“No.” He heaves a sigh like it’s the greatest tragedy ever. “I’ll be working.”
“On what?” As far as I know, his work calendar is clear for the weekend.
“Sandra has a lot of contracts, and she’s still very”—he shakes his head—“determined.”
“I feel bad for her agent.” The man sounded like he was in tears when he called the office.
“He’ll get his cut, just not as much as he would’ve liked. The rumor is that he was counting on the earnings and already splurged on a new boat he can’t really afford.”
I wince. “Ouch.” But the story isn’t really surprising. Ever since I started working at Huxley & Webber, I’ve seen one too many celebs and “their people” make bad financial decisions. I used to think that there was no way someone who made millions a year could struggle to pay their bills, but it happens all the time.
The limo stops in front of a stunningly beautiful building with golden fairy lights glowing along the walls. One side of the structure is made entirely of polarized glass. So. This is where the fairy godmother production happens to make me beautiful for the fancy event. My belly flutters. Thinking of all the gorgeous women who used to grace Josh’s arms, I pray they make me at least that pretty, and that I won’t embarrass him at the opera.
“Enjoy.” He kisses me on the mouth, just as the driver opens the door for me.
I kiss him back. “See you soon.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Ailee
Josh wasn’t kidding when he said he wanted to pamper me.
“Your shoulders are way too tight,” Leslie says, then puts me through a Thai massage, hot stone massage and scalp massage, although I’m not sure how my scalp is related to shoulder tightness.
She kneads me like I’m some sort of intransigent dough that refuses to become soft and malleable. I can’t complain because it feels amazing to have my muscles turned into warm goo. Does Katt do this every time she needs to get ready for an event?If so, it’s no wonder she looks radiant. I could definitely get used to this.
Another person, whose name I didn’t catch in my gooey stupor, clucks her tongue at the state of my skin and has me bathe in squishy mud, while a thick layer of seaweed sits on my face. Leslie comes back for an oil massage to work fragrant lavender oil into my skin and work out whatever kinks she might’ve missed the first time around. I sigh with appreciation. Josh reallyisa man worth spoiling if this is how he repays me for my little efforts.
The loveliest pink lacquer goes on my nails. Then comes my hair. I press my lips together at how unruly it is. It looks like a mushroom cloud of atomic devastation. “Really curly, huh?” I say with a small smile.
“Yeah, but it looks good. Your hair’s fantastic. Thick and glossy,” Monica the hairstylist states with a twinkle in her dark eyes. “Lots to work with. No need for extensions to give it volume.” She takes my hair, dries it, sprays in some products, then braids it into sections and twists them into a complex updo that I never thought was possible with hair like mine. She sticks several freshly cut purple orchids into the thick mass. “Perfect. Look at you. You look like a princess.” Monica grins.
“Oh my God, you’re agenius!” I say, unable to tear my eyes from the mirror. “I didn’t know my hair could look like…like…” For maybe the first time in my life, words fail me.
She laughs. “I got the magic hands,” she says, wriggling her fingers.
“Magic isn’t enough to describe this. I think you’ve destroyed the laws of physics. Thank you!”
“Like I said, great hair. Made my job easier.” She puts some very light makeup on my face, focusing on bringing out my eyes and lips. “You look like a little fairy. I love it.”
I simply can’t believe how amazing my reflection looks. Confidence and joy soar in my heart. I’m dying to get into my dress for the evening—the one I carefully packed for the event.
Finally, I shrug out of the robe and put on the gorgeous off-the-shoulder royal-purple gown that clings to my curves and accentuates all my assets the right way—as Max might put it—then slip on a pair of gorgeous silver stilettos with faux-diamond accents around the ankle straps. I stand and stare myself in the mirror. My eyes sparkle, and my cheeks are flushed with excitement. I feel like Cinderella, ready to attend the ball with my Prince Charming.
Just then, Josh steps inside.
My breath catches. He’s strikingly handsome in a black-and-white tuxedo. It fits his broad shoulders perfectly, then molds to his chest and slim waist. The man radiates a cool authorityand power that warns people to keep their distance. But when he looks at me, warmth enters his eyes, and it makes me special, like I’m the only woman in his world.
His eyes roam over me, head to toe and back up to my face. He steps forward, then grasps my shoulders, his palms warm and tender on my bare skin, and places a careful kiss on my lips to avoid smudging the scarlet tint.
“You look so beautiful. Can’t believe you’re mine.”
I look up at him with all the love and trust welling in my heart. “Thank you. You lookveryhandsome yourself.”
Smiling, he flicks a petal on one of the orchids in my hair. “The flowers look so good on you. We should plant these in our garden.”
“Really?”
