“Wow.” The soft exclamation fell off my lips before I could stop myself.
The professional really outdid herself on this one. The makeup was perfect. It matched my skin tone: light and natural. My light brown hair fell in effortless waves down my shoulders, and my lips were painted a bold shade of red.
“You look amazing,” the makeup artist said to me, a small smile tugging at her lips.
“Thank you,” I replied, unable to suppress my grin.
Why did my jailer go the extra mile to transform me into this powerful woman? Where exactly was he taking me?
Did he forget I was his prisoner? What the hell was going on here? Should I be worried?
He fed me well for five days, and now he had me dressed up like a goddess. Why? Was this some sort of ritual? Because I was starting to feel a lot like a sacrificial lamb.
You heard Agata. He’s probably taking you to a gala, a place that’s gonna be filled with very rich and powerful people. Of course he wants you to blend in just fine. He wants you to look the part,a quiet voice whispered in my head.
That made sense.
But it didn’t answer the question: Why?
What was his reason?
Why me?
Maybe I’d ask him once I saw him. Maybe. Maybe not.
“And now, some finishing touches,” the makeup artist said, clasping a pearly necklace around my neck. It matched my dangling earrings, adding a touch of sophistication to my overall look.
“There. Perfect.” She gazed at my reflection in the mirror.
My lips curled into a small smile, pleased by the woman looking back at me.
Once ready, Agata led me out of the room and into a lit hallway, brightened by crystal chandeliers. Portraits were mounted on the walls on both sides, and the air smelled faintly of something rich and expensive.
I followed behind Agata, my heels clicking against the fine marble floor. The more corners we turned, the more certain I was that this was his mansion. The place was enormous, and everything screamed luxury.
She reached the head of a curved staircase and stopped. “He’s waiting in the living room downstairs,” she said, looking back at me.
It was a subtle way of saying this was where her journey ended. I must continue on my own from here.
She beamed an encouraging smile at me and stepped away, gesturing at the stairs. I heaved a quiet sigh, grabbed the polished railing, and began descending the stairs.
He looked up from the living room, a hand in his pocket, his expression blank as usual. He wore a black suit that fit him perfectly. His dark brown hair was neatly combed, contrasting with the shadow of stubble along his jaw.
Those cold steel-blue eyes were fixed on me as I walked down the stairs, nice and easy. A flutter rose in my chest when I met his gaze, and the closer I drew to him, the faster my heart raced.
His eyes swept over my body, head to toe, as if drinking in the sight of me. His expression remained unchanged, and so there was no telling whether he liked what he saw or not.
But none of that mattered. I didn’t care what he liked or didn’t like anyway. Besides, it’s not like I wanted to impress him or anything.
He watched me reach the base of the stairs, but still didn’t say a word. Yet his eyes never left my face. I stared back at him, refusing to admit how insanely attractive I thought he was.
“What’s this, a staring contest?” I broke the awkward silence, my eyes boring into his.
He blinked once. “You’re late.”
“You said to be ready at eight.” I glanced at the silver watch around my wrist. “This is just…ten minutes past eight.”
“Time is money, Miss Hendy,” he said, his voice a bit huskier than it should be. “I do not appreciate wasting it.” He brushed an invisible dust off his coat and began heading toward the door.
