Another hour later, I feel like I’ve made a new best friend.
“I can’t believe you shot him!” I cry, covering my mouth with my hands as I try not to laugh.
“I was aiming for someone behind him, but I’m not the best shot yet,” she tells me, grinning at me in the mirror as she curls my hair. “I’m still pretty new to all this.”
My makeup is already done, and I barely recognize myself. My features have never looked so sharp, so defined. A soft champagne eyeshadow shimmers across my lids, catching the light with every blink, with a delicate sparkle layered on top. The winged eyeliner elongates my eyes, making them appear larger, more striking. My skin looks flawless, the foundation blending seamlessly with my naturally tanned complexion, as if it were made just for me.
“So, if you work with Enzo… with the organization… how come you’re here doing my make-up?”
She barks out a laugh. “Well, for one, that man out there doesn’t exactly make many friends, so I doubt he had anyone else to ask, and two, when Enzo Russo calls, you answer.” She shrugs at me like it’s obvious.
“You’re friends?” I ask, even though I want to add ajustin there.
She sees right through me. “Don’t worry girl, your man's safe from me. Not enough pussy for my liking.” Her eyes rake over me. “You though…”
My shoulders shake as I laugh. “Good to know. But he’s not my anything.”
She purses her lips. “Does he know that? Because the way he looked at you.” She waggles her eyebrows suggestively and my heart stutters.
I wave my hand at her. “We’re childhood friends. He doesn’t look at me like that.”
“But you look at him.” She doesn’t phrase it as a question, but she tilts her head.
“I’m married,” I say, even though the thought of that has bile rising in my throat. It’s not like the marriage is real, or something I plan to keep long term. But I feel the need to give distance between Enzo and me, to make my feelings for himseem wrong.
She raises her hands at me, stepping back. “Alright, alright. We’re done here. Don’t think I didn’t notice that you didn’t disagree with me.”
My cheeks heat, but I don’t say anything.
Noemi heads over to the bags she brought and rifles through them until she pulls out a tiny slip of a dress. Dress might be an exaggeration for how little fabric this thing has.
Fear skates through me at the thought of wearing something so revealing. My bruising is pretty much gone, save for a few patches of yellow, but that’s not what has my chest seizing. It’s the thought of men seeing me like that. I’ve never been shy before, never felt uncomfortable in my own skin, but Lucas has taken that from me.
Forcing myself to breathe and push through it, I take the dress from her arms.
“I’ll let you get dressed,” she tells me before she leaves, closing the door behind her.
I’m still in one of Enzo’s shirts, having had no other options before now. Reluctantly, I unbutton it and pull it off my shoulders until I’m naked.
The dress itself is too flimsy for underwear, but it does include some padding in the boob area. Determination not to let Lucas win has me slipping it over my head. I close my eyes for a moment, breathe deeply, then look in the mirror.
The dress is skin-tight with a black lace pattern. The hem rests lower on my thighs than I expected, probably due to my short frame, which I’m thankful for.
A pair of champagne heels to match my eyes sits by the door. I slip them on; the shoes add about three inches to my five-foot-two height.
A knock sounds on the door. Expecting it to be Noemi, I call out to tell her to come in.
But it’s not Noemi.
It’s Enzo.
His gaze travels over me like he’s memorizing every inch. The heat in his expression surprises me, but then it’s gone, and I wonder if I imagined it.
He swallows before speaking. “You lookamazing,Cuore mio.”
I can’t stop the way my cheeks turn red. “Thank you,” I mumble.
“You ready?”
