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I snort. “I guess.”
Rosa leans in. “What are you thinking? Something classic, or something striking?”
“Striking,” the stylist murmurs. He leans forward. "She’s got cheekbones and the face for it definitely." The man takes my face in his large hand and tilts my face to the evening light streaming in through the large windows.
I pull my face out of his grasp and turn to Rosa. She already has a glare on her face, and it's directed at him.
"You're better off not doing that when Xander is in range. You'll lose your hands and a family member just for that." She sweeps her head away without waiting for an answer when the man blanches.
I smile, but she's said exactly what I had in mind. Xander would never let him get away with putting his hand on me, as innocentas that was. He's so possessive sometimes it makes me feel safe; other times, I just feel crazy.
“Sorry. Part of the territory, I guess,” I shrug.
The stylist nods. “I would expect no different.”
"You have a few minutes. Get to work," Rosa snaps and waves her hand at me.
The man holds his hands out. "I'm sorry I did that." He grimaces, his nose wrinkling with distaste. “I get carried away, especially when I see a face with so much potential. I'm Mark."
I place my hand in his. "Well, very flattered to hear that I have potential I guess. She's right, though. Xander doesn't give a warning, Mark."
“Noted,” he murmurs.
"Do we do this in your room?" Rosa's brow is tipped up, and she's not smiling. She's pissed at him, and she's making no effort to hide it.
I don't even understand why she's here. She runs security at Amory Corp. She shouldn't be here getting me ready for dinner. But no one tells Xander how to run his empire. It definitely wouldn't be me.
"Yes." I lead the way to my room, and the man files after me. The sound of the crackling bags behind me fills me with a dull sort of dread; my stomach is jittery, and I'm feeling nervous suddenly.
Maybe because it's dinner with Xander, and they're obviously all here to make sure I'm ready for it, like I need to be pruned and primed just for him.
I’m not sure how to feel about that.
Mark smiles. “So. Bold and striking work for you?”
“Yes, sure,” I smile.
I’m definitely not going to say no to a makeover.
Mark agrees. “So,” he says, “What brings you here, to be a mob wife?”
I snort as he rubs foundation over my skin, dabbing it in to blend with the other creams. “I don’t think I had an option. I’ve got a mafia dad and mafia brothers as well.”
“Look at you. A princess, one might say.”
I wince. “Oh no. Please don’t say that.”
Mark laughs. He motions for me to close my eyes as he brushes makeup on my lids. “Don’t ever turn down a crown that’s offered to you, darling. Just my two cents.”
“Even if the crown comes with thorns?”
“Especially then. Jesus is remembered just as much as anyone,” Mark winks at me.
He continues to do my makeup, and I let the brushes and potions slide over my skin. Finally, he steps back. One of his manicured eyebrows raises. “Want to see?”
“Sure.”
Mark spins the chair so I face the mirror. The woman looking back at me…
