He chuckles, waving a hand.
"No, chérie. That wouldn't be appropriate for your persona. I thought you'd like to wear it under your clothing this weekend."
I give him a skeptical look. "Why? I brought my own panties and bras. You think I travel commando or something?"
Antoine suppresses a smile. "No. Think of it as engineering."
"Engineering?"
"Confidence is architecture, Maddie," he says.
"If the foundation is utilitarian cotton, the house will slump. If the foundation is silk and lace, the house stands tall. It makes a woman feel powerful to know she's wearing a secret."
"Right. I'll take your word for it."
The other packages reveal a bottle of perfume in an elegant crystal vial and a gorgeously colored scarf, soft as a cloud.
"Oh. And here's a gift for Snorty," Antoine adds.
"Look, Snorts!" I say, handing him the small package.
Though he's too young tohave experienced a Christmas morning in his life, he tears open the wrapping with his paws like any toddler.
"Nice! It's your own French Bulldog toy," I tell him, waving the soft plush toy in front of his face.
"I have something else for him as well," says Antoine, his eyes sparkling as he hands me the package to open.
Inside is a perfectly ironed black bandana with that discreet skull motif. A replica of the one Rio tied on Snorty during the press conference.
"I ordered several. The press absolutely loved seeing Snorty looking like a miniature Rio.”
Antoine flashes me a picture on his device.
It shows Rio and Snorty at the press conference, their attractive smiling faces close together in a two-shot. "Just an hour ago, one of the tabloids posted this photo."
I take a closer look. The caption reads: Rocker's signature bandana.Who wore it better? Rio or the Frenchie?
"Sweet," I say. "Look Snorty, you're famous."
But Snorty's too busy playing with his toy to respond.
"Make sure you have Snorty wear the bandana any time you're in public. It will build brand recognition for the band."
"Oh, Antoine, thank you. This is like Christmas morning!"
"That's what I aimed for. Now it's time for you to wear the dress I designed for you to wear to dinner tonight," Antoine replies, moving to the wardrobe rack.
He pulls out a long pink gown with a fitted bodice and a sweeping, ballroom-style skirt. It is gorgeous—elegant, timeless, and regal.
Like something from an old Grace Kelly movie.
"But this looks so formal," I say, fingering the heavy silk. "Are we going dancing? What is the full program?"
"You will dine at another formal restaurant in the hotel," he explains.
"Yes, there is dancing, but it won't be too stuffy. We are in Las Vegas, after all. Put it on now, and we will go straight to dinner."
"Wait," I say, looking at the door to Rio's room and then at my watch. "Shouldn't you call Rio and tell him to come up andchange?"
