“You looked beautiful this morning, even in that ridiculous uniform.”
My heart stutters and I leave before I do something stupid.
Like believe him.
By the time I reach my room, Lara’s already there. A few shoe boxes are on the bed, and a massive makeup case is on the vanity.
She grins when she sees me.
“Alright, Cinderella,” she says. “Let’s get you ready for the ball.”
I want to be irritated, to tell her that I don’t need her help. I want to tell her that this whole thing is ridiculous.
But instead, I find myself grinning back at her. Just a little.
CHAPTER 12
THEA
Lara is laying out makeup brushes like surgical tools when there’s a knock at the door.
“That’ll be Valentina,” she explains when she sees the confused look on my face. “Did I forget to mention her? We’re not just pulling something off the rack for you, babe. We’re doing this right.”
“Valentina?”
“Valentina Russo. She’s a designer. She does custom work for half the women in New York. Gabriel called in a favor.”
My stomach flips. “Hewhat?”
Before I can protest, Lara’s already opening the door.
A striking woman sweeps in, late thirties, wearing all black, her dark hair pulled into a severe bun. She’s carrying three garment bags and radiates the kind of confidence in her own skin that I can only dream about.
“Lara,ciao,” she says, kissing her on both cheeks.” Then she turns to me, her sharp eyes assessing. “And you must be Teodora.”
“Thea,” I correct.
“Thea.” She sets the garment bags on the bed with reverence. “Gabriel tells me that you need something spectacular. I brought options.”
“I–I don’t know if I can?—”
“Can what?” she asks, peering at me from behind her thick red-framed glasses. “Wear a dress?” She shakes her head, the faintest whisper of a smile appearing at the corners of her mouth. “I assure you, you can. Now, let me see you. Turn.”
I turn awkwardly, feeling like a specimen under a microscope.
She circles me, humming softly. “Beautiful structure. Gorgeous proportions. And that skin—mamma mia. You’ll look stunning in jewel tones.”
“I’m not really—” I start, but she’s already unzipping the first garment bag.
“This,” she says, pulling out an emerald-green gown that shimmers like liquid. “This will make men weep.”
Lara whistles. “Oh, yeah. I think this is the one.”
“There are two others,” Valentina says. “But we try this first,si? Into the closet.”
I’m standing in the walk-in closet, staring at myself in the full-length mirror, when I hear the door to my room open.
It’s a male voice, low and familiar.
