the one that held the dress in place. A metallic dusting of silver and gold danced across my eyes before darkening down into a coppery-bronze shimmer. Pale, pink lips were a perfect complement to my dark lashes, and my eyes, which had always been huge, now seemed to take up half of my face.
As I glanced down, I realized that the best part of the whole look was probably the shoes. It wasn’t that they looked spectacular. In fact, I couldn’t even see them because they were completely hidden beneath the folds of that glorious dress. The best part was that because they were hidden, they didn’t have heels to complicate my walking. I couldn’t believe I was allowed to attend a formal event in flats. Granted, they were Swarovski crystal-encrusted gladiator sandals that laced all the way up to my thigh, but they were flats nonetheless!
I giggled aloud as I twirled around, watching the dress flutter around me in a shimmering arch. It wasn’t until the door closed with a loud snap that I realized Sophine and her entire team had left and that Nick was watching me with a gentle smile.
A crimson blush blossomed in my cheeks as I skidded to a quick stop, dropping my eyes to the floor in a moment of sheer mortification. When I looked back up, I found him standing right in front of me, still staring with that same quiet smile.
“Please don’t stop,” he coaxed softly. “Watching you dance like that... Well, it’s the only good thing that’s happened since we landed back in New York.”
Gosh, he’s as beautiful as I feel. How is it possible for a single person to have all the beauty in the world?
For a moment, I just let it wash over me, basking in the soft glow of his eyes. Then I reached up and brushed a lock of golden hair away from his face. “We’re gonna get through this, Nick. You know that, right?” I stretched up on my tiptoes to brush my lips lightly against his. “When we leave here in a few days, we don’t ever have to look back.”
His hand reached out as well, but he didn’t actually touch me. He just traced me with it, hovering it in the air an inch above my face, so close that I could feel the heat, that it drummed up in me a deep ache for more. “How did I get so lucky?” he murmured, skimming the
tip of his fingers beneath my eyes, along my cheekbones. He was like a painter, memorizing his canvas, as if he was worried he might have to say goodbye. “I haven’t done much in my life to deserve someone like you.”
My heart warmed but tightened at the same time. I appreciated how sweet he was being, but something about the place had obviously broken him, left him shattered. “It’s okay. I like slumming it once in a while,” I replied, coaxing out a reluctant grin.
He kissed me slowly, tenderly, then picked up speed when I wrapped my arms around his neck. There was a frantic energy in the way he moved now, in the way he eased me closer and closer to the bed, slipping his tongue inside my mouth as his fingers fiddled with the edges of my dress. It wasn’t until he’d successfully unhooked the clasp that I pulled back.
“Dinner’s in five minutes,” I said breathlessly, unable to believe I was actually stopping him in his tracks, “and, I swear, there are over 200 bobby pins holding my hair. If you knock even one of them out, I’m sure your friend will whack you with her nightstick.”
Nick glanced up, giving my head a quick onceover before looking back down with a grin. “I promise to be careful with your hair.” He leaned toward me again, but I pushed him back with a little giggle.
“Nick, it’s not just the hair. It’s everything. Besides, you’ve still got to get dressed. We need to head down there in just a second.”