AllFreeNovel
Share Us
And again, that’s why I’m doing all of this.
Giving myself one more grumpy stink eye in the mirror, I walk over to turn on the shower. A discreet knock on my bedroom halts me before I get there.
Clearly, it’s not Gabriel, since he doesn’t seem to believe in asking permission before barging into a room.
A middle-aged woman with dark hair silvering at the temples, kind blue eyes, and a friendly smile greets me with a nod when I open the door.
“Good morning, Ms. Yamaguchi!” She beams happily. “I’m Shawna, Mr. Black’s housekeeper and cook.”
I smile back. “Just Fumi is fine. And nice to meet you.”
She ducks her chin. “Breakfast is ready downstairs, if you’d like to follow me.”
Now that’s a perk I wasn’t expecting: prepared breakfasts? I thank Shawna profusely and tell her I’ll be down after I get showered and ready for my day in front of the press.
“Oh, no need, dear.”
I cock a brow. “I’m sorry?”
“Just have a little rinse off and put on something comfortable. Don’t worry about hair or makeup, or wardrobe; that’ll be taken care of later.”
Shawna must see the confusion on my face, because she laughs and waves a hand.
“Mr. Black has already taken the liberty of booking you into the Guerlain Spa at the Plaza later this morning.”
Um, what.
“I—”
“Shower and dress, love!” Shawna chirps with a smile. “You’ll want some food in you before you go!”
What is happening.
Forty minutes later, after a quick shower and possibly the most divine poached eggs with smoked salmon the world has ever experienced, Trevor is dropping me off outside the Plaza Hotel for my appointment. I’m whisked into the ridiculously chic and eye-wateringly priced spa, where I’ve apparently been booked for the “royal” package.
It’s ridiculous.
I’m massaged until I could melt into the table beneath me. Then, clad in a robe, I’m seated in a salon chair while three women shape my brows, tease my hair into a style I’ve always loved but never once been able to pull off on my own, give me a mani-pedi, and do my makeup in a way that makes me look and feel like a movie star.
“If you’d like to lie back in that chair over there, we’ll get started on your waxing.”
I hear the metaphorical record scratch as I frown, yanked out of my bliss by the request.
“What?”
She smiles. “Your waxing, miss. If you’d like to?—”
“Like a bikini waxing?”
“Well, most of our clients prefer us to take the whole?—”
“Nope,” I shake my head, my lips tight. “That’s not happening.”
Her brows knit slightly. “Well, your fiancé, Mr. Black?—”
“Is welcome to come in himself and have his balls waxed if he’s so inclined. I’m all set,” I say tersely.
The woman bites back a laugh. “Of course, miss. Shall I make a note of that in your client file?”
