“I need to know. Did he or did he not fuck you while you were wearing – ”
“YES, now please shut UP!” I begged.
Sebastian nodded sagely. “We’re going with the Prada.”
“Works for me,” Abby said, and started arranging her supplies.
27
Abby pep-talked me the entire time she worked her magic.
“Your face is a wonderful canvas,” she said as she did about twenty-five more steps than I normally do before I walk out of my apartment in the mornings. “You have really good structure. Like Tyra Banks or Uma Thurman.”
“Yeah, right,” I scoffed.
“You only see them after they’ve had people like me working on them for an hour… or two… or three or four,” she said with a sly smile. Then she went back to being earnest. “I was really happy when Tyra started releasing pictures of herself without makeup. She did this book on beauty and makeup years and years ago, and that was the first time she ever allowed herself to be photographed without makeup – so women could see what she really looks like. And since then she’s been a lot more open about it. Don’t get me wrong, she’s still cute without it… but she could walk past you on the street and you’d never take a second look at her. And don’t get me started on Uma. Or anybody else you might care to name. Kim Kardashian, Scarlett Johansson – ”
“But they’re still beautiful,” I protested. A pep talk about world-famous beauties being ‘average’ wasn’t much of a pep talk.
“They are when you put them next to a bunch of ordinary women without makeup on. But I could take at least half of those ordinary women and use makeup to make them look five times better than Tyra or Uma without makeup.”
“Come on,” I said skeptically.
“It’s true. No woman alive can compete with the manufactured images they put out there in magazines and movies. Hell, no movie star or supermodel can compete. No one looks like they do on magazine covers or movie posters. They Photoshop the hell out of everybody. They make their waists slimmer, their boobs bigger, their noses smaller, their skin clearer… nobody can compete with that. Nobody.”
“So why do you do this?”
She smiled. “Because I like making women feel like this.”
She held up a hand mirror so I could see myself.
The reaction I’d had when I saw the haircut Javier gave me?
Multiply that times ten.
An otherworldly beauty stared out at me from the silver frame. I looked like I had just the barest amount of makeup on my cheeks and skin – except for my eyes, which were somewhere between natural and sultry. All of Abby’s work accentuated them, made them seem like jewels – especially my eyelashes, which were thicker and fuller than they’d ever been in my entire life. My lips looked full and luscious, my skin flawless and glowing.
“Que hermosa,” Javier said, almost reverently.
Sebastian turned around from his phone conversation. “Oh my God,” he said, and almost dropped his phone.
I turned slightly so I could see myself fully in the bathroom mirror. Sebastian, Javier, and Abby all stood behind me, beaming down at me.
“Thank you… all of you…” I said, starting to cry. “I’ve never…”
Without warning, Sebastian smacked me in the back of the head, the way Mark Harmon does to Tony on NCIS.
“OW!” I yelled.
“Do not ruin all of Abby’s beautiful work, or I will personally stick you with the bill,” Sebastian snapped.
“Okay, okay,” I grumbled.
Sebastian crossed his arms and looked at me with a critical eye. He seemed satisfied. “Cinderella is ready for the ball. Well, after we put her in the Prada, that is.”
“If I’m Cinderella, does that make you my fairy godmother?” I asked mischievously.
Sebastian arched one eyebrow at my reflection in the mirror. “You did not just use the term ‘fairy’ godmother in relation to me.”
He seemed genuinely offended.
“I didn’t mean it like… sorry,” I murmured.
He looked at me for a few seconds more… and then gazed at himself in the mirror with barely suppressed self-satisfaction.
“But yes… yes, I am.”
Then he announced loudly, “Alright, people, let’s get Cinderella in the dress, because the fairy godmother has to get back to work.”
28
By the time may nails were painted and I was fully dressed (and Abby had worked some extra makeup magic emphasizing my cleavage), a limo showed up outside the apartment building.
“You got a limo?!” I gasped as I watched it roll up.
“As I said before, Connor got you a limo,” Sebastian corrected. “He just doesn’t know it yet.”
“I can’t believe you.”
“Please, I’m not going to make you look like Miss America and then send you off in a Yugo.”
The paparazzi had abandoned their vigil a month earlier, so it was safe to go outside. We all went out as a group onto the sidewalk where I hugged both Abby and Javier goodbye.
“Don’t kiss them, you’ll mess up the lipstick,” Sebastian ordered as I leaned in. “And don’t touch your face to them, you’ll smear the makeup.”
“Fine,” I snapped, then went gingerly back to the hugging. “Thank you both so much.”
Javier grinned. “Good luck, Lily.”
“You won’t need it, though – you look fantastic,” Abby smiled.
“Thanks to both of you,” I said, my eyes misting up –
– until Sebastian smacked me again lightly on the back of the head.
“Don’t,” he warned.
“OW,” I pouted.
“Do you mind giving us a minute?” Sebastian said to his two helpers. “I need a moment alone with Cinderella.”
“We’ll be inside the apartment packing up, and then we’ll lock up when we leave,” Javier reassured me. “Goodbye, Lily.”
“Goodbye, Javier. Bye, Abby.”
