"Wait. Your spa grooms dogs too?"
She hands me a gold-trimmed leather menu that looks like a wine list in a super expensive restaurant. I scan the doggy spa prices and nearly choke.
One hundred and fifty dollars for a "Pawdicure"? Two-fifty for something called a "Blueberry Facial Rejuvenation"?
"Snorty’s still a puppy," I stammer, thinking he's way too young for rejuvenation.
"We provide comprehensive canine aesthetics," she says with a straight face.
"Aromatherapy baths, deep conditioning, massage—the works.Many of our clients consider their pets' appearance as important as their own." She lowers her voice. "Some, even more important."
Before I can respond, Antoine cuts in. "Give him everything. The premium package."
Snorty makes a weird little sound. Half yip, half whine. I can't tell if he's excited about being pampered or terrified of what's coming.
"Miss Smith, please put on this robe and lean back into the sink."
I slip the silky salon robe over my new outfit and settle back as instructed.
The stylist's fingers massage my scalp, working the shampoo into a mountain of bubbles that smell like expensive flowers.
I close my eyes, letting myself enjoy this rare luxury.
From my right, I hear Snorty's high-pitched protest. I peek through one eye to see his little paws scrambling in the air as a woman in a white uniform lowers him into a raised grooming tub.
Poor guy usually hides under the bed when I even turn on the bathroom faucet.
"It's okay, sweetie," his groomer coos, scratching behind his ears as she applies the blueberry facial scrub. "Such a handsome boy deserves to be pampered."
To my surprise, Snorty stops fighting after the initial plunge. His tiny pink tongue lolls out as the warm water and gentle hands work their magic. He even murmurs contented little grunts of pleasure.
When my stylist finishes at the sink, she proceeds to blow my hair dry. Antoine excuses himself to take a phone call.
I stare at my reflection, barely recognizing myself as the stylist separates my blonde strands into soft waves that frame my face.
The woman who looks back at me is no longer the 'schoolmarm' who greets my mirror each morning back home.
The woman in the mirror looks like the type of woman who could very believably sit by Rio's side as they fly by private jet to a performance in Ibiza.
Or spend a few days on a yacht with Rio in St. Tropez.Definitely the type of woman who would be photographed having lunch with him in Rome's Via Dei Condotti or a quaint cafe in Paris.
I like this new woman.
And I hope to get to know her better.
CHAPTER 12
MADDIE
“You look lovely,” Antoine pronounces, looking me up and down. “And now that Snorty is finished with his beauty treatment, let's prepare for the press conference.”
He gestures to the garment bag delivered from Veronica’s boutique. "Put on the jacket. It will provide the perfect structural counterpoint to the jeans and T-shirt."
I slide my arms into the ivory blazer. It feels expensive. Heavy silk lining, perfect tailoring. It narrows at my waist, accentuating my shape.
Antoine steps back, nodding. "Perfect. Now you're ready to face the wolves."
“They’re not that bad, are they?” I ask, hating the slight wobble of fear in my voice.
