I scowl at the younger girl. “No one warned me about how fucking awful it would hurt to yank the hair out of my legs.”
“You nearly took my head off.” Leanna giggles.
True enough.
The strawberry blond aesthetician gave me no warning when she ripped the hairs from my legs with the sugar mixture she used. It hurt like hell, and I was so stunned that I nearly kick her straight in the face.
Twice.
Getting the Brazilian done is far less painful than my lower legs. That shit burns.
“Come on now.” Mia hurries me to drink my coffee as she waltzes into the closet. “Let’s get you in your dress so you won’t be late.”
Groaning, I set down my now empty cup of coffee, looking at it longingly, wishing it would magically refill on its own.
It doesn’t.
With Mia’s help, I manage to get the long, silken dress on without much trouble. It is soft and golden against my skin.
“There now.” Mia leads me to a full-length mirror inside the bathroom that is tucked in one of the small closets. “Don’t you look a sight.”
The woman in the mirror looks nothing like me. Well, she does, but I feel barely recognizable. Leanna has swept my long unruly locks into a side braid, twisting the ends up into the braid itself on the side. Long, thin pieces of hair frame my nearly naked face. I tell her I want simple. Nothing extravagant or too bold.
Neutral and simple, those are the two things I like the most, and she has done a spectacular job. My face is gently dusted with a bit of bronzer and blush to highlight the contours. She applies a smoky, neutral look to my eyes, blending out the harsh black lines of the eyeliner to give it a softer, gentler effect that complements my nude lipstick.
A pair of emerald crystal leaf earrings dangle from my ears to match the radiant shade of my silken dress.
It is a breathtaking piece of work. The dress. The V of the top is wide, settling past the edge of my collarbone, and dips to just before the end of my sternum. The sleeves cuff at my wrists, the fabric of the arms slit in just the right manner that allows the fabric to shift open, exposing the creamy expanse of my skin.
The top is separated by a silk piece of fabric that acts as a belt, tying up in the back, allowing the skirt to pleat at the top. The long skirt has a slit straight up my thigh that allows a glimpse of my silver Louboutin heels.
Now this is what a queen looks like.
Everyone is waiting for me as I stride into the foyer.
My breath catches in my throat at the sight of Matthias in a black tuxedo, his hair slicked back, stormy eyes shining. Damn, he makes that thing look delicious. His gaze holds mine. There is hunger there; I see it as his eyes dip from mine to wander over the curves of my body. The ones he says he loves.
Leon waits patiently next to him, his back to me as he whispers to Matthias, who looks like he is not paying any attention to what one of his top brigadiers is saying to him. Looks, though, are deceiving. Matthias sees everything. Hears everything. It is what keeps him alive for so long. He grows up having to decipher everyone’s body movements and expressions to sus out their intentions.
Paranoia is a thing when you have assassins after you all your life.
“You look stunning,” Matthias murmurs to me when I stop in front of him and Leon. The Italian frowns at hisPakhanbut nods his head in affirmation.
“Yes, very beautiful, Ava,” Leon comments.
“What’s wrong?” I ask Leon, a frown of my own forming.
“Nothing.” Matthias’s body tenses. “We are just discussing what vehicles we will be taking. It would be more prudent if we traveled separately. That way it will be harder to target all of us at once.”
“Okay,” I agree hesitantly. “You and I can take the SUV with Vas. Keep things as normal as possible.”
“We aren’t going together, Ava,” Matthias’s face hardens. In my heels, I am nearly as tall as he is. Still a few inches short, my head coming up to his eyes instead of just under his chin, but it gives me an advantage.
“I don’t understand. We have been doing well. I thought that you would want to go with your wife.”
Matthias pinches the bridge of his nose.
“We can’t go together.” He sighs, exasperated. “No one knows you are my wife.”
