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She’d been so busy last night, she hadn’t even asked him about the Ravello Awards tonight. And she had no chance to now, as the house was taken over like Katniss’ before the Victors’ Tour, with Jacqui, a publicist Megan had vaguely heard of named Donna, a hairdresser, a makeup artist, and a dresser, whatever that was.
“Your first stylist will be here tomorrow at ten,” Donna said. “Until then, Petra will dress you.”
This meant, apparently, that Petra had a huge rolling suitcase with flat drawers hiding more shapewear than a Miss Universe pageant. Megan was insulted. And then the makeup artist tsked over her lack of tan and started on a foundation two shades darker than Megan’s skin tone, and she had to protest.
“Cameras, darling,” Donna said, rushing past her with a handful of papers she was delivering to Alessandro and his team. “They bleach you right out. Let the ladies do their job, mkay?”
Christa, the makeup artist, took her portable light and brought it right up to Megan’s skin. “Look. This is what it would look like if we didn’t do this.”
The mirror showed Megan a white mask with black eyes and pale lips. “Okay. I believe you.” She wanted to close her eyes, but she couldn’t, of course. “Do your thing.”
She almost saiddo your worst, but that was a little too much New Megan for her comfort.
Three hours later, a woman Megan hardly recognized looked back at her. “We’re going for a blueblood look,” Petra had said. “Very East Coast. Very Ralph. Very Nantucket. Gorgeous, don’t you think?”
Well, there was nothingwrongwith it. Megan’s dress was a midnight-blue sheath with a white cape that attached on the shoulders and reached just to the floor. A diamond pendant followed the neckline and stopped a modest distance from her cleavage. A tennis bracelet and a chignon shot through with more diamonds in her hair finished the look.
While she observed herself in the mirror and tried to summon Old Megan to be as sparkly as those diamonds, Alessandro came out of the guest bedroom where he’d been prepped. Megan’s shoulders slumped. He looked perfect. Literally perfect. His hair was slicked back but not too far back, so she could still count the curls at the nape of his neck. They’d trimmed his beard, and he looked effortlessly hip rather than couldn’t-be-bothered hippy. He wore charcoal-gray pants and a lilac shirt under a purple and gray paisley vest. He was carrying the suit jacket, but Megan hoped with a sigh that he never put it on. He’d rolled up his sleeves again.
“Wow,” she said.
“I thank you,” he said. “I—Megan.” His face went from a grateful smile to concern in a second. “What is it? What is this?”
“It’s Nantucket,” she said, trying to sound enthusiastic. “It’s Ralph. It’s East Coast.”
“Cara, no.” He came over and looked her in her eyes. “Your shoulders are sad. You hate it.”
“I don’thateit,” she said quickly.
“You don’t like the dress?” Petra said at once. “What’s the matter with it?”
“Nothing.”
“It is not her,” Alessandro said firmly. “And all these diamonds.”
Megan winced. She especially hated the diamonds.
“Come here,” he said and pulled her up the stairs to the master bedroom. “I am so sorry,” he said as soon as the door was closed. He kept hold of the hand he’d used to pull her and gently unclasped the tennis bracelet. “Better,” he said. “Turn around.”
Megan did so without a word, and he took off the necklace and unzipped the dress. “Porca puttana, what did they do?”
“Did you just call me pork?”
“What is this?” he demanded, putting a finger into the shapewear that enclosed her back and belly.
“The sizes were a little off,” she said.
“Megan, stop. You have to take all of this off and start again. And tomorrow I will tell Yasmin to stop sending you clothes.”
“I’ll tell her myself,” Megan said. “But what do I do now?”
He spun her around so she faced him again and slid the dress off her shoulders and down her legs, then threw it on the bed. “Find something that makes you happy.”
He waved at her suitcases, which they’d never gotten around to unpacking.
“But I—”
“Cara,” he said, holding her arms and making her look at him. “You are a beautiful, confident woman. You know what looks good on you. You have never doubted this. Today you did. And I am so angry at those people downstairs.”
