A knock startles me, and I jump out of bed, wrapping my arms around myself as I open the door to find Lisette, dressed in all black with an apron tied around her waist. "Good morning, Miss Morgan," she says cheerfully. "You have an appointment at the spa for nine a.m., and I didn’t want you to miss it. Would you like coffee or something to eat before you go?”
“I can get it.” Even though Lisette seems like a nice woman, I’m not used to people waiting on me.
“Oh no, dear. I’ll get everything started, and you come down when you’re ready. I’ll have options.”
I nod, even though I don’t know what she means by options. Twenty minutes later, I’ve taken a quick shower and overthought what one wears for a spa morning before settling on plain jeans and a simple t-shirt. Lisette has a spread of breakfast options on the island counter when I enter the kitchen. Croissants, Danishes, a variety of bagels, eggs, bacon, potatoes, fruit…
“This is way too much…”
She waves her hand. “Nonsense. Just grab what you’d like. Once I know your preferences a little better, it will be easier. But no pressure, dear.”
She’s being too nice, and it makes me anxious. I’ve learned that nobody in this city is kind for free.
Trying to push those thoughts away, I pluck a blueberry bagel from the options and graciously accept a cup of coffee from her.
After I eat and finish the rest of my coffee, I head down to the spa, with instructions on how to get there from Lisette. The moment I step through the frosted glass doors, I realize I’m out of my depth.
A team of people clad in serene-blue uniforms stand, waiting for me. One of them introduces herself as Margot and goes through the list of treatments that Asher ordered. There’s a facial, waxing, manicure, and pedicure. It’s more than I expected when he told me I’d be having a spa morning. A mani/pedi has always been reserved for special occasions in my life.
Margot hands me a glass of champagne and leads me to a changing room, telling me to undress and put on a fluffy robe. I do, even though thoughts are moving slowly, and I can’t process everything that’s happening.
This feels like something out of a rom-com.
“I wasn’t expecting all this…” I tell Margot when I exit the changing room. I'm intimidated by these people. I've never been doted on like this. I barely even get my hair cut twice a year. Pampering is a luxury I can't afford.
Margot’s pink-painted lips lift into a sweet smile. "Mr. Caine wants you properly prepared for your engagement photos." She leads me to a room that smells of lavender and is lit with candles. "Don't worry, we'll take good care of you."
Logically, I know this is part of the deal. It's normal for two people getting married to take engagement photos. But the concept has me feeling nauseous, considering it’s all fake. The next step is announcing our engagement, and once that news is out, I can't take it back.
I'll forever be associated with Asher Caine.
"Are you well?" Vivian asks, lifting her hand to feel my forehead. "You look pale."
"I'm fine." I swallow the lump forming in my throat. "Everything's fine." But nothing actually feels fine. I might throw up at any second.
Why in the world did I agree to this?
A million dollars. That's why.
I suck in a breath and try to steady myself as I lie down on the table. The new woman, whose name I’ve already forgotten, places a warm towel over my face.
"Try to relax," she murmurs when I flinch at the temperature. "This facial will help with any stress."
Relaxing seems impossible when I feel like I'm being prepped like a show pony.
It's becoming more and more apparent to me how different Asher and I are. How am I supposed to keep up this charade? I'm not qualified to be a billionaire's wife.
Panic thrums through my veins as my head starts to recall all the things I've failed at in my lifetime.
Not good enough.
Not good enough.
Not good enough.
That I'm not good at anything.
"Your heart is racing," the esthetician observes, fingers pausing on my pulse point. "Deep breaths."