“You, too,” Sebastian informed the limo driver, who was hovering nearby, waiting to spring into action and open the door for me. “I’ll see her inside, we’ll just be a minute.”
The chauffeur nodded and got back behind the wheel.
When we were finally alone, Sebastian turned to me. “You look lovely. Better than lovely; you look gorgeous.”
I was touched. “Thank you. And thank you for doing all this.”
“You’re welcome. Now – go and claim your man.”
I frowned a little. “What does that mean?”
“It means show up and say, ‘You’re mine, I’m yours, let’s cut the crap.’”
I stared at him. “You want me to say that? ‘You’re mine, I’m yours, let’s cut the – ’”
“Not in so many words,” he said, exasperated. “I want you to radiate it. Exude it.”
“But he’s not mine. He’s made that pretty clear,” I said, quickly sliding down the slope of momentary happiness into my old pit of despair.
Sebastian stamped his foot. “No! Be flirtatious! Be playful! Be whatever you were when you seduced him in the first place!”
“Actually, he seduced me.”
Sebastian breathed out loudly, an annoyed huff of air. “Jesus, Lily, what good does all this do if you’re not feeling it inside? Do you want him?”
I paused. Despite my bruised ego, despite the sadness I’d been drowning in for the last two months, there was only one answer:
“…yes.”
“That didn’t sound very passionate.”
“Yes,” I said more forcefully.
“How much?”
I hesitated, afraid to put myself on the line only to get rejected by Connor all over again.
“…more than anything.”
Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Maybe we should just forget this whole thing if you can’t work up any more passion than that.”
Motherfucker.
I grabbed Sebastian by his lapels and dragged him down towards me. “I want
him more than ANYTHING.”
Sebastian’s eyes widened in surprise. After a couple of seconds, he daintily removed my fingers. “Mind the tux, but good – good. Use that. You go in, you take your man, you make yourself irresistible – ”
The despair returned. “I don’t feel irresistible.”
“Well, you look irresistible. He could barely keep his hands off you when you looked like Peppermint Patty – ”
“HEY!”
“ – and now you look like this?”
Sebastian looked at the apartment building for dramatic effect, as though afraid Javier might overhear, then turned back to me.
“I swear, Lily, you’re almost turning me straight. Almost. Not quite. But almost.”
I laughed out loud. “I don’t believe any woman could ever turn you straight, Sebastian.”
“You’re right, I was just saying that for effect. But you do look stunning.”
“Thank you.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
I shifted my weight on my high heels nervously. “…I’m scared.”
“Of seeing him?”
I nodded. “And… what might happen. Or not happen.”
Sebastian thought for a second, his index finger pressed against his lips. Then he took it away as he started to speak.
“I’m sure Connor told you this, because he tells it to anyone who ever asks him advice on how to succeed. What did he say to do when you don’t feel confident?”
There was one piece of advice that stood out above all. In fact, I’d been using it the last two months.
“Fake it till you make it.”
“And that’s exactly what I want you to do tonight: go out there and fake it till you make it. And do NOT hold back. Forget all the bad things that have happened in the last two months, and use all the good feelings you have for him to power you through. But be seductive about it… and classy. Don’t throw yourself at him until he throws himself at you first.”
“What if he doesn’t?”
“Looking the way you do, it won’t take long, believe me. But until he does, tease him. Remain mysterious. And always, ALWAYS leave him wanting more.”
I smiled mischievously. “Thank you, Fairy Godmother.”
Sebastian glared at me playfully, then kissed the top of my head. “You’re welcome. GO. I’ll see you there… and I’ll be watching. You’re not on the list, so when you get to the reception area, tell the head of security to call Johnny and tell him ‘a woman in a red dress is here to see you.’ Use those words exactly. If you have a problem, you have my number.”
I nodded.
Sebastian opened the door and held it for me. “Go and claim your man.”
I smiled, got inside… and then Sebastian shut the door behind me.
The limo set off down the street.
29
I was a nervous wreck on the way. It was a good thing there wasn’t room to pace because I would have been walking back and forth as fast as possible, flapping my hands.
In 7 o’clock traffic, it took more than half an hour to get from Hollywood to the Strip. Sunset was packed with cars – and it looked like a fair amount of it was headed for the Dubai. There were limos out the ying-yang, not to mention Maybachs, Lamborghinis, Aston Martins, Bentleys, and a dozen other luxury brands. BMW’s and Mercedes were the poor cousins at this shindig.
The valet staff was four times larger than when I’d stayed here, and they were still running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Chickens with exceptionally nice, pristine, white uniforms, that is.
Our limo got in line, but it was moving glacially slow, and we were probably still a tenth of a mile or more away. My stomach was all tied up in knots and I just couldn’t stand the waiting anymore, so I looked for a button to talk to the driver – like the intercom button in Connor’s Bentley. I couldn’t find one, so I finally leaned forward and rapped on the window partition.
The dark glass buzzed down and the driver looked back at me.
“Yes ma’am?” he asked politely, which was ludicrous – he was at least ten years older than I was and calling me ‘ma’am’? Jeez.
“I can just get out here,” I said. “That way you don’t have to wait.”
