Once inside the suite, they scurried in different directions to get ready.
Poppy’s voice drifted from the bathroom over music playing from the sound system. She was saying something to nobody in particular about “going full glam” and “showing these French fashionistas how it’s done.”
She emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of perfume and confidence.
“How do I look?” she asked, striking a pose. She wore a one-shouldered black silk dress and had pinned her curls up.
“Very old school glamorous,” Marielle told her.
“Gorgeous,” Olivia confirmed.
“I need help fastening my bracelet, though. It’s in my room.”
“Oh, I can help,” Chelsea offered.
“No, Olivia,” said. “I need you to help me with my makeup. You do the best smoky eye.”
She dragged Chelsea toward the bathroom.
Leilah eyed Marielle. “You go ahead and help her. It’s clear you need to have a private conversation.”
“Leilah, I don’t mean to be?—”
“Please. Between my fiancé and my brother, I can take a hint. I know you aren’t being rude. It’s your job. Go,” she shooed them away. “I want to touch up my lipstick anyway.”
“You always look glamorous,” Marielle told her.
“I know.” Leilah laughed.
Inside Poppy’s bedroom, Marielle fastened a chunky diamond bracelet around her wrist.
“Thanks. So what do I need to do.”
“You need to accidentally on purpose run into Brad Hampton.”
“Well, that’ll be easy.”
“It will?”
“Not the accidentally part. He sent a note backstage. He wanted to grab a drink after the concert. I didn’t even know he was in Paris.”
“You told him yes?”
Poppy tsked. “No, I told him no. I have plans with you four.”
“Can you invite him to join us?”
“Sure.” She was already pulling her phone from her gold clutch. “I’ll tell him to try to ditch his Secret Service detail. Can’t make any promises, though.”
They returned to the living room, where everyone else was waiting.
“Ooh la la,” Poppy vamped. “Look at us.”
“We’re pretty hot,” Olivia agreed, fastening her large chandelier earrings.
Leilah frowned at herself in the mirror. “Elle?”
“Yeah?”
