Netta scoffed. ‘Hardly. His suit is pretty amazing and the rest of him isn’t exactly awful.’
‘Yeah, but he’s still not a knockout woman in vintage Chanel, now, is he?’ Marieke stepped back to examine Netta’s outfit once again. ‘Shoes,’ she said. She opened a suitcase full of boxes and rifled through them until she found what she was looking for. ‘These should work. Let’s try.’
Netta slid her feet into the velvet peep-toe heels and teetered a little. ‘I’m not used to wearing shoes this high anymore.’
‘You’ll be right,’ said Marieke. ‘I just want to …’ She vanished head-first into her kit bag again and emerged with two glittering brooches. ‘Take them off for a tick,’ she instructed.
Netta slid out of the shoes and watched as Marieke clipped the ornaments to them.
‘There,’ said Marieke, smiling. ‘Perfection.’
Netta slid back into the shoes and held one foot out to admire them.
‘You look fabulous,’ said Marieke. ‘My work here is done.’
‘You’re like a fairy godmother,’ Netta said, taking in her reflection once more. ‘I feel like Cinderella.’
Marieke grinned broadly. ‘It’s not all the dress, you know. Oh, I forgot something. Rhona asked me to give you this.’ From her handbag she produced a bottle of Bollinger. ‘Here. She said one glass to relax before you leave, the rest to celebrate when you get home.’
Netta poured herself a glass as soon as Marieke was gone. Mo would arrive soon, but she had long enough for some liquid courage. She took the glass back over to the mirror. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so perfectly put-together before. If she couldn’t face the music looking like this, there was no hope.
She took a sip of champagne and straightened, giving herself a steely glare in the mirror. ‘You’ve got this,’ she said aloud. Marieke had shown her some go-to red-carpet poses and she took a few moments to practise them. She felt idiotic but had to admit, even the craziest one was better than her standard huge-grin-and-awkward-hands pose.
Her phone rang from inside the rhinestone-encrusted clutch Marieke had left for her to use.
‘Mo,’ she said, her pulse galloping. ‘Are you here?’
‘I am. You ready?’
Oh God, that voice.
‘As I’ll ever be. I’ll come down.’
‘No, no—wait there,’ he said. ‘I’ll come up.’
Netta put the phone back into her bag and clipped it shut. She spritzed some perfume into the air and walked through it as she swallowed the last mouthful of Bolly in her glass. Her lungs suddenly felt too small. This moment, she realised, was a far cry from the first time she’d opened that door to him, when she was in a dressing gown and still half asleep. It was impossible to believe it had only been four days ago.
His knock was a quick double tap. Netta took a deep breath and opened the door, stepping back to let him in. ‘Hi.’
Mo didn’t move a muscle. He just stood there, unblinking, his lips parted. ‘Netta,’ he breathed. ‘You look …’
‘Like a proper grown-up?’
‘You lookbeautiful.’
Netta’s cheeks bloomed under her make-up. ‘So do you.’
That was an understatement. He’d gone from hot to scorching and looked every bit the celebrity. His suit had definitely become ‘at one’ with him, as Valerie had suggested. His hair had been combed into submission and his stubble tamed. And he smelled incredible. Netta could practically feel her ovaries going into overdrive, pumping out every egg she had left like machine guns. She squeezed her thighs together, mercifully hidden under the full skirt of her dress.
‘Should we go?’
‘Nah, let’s just stay here and get pizza,’ Netta joked.
‘Ha! I wish. C’mon, let’s get this thing over and done with.’ He stepped back as Netta swooshed through the doorway, then offered her his elbow. ‘Madam, your chariot awaits.’
As they reached the lobby, Netta remembered her promise to Audrey. ‘One sec,’ she said. ‘I promised my friend I’d show her my outfit before we left.’ She left Mo waiting while she made her way to Audrey’s room.
‘Oh, Netta!’ Audrey cried as she opened the door. ‘You look absolutely radiant! Stunning! You’ll be the most beautiful woman there. I’d put money on it.’
