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Camden isn’t one to use force when influence works just as well. He won’t pull me out of here by the hair.
He might just make me pay for my disobedience.
At long last, I get out, dry myself on a fresh towel on a bench, and call out Kendra’s name.
The brunette comes in along with her suitcase. Not one to smile or talk much, she unnerves me far less than Juliet.
“I have clothes for you, but let’s get your makeup done, first.”
I consider protesting, but what's the point, exactly? If Camden wants her to make me look like a porn star, all the better. Maybe I’ll be less recognizable.
I sit on the bench and let her do her job. When she’s done, she hands me folded fabric and walks out of the bathroom.
My heart’s a drum beating hard against my chest. Can I get a stroke at nineteen? I certainly feel like I could. And that might be a preferable fate.
The outfit is less explicit that I imagined. Hell, it’s better than the cupless bra I had to wear at Silks. A simple white ensemble of a bra and panties, strangely in my exact size—a small paired with a 28B, which is hard to find—with a pretty, gray-blue sundress on top.
I fuss with the outfit, I bite my painted lip and smooth my sweaty hands over the soft fabric on my legs, wasting time, no doubt annoying the dicks waiting for me.
Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror behind the sink, my heart plummets. I’ve never looked prettier. I assumed the makeup artist would have a heavy hand, adding layers upon layers of blush and shadow, but my makeup is neutral, natural. I can even still see my freckles.
She hasn’t tried to hide me. On the contrary, she’s made sure every single one of my features stands out more, my eyes, my mouth, my lashes.
I’ll be recognized on the spot.
I can’t do this. I can’t.
I have to.
ChapterEight
I’m a good host, so I entertain my guests while we wait more or less patiently for the main event of this unexpected night. Everyone has a full glass, and I replenish them before they get to dregs. Yet I’m preoccupied.
The way Aryan attempted to cow Morgan isn’t going to fly—the woman might be nauseatingly naive, but she doesn’t deserve to suffer for it beyond what’s useful. Aryan was never one to understand the subtlety of wielding power. I’m glad he has a sister to take the reins of his family’s business, because he never could.
Juliet is another story.
She’s delighted by the turn of events, relishing in this freshly served comeuppance. It turns her on. Who am I to judge her? It turns me on.
She kisses along Liam’s neck, leaving pink lipstick marks on his tanned skin. Then suddenly she glances at me. “You know, she said she wasn’t going to post the video.”
I shrug. If I’m honest, I believe it. “It doesn’t matter. She has it and she could.”
Jules chuckles. “Right? Silly girl. She’s pretty though. So pretty.”
Liam grins. “That she is.”
I think on each of Morgan’s features. I can’t disagree. I wasn’t struck by her at first. Erica is more classically beautiful—and sensual, with those tits and ass. Lola’s more provocative, sure of her power over men, and willing to spread her milky thighs any time, any place.
Now that I’ve spent an hour or so in her presence, I’m surprised I ever thought her the lesser beauty in the trio. My cock’s been hard and twitching all night. It’s not entirely my fault—I wasn’t blind, she’s just in hiding.
I didn’t expect others to think much of her appearance. Juliet’s gorgeous, sophisticated, and adorable in her daintiness. We know plenty of women who could easily make a career in Hollywood or as top models if they so wished.
Even so, we’re in agreement. There’s something about the freckled wallflower.
“It’s been a lot longer than fifteen minutes.” Montgomery grunts. “I can’t wait to fuck her mouth. I’m gonna go deep.”
I snarl at Aryan. I shouldn’t have called him. He’s pissed. I can understand some resentment, but he’s acting like an entitled prick who doesn’t like to have his behavior checked, especially not by a woman he considers beneath him.