“I’ll be waiting anyway, ma’am.”
“Stop calling me ma’am. Please.”
“Sorry,” he grinned, then went back to serious. “But I’m supposed to wait until you’re ready to leave.”
“But I have no idea when that’ll be, and I don’t want to make you – ”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s all taken care of.”
“Oh… well, go get some food or something. You don’t have to wait around here, I might be awhile.”
He smiled and handed me a business card through the partition. “Just call that number whenever you’re ready to leave. Doesn’t matter how late, just enjoy yourself.”
“Thanks.”
I put the card in my black clutch, along with my cell phone, driver’s license, keys, $40, and some lipstick and touch-up supplies Abby had given me.
“You sure you don’t want to wait until I drive up? There’s champagne back there if you want some.”
“No, the walk will do me good. Thank you – what’s your name?”
“Todd, ma– um, Todd.”
I smiled at his last-second catch on ‘ma’am.’
“Thanks, Todd. I’m Lily. See you later… I think.”
He smiled back. “Good luck, Lily.”
And with that, I got out of the limo in the middle of Sunset, closed the door, and started my walk towards the Dubai.
30
I walked past the waiting lines of limos and wondered if this was what Academy Awards night looked like. It was crazy.
I made my way past the valets, whose heads kept swiveling so hard I thought they might get whiplash. I wasn’t sure whether it was because of my makeover or because they might have recognized me from the news. Either way they were all polite, and I entered the lobby undisturbed.
The Dubai’s lobby was just as luxurious as the first night I’d seen it. Even more so, since the opulent surroundings were filled with men in tuxes and women in evening gowns – most of them gorgeous, others daring, a few ill-advised, but all of them worth more than I used to make in a year as a secretary. There were famous faces everywhere, too: movie stars, television stars, rock stars, all of them mixed in amongst dozens of older men and women I’d never seen before, whom I figured were instantly recognizable to anybody who read Forbes Magazine.
Except for one quartet in the middle of the lobby, who were recognizable even to me.
My stomach plummeted when I saw them: Augustus and Lenora Templeton, Vincent, and Miranda Lockwood.
What the fuck are THEY doing here?!
They were surrounded by dozens of other people – some of them bodyguards, some of them businessmen, some of them reporters holding out microphones. A small film crew was recording the whole thing.
Mr. Templeton was holding court, saying something that everyone else was paying careful attention to. Mrs. Templeton hung on his arm with a smug, self-satisfied smile. Vincent and Miranda greeted people who walked up to them – mostly a lot of old, rich white men, none of whom I recognized.
The Templetons were dressed to the nines, but Miranda was resplendent in a coldly sparkling dress that looked like someone had melted down a million diamonds and somehow poured them into a flowing cascade of cloth.
I ducked behind a boisterous group and let them be my camouflage as they made their way through the crowded lobby. I might have escaped entirely unseen, but at the last minute I got a stupid urge – probably the same urge Lot’s wife felt right before she turned into a pillar of salt. I turned back to look…
…and saw Miranda staring right at me.
Remember the Greek myth about the hero who cuts off Medusa’s head so he can kill the Kraken? (The movie will do if you haven’t read the story.) If Perseus had ever gazed directly at Medusa, I think I’ve
seen the look that would have turned him to stone.
Cold, dark hatred blazed out of Miranda’s eyes. I felt like she was invading my brain, turning everything inside my skull to icy slush. It was a look straight out of a horror movie, the moment where the serial killer and his prey see each other across an empty field.
I turned away and fled.
Safe once again amongst the crowd, I let them sweep me along like a river. After a few minutes we came to a massive set of doors manned by a dozen hulking men in suits with gun holsters peeping out from under their jackets.
The guns immediately made me twice as nervous.
People were checking in with a guy holding an iPad. Most of the guests were getting their hands scanned on a piece of equipment set up on a table by the door.
I waited my turn in line until I reached Mr. iPad. He was a massive dude, shaved head, very intimidating, never mind the thousand dollar suit.
“Name?” he asked politely.
“Lily Ross, but I don’t think I’m on the list.”
All the conversation within earshot immediately shut down. At first I thought I had committed some major faux pas by admitting I wasn’t on the list, but when the whispers started, I immediately figured out why:
They recognized my name.
After all, it had been all over the national news just a couple of months ago.
The guy raised his eyebrows but said nothing as he checked his iPad. Then he shook his head. “No, you’re not on here.”
“I’m supposed to have you contact Johnny… um…”
Crap, I’d forgotten his last name.
“Connor’s bodyguard. You’re supposed to tell him that a woman in a red dress is here to see him.”
The man’s eyes dropped briefly to my gown, then whipped back up as he spoke into a walkie-talkie. “Mr. Inaba, there’s a woman here in a red dress to see you.”
There was a brief moment of silence, during which my heart threatened to pound out of my chest.
Then Johnny’s voice came over the radio. “Roger, I’ll be right there.”
Clearly surprised, Mr. iPad smiled at me and gestured off to the side. “He’ll be right here. If you wouldn’t mind, could you step off to the side to wait for him?”
All That He Loves (Volume 2 The Billionaires Seduction) Page 24
