“You’re nervous. I get it,” Marvin says. He stands behind me and, taking the gown from the hanger, holds it in front of me. Without a word he walks us toward a full-length mirror.
Valerie’s reflection joins ours, and she scoops my hair up and holds it in place. “So, what do you think?”
“It’s beautiful,” I choke out, and it truly is. The soft white satin is overlaid with a delicate lace. The gown has a sweetheart neckline and travels a few inches past my knees.
“And you will look beautiful wearing it.” Valerie wastes no time securing my hair back with hair pins from a pocket in her tunic. “Lucian was most insistent that you wear one of the gowns from his mother’s collection. Please, try it on, and I will make the required alterations. We will need to take a few inches from the bottom, take the sides in and—”
I lift my hand. “Wait. Once you make these alterations, the dress can’t be changed back, can it?”
“That’s right, flower,” Marvin says, and spins me around to face him. Try as I might, I can’t escape his gaze, and I figure that is the way he wants it. “Lucian wants the dress perfectly tailored to fit you, and only you.”
Farrah insisted we get ready together in her bedroom, and we do. She is most insistent that I do her hair and makeup. This I don’t mind, because it brings a bit of normality to this completely abnormal situation.
After I apply the final touches Farrah asks if she can do my makeup in return. This is something I like to do myself because I know which shade of foundation matches my complexion and which eyeshadow compliments my colouring.
I grip the makeup brushes in a chokehold, knowing she won’t be able to prise them from between my fingers. I suck in my lips and try to think how I’m going to decline without hurting her feelings. That is until I see the excitement that is so evident in her stare. I grew up with a sister one year my senior, whereas Farrah grew up with three brothers much older than her. Doing one another’s makeup was something Amber and I took for granted, but something Farrah never experienced.
One by one, my fingers loosen around the brushes. “Sure.”
Farrah claps her hands together. “Fab!”
To my horror, Farrah spins the stool I’m sitting on around so I’m facing away from the mirror. Letting a seventeen-year-old do my makeup is one thing, but me basically being blind during the application spikes my anxiety. I smile and use the tips of my toes to spin the stool back around, but Farrah captures my shoulders and holds me in place. “Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”
I shrug and laugh, though my laugh is devoid of any genuine humour. “Of course I trust you. A girl your age, I imagine you do your makeup all the time.”
Farrah lets out a girlish chuckle. “I mean, no. That’s what my stylist, Sandra, is for. But I watch her apply my makeup all the time.”
Dear God. Any other day would be fine, but Lucian has told me repeatedly how important this evening is to him. I could end up looking like Bozo the Clown.
“Now hold still. I’d hate to make a mistake and have to start over.”
I hadn’t realised that while Farrah held me in place, my feet continued to move in a last-ditch attempt to spin the stool around. I would feel a little happier and a lot more in control if I could at least see what she was doing.
Farrah’s expression transforms from excited to hurt, and I immediately hold my feet still. I take a deep breath in. Worst-case scenario I will take a pack of cleansing wipes in my clutch and redo my makeup in the restroom when I arrive.
“Okay, I’m ready,” I say and watch as Farrah leans into me. Her eyes are narrowed and her tongue is poised on her top lip, the look of concentration evident on her face. I tilt my head back and close my eyes and sit in silence as Farrah gets to work.
“So, when did you fall in love with my brother?” she asks at the same time the foundation sponge glides across my cheeks.
Her question throws me, and I am grateful that I’m not looking at her. My eyes move rapidly from side to side under my lids. I hate lying to people but I can’t say nothing. I think of the limited times I have been in Lucian’s company, and the answer hits me.
I open my eyes. “It sounds hard to believe, but actually it was when Lucian helped me clean my flat.”
Farrah laughs. “I don’t believe you.”
My stomach tightens and it feels as though I’ve been caught with my hand in the sweet jar. “I’m not lying.”
Farrah lowers the foundation sponge and finds the powder brush. “I never said you were. It’s just in all my life, I’ve never seen Lucian clean anything. You must have asked him very nicely.”
“I didn’t ask him,” I answer honestly and smile at the memory. At how he used antibacterial spray to clean the windows. I didn’t have the heart to tell him he was doing it wrong, and he didn’t seem to notice the large smears across the glass. It didn’t matter because he took time out of his busy day to help me, and that meant a lot. No, more than a lot, it meant everything.
“I can see it in your eyes.” Farrah sighs and clasps the powder brush to her chest with a faraway look in her gaze.
“See what?” I wonder if she has managed to get makeup in my eyes without me knowing.
“The look of love,” Farrah answers simply.
I laugh her comment off, but don’t deny the fact. Not because I’m pretending to be in love with Lucian, but because, well, I don’t know why. Despite our first meeting two years ago when we got off on the wrong foot, I’d be lying if I said that Lucian hasn’t been the perfect gentleman since then. He had my flat decorated after Tyler’s party and most important of all is that he had my baby nephew’s clothes cleaned and placed back into the ottoman.