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“Put the damn dress on!” Seraphina, the delicate, too-beautiful, too-perfect media liaison,snarlsin my face and pops the buttons of my blouse. “The security cameras inside this elevator have been shut down to give you privacy. The gown is fitted as best it can be, considering an uncooperative model. Makeup and hair,” she nods toward the crowd surrounding me, “are ready to transform you fromthis,” she looks deep into my eyes, then she looks to Aubree, “tothat. We have shoes for you to try on, but if all else fails, you can just wear your flats. They’ll look god-awful, and the height difference will be a gross disservice to the dress, but we work with what we’ve got—even if what we’ve got pisses us off.”
Shoving my shirt back and leaving me exposed to half a dozen strangers—and Aubree—Seraphina snatches the gown and thrusts it into my arms. “Finish changing so we can start this elevator again. Claude will do your makeup en route, and Jeanne will do your hair immediately after. We’re to be at the function in twenty minutes, and if we’re not, you’d better be prepared for an uprising.”
“Why are you being so aggressive about this?” I ask the question, but for some strange reason, I snap the button on my pants and push them down to reveal my underwear. “The mayor doesn’t even care that much.”
“Of course he cares!” She yanks my pants when I have them off and tosses them into a waiting bag. “He wouldn’t have invited you if it wasn’t important. Now hurry the hell up.”
* * *
Nineteen minutes later, we’ve exited the George Stanley elevator in the underground parking garage, filed into a limousine I never organized nor expected—the idea that it might’ve been provided as a luxury was quickly beaten back when I was thrown to the middle to rest on my knees while stylists worked around me to make my eyes ‘smokey’and ‘sexy’like Aubree’s—and made it to our destination.
Pulling up at the front of the event, no one would have any clue we’re anything but a trio of elegantly groomed women who exit a limousine, as cameras flash and lights blind and tempt me to cover my face.
But of course, I don’t. Seraphina would smack me if I tried.
“Walk straight,” she murmurs by my ear. “Up the stairs. Into the elevator. We’re going to the eleventh floor.”
“I don’t see why this is even necessary.” I take hold of my beautiful, gold-colored gown and smile for the media whosnap-snap-snaptheir pictures. “This night is about Justin. It’s about the new mayor. So why the hell am I being kidnapped and forced to attend?”
“Because he said he wanted you here.” Seraphina gently waves to the cameras and taps my wrist to steer me along. “He specifically asked me to ensure your attendance.”
“He told me on the phone it was fine if I boycott.”
“He was being nice.” Aubree steps up on my free side and escorts me inside. “Everyone knows that if they say they definitely want something, people like you tend to double down and refuse.”
“Clearly notpeople like me,” I grumble. “Because I wasn’t doubling down on either side of the argument. I was merely choosing to stay in and not attend a stupid event all alone. I don’t want to be here, Aub—”
“You won’t be alone.” Cutting in, she slaps the elevator button just as soon as we enter the building, and while we wait, she looks to me and grins. “Archer’s here too. You already knew he was coming.”
“Sure. But he’s not my date.”
“He could be,” she argues playfully. “All you have to do is ask.”
“I can’t ask! We’re not—”
“Compatible.” She mocks me and watches the lit numbers count down for the elevator’s arrival. “Yup, I’ve heard that before. Doesn’t really matter, though, because you have to be here. The mayor said so.”
Before I can form a rebuttal, the lift doors slide open to reveal two beautiful women in gowns, clearly heading toward the same party we are. Instantly, I glance down at my feet as the women, sisters, smirk and take a step back to make room.
“In we go.” Aubree refuses me even an inch to run away as she scoops her arm around mine and leads me into the elevator.
Turning us around so we face the front, I’m left squished between glamor-pusses while I feel only half-done, and the dazzling Seraphina selects the eleventh floor.
“We’ve already missed the hors d’oeuvres portion of the evening,” Seraphina mumbles, “so you’re going in on an empty stomach. But dinner is scheduled to begin at eight, right after the official speeches and whatnot.”
My nose wrinkles at the prospect of listening to boring speeches at a party I never wanted to attend… on an empty stomach.
“I can’t commit to this,” I protest. “My illnesses mean I have to eat or I might pass out.”
“Oh sure,” Aubree snorts. “Nowwe discuss illness and medications.”
“Here.” A sweet voice comes from behind me, then before I can glance back, a manicured hand slides between my ribs and Aubree’s, only to open and present a mini quiche. “I snagged a bunch, but I can spare one for now.”
Stunned by a voice I’m sure I recognize, I spin to face the woman duet and lock on to the face I should’ve picked out the moment I stepped onto this elevator. “Detective Asa?”
I look from her to the woman she’s with, only for my stomach to jump with recognition. “Michelle Mancino?”
“Oh, well…” The second releases a nervous giggle. “Close, but not quite.”
