Antoine pokes his head in.
“Stunning shots. Now dress for dinner. The restaurant's waiting, and my photographers will be there to chronicle the action. Remember to make your every word, gaze, and touch sizzle for the cameras.”
Maddie sits up, clutching the towel tight to her chest She shoots me a look that's more spark than storm.
I watch her take Snorty and return to the changing room, the sway of her hips igniting fresh interest.
Without her, the small massage room feels empty. Hollow. Like something lively and vibrant was sucked right out of it.
When the weekend ends, I’ll miss her. More than I should.
CHAPTER 16
MADDIE
After the spa's steamy haze, Antoine walks me back to the suite.
"Did you enjoy your spa treatment in the lagoon?"
"Yes," I say, my skin still tingling from the brisk lagoon water and the massage.
But especially from Rio's accidental brushes that left me flushed.
I'm glad he begged off early to rehearse with the band.
I fish out the key card and swipe it, pushing open the door to our lavish suite.
But as we step inside, I freeze.
While we were gone, someone transformed the living room into a high-fashion showroom.
A rolling wardrobe rack dominates the space, bursting with colorful garments on padded hangers—dresses, blouses, skirts. All chic and tailored.
A half-dozen packages sit neatly on the coffee table, all wrapped in elegant paper and ribbons. Like treasures from a fairy tale.
"Oh my God, Antoine. Are these the items you sketched out earlier today? The custom pieces?"
He smiles, pleased. "They are. Impressed?"
"Amazed," I say. "I've heard of custom couture, but this takes it to a whole other level. It's like a dream closet exploded in here."
"This is Las Vegas," he replies with a wink. "Excess is the name of the game."
My gaze drifts to the packages. "And these? Who are they for?"
"You," Antoine says. "Not exactly presents, but the shops here are accustomed to orders as gifts. Usually from admirers to their companions."
My curiosity is piqued. "Since they're for me, I'll open one." I unzip the carrier to let Snorty free.
He immediately trots over to inspect the coffee table, sniffing the expensive decorative paper.
"Come here, Snorty, help me unwrap it," I say.
I pick up a package tied with delicate ribbons, the paper rustling as I untie it.
Lifting the lid, I blush instantly. Nestled in tissue is a delicate set of bra and panties—lacy, sheer, the kind that screams seduction.
"Oh my gosh," I say, holding it up gingerly. "Lingerie? Antoine, what is this for? Am I supposed to model it for a shoot?"
