eyes narrowed with consideration.
“Please?”
She laughed. “Of course I’ll help you, but I’m still keeping my money on you two knockin’ boots before this is all over.”
“Noted. Now what about this one?” I held up a long-sleeved, floor length, deep navy dress for her to inspect.
She wrinkled her nose. “Maybe if you were my grandmother. What’s with the sleeves?”
I hung the dress back up. “I have to wear sleeves to cover my tats. I don’t think they would go over too well with this crowd.”
“Hmmm.” She nodded and dug back into the rack she was standing by. “What about this, then?”
She held up a short, black cocktail dress. The dress itself was strapless, but it had a separate wrap that I could wear over the top that would cover my arms and shoulders but still show off a small panel of skin on my back, adding a little extra flair to an otherwise simple look.
“With your hair curled, some red lipstick, and black-winged eyeliner,” Hannah explained. “You’ll be a knockout.”
I flipped over the tag, surprised to see it was only thirty-eight dollars. “Sold!”
We raced through the check-out process and went back to my apartment where Hannah effortlessly applied my makeup and gave my normally sleek, black hair some soft, natural looking curls. I slipped into the dress, making sure all my ink was covered, and did a final twirl in the mirror.
“Thanks again, Hannah. You’re a lifesaver. Way better than any fairy godmother!” I waved as we both parted ways in front of my apartment building as she went left and I went right.
“Stay out of trouble tonight!” She waved back.
I strode down the street, knowing that if anyone was going to be in trouble tonight, it was going to be Mr. Brighton. If I got a chance alone with him—and there was a 99.9% chance of that happening—I was going to make sure he knew exactly what I thought of him and his carcinogenic product line. Once he knew how I really felt about his products, maybe then he’d realize I’m not the right girl for the job after all and this nightmare could finally end.
***
I made my fashionably late—thanks to my screwy GPS system—entrance about twenty minutes into the event. I was escorted to a front table and seated just as Mr. Brighton was introduced and brought out on stage to give his presentation. I nursed a cocktail and tapped my fingernails along the edge of the table, unable to contain my irritation.
“Good evening. Thank you all for being here with me to celebrate the launch of the Plush fall collection. This company was my father’s creation, and I would hope that he would be proud of this latest reincarnation if he were here to see it.”
His father died? At least that’s how it sounded. I stopped tapping the table and leaned forward to focus on his face as he spoke. The arrogant cloud I was so used to seeing around him seemed to have vanished, for once. He looked humbled and authentic. I had expected his suit and tie persona to be magnified when all eyes were on him. It threw me off to see him like this.
“I want to thank all of you here tonight for being a part of this company and for helping my father’s legacy to grow and evolve. Thank you. I won’t bore you all with a lengthy speech. Just please enjoy yourselves.”
He nodded at the crowd and right as he turned to exit the stage, his eyes met mine and he froze, offering a warm smile. My stomach dropped and my heart started doing double-time. I smiled back and then dropped my gaze to the table in front of me. I didn’t have to see him to know that he was headed in my direction. Something about the air, the room, told me he was getting closer. However, when I finally dared to look up, he was gone.
“Good evening, Miss Rand,” his voice purred in my ear. I jolted upright in my seat and whipped around to find him seated next to me.
I hated how jittery I felt, being so close to him, but I couldn’t help it. He overwhelmed me. He smelled like