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CHAPTER FORTY

VERITY

“Ow! Can you be a little gentler, please?”

“Oh, hush. Stop being such a baby.” Hannah stabs another bobby pin into the updo, scraping it along my scalp.

“Hannah,” I grit out through clenched teeth.

“It’s not my fault you have such a sensitive skull. Like, seriously.”

The process repeats itself another five or six times until she is satisfied that the braid won’t move. I would like to be a little more pissed, but she is doing me a favor. The stunning braided updo she’s spent the last half hour working on is gorgeous—it looks just like the girl in the video tutorial. She even pulls a few tendrils of hair loose to frame my face and uses an obscenely thin curling wand to give them a soft curl.

“Hold your breath.” Hannah gives the command at the exact same time she releases a cloud of hairspray onto my hair, basically cloaking my head in the stuff.

Our tiny bathroom fills with a vague haze, a testament to the sheer quantity she just sprayed out. There isn’t a chance in hell of even a single strand coming loose tonight.

“There. All done.” Hannah grins at me like a proud parent.

“Thank you, my goddess.”

She lets out a sigh. “I’ll admit. I’m a little jealous. I haven’t gotten all fancied up in ages.”

“You are literally wearing a bedazzled mini dress.”

The skintight, strapless bodycon dress she currently has on is covered in pink rhinestones, with a heart cutout between the boobs. One of her DJ friends is playing at a new rooftop nightclub, and she went all out.

“This is completely different. You’re wearing a gown; I’m wearing a party dress. There’s a big contrast between a black-tie event and a nightclub.”

I’m not wearing said gown just yet. I was way too nervous to put it on while doing my makeup, worried that a stray drop of foundation would splotch onto the rich fabric.

The gown was delivered three days ago, courtesy of Cullen. The sneaky asshole had bought it for me even though I’d told him not to. I tried to give it back; I went so far as to bring the garment bag down the next morning while he was waiting by the lamp post with two fresh croissants. He told me he cut off the tags and threw away the receipt, so there was nothing I could do unless I wanted it to collect dust in his closet.

“It would look far better on you than wasting away on a dressing rack,”he told me.

I was torn. It’s the same stunning dress I had been captivated by at the department store before Imani had scared the ever-loving crap out of me. It is utterly stunning, a gorgeous midnight blue satin with a pleated bodice that flows into a rippling skirt. It is like the night sky reflected in the ocean.

I am in love with it, but I also know that it cost half my yearly salary—and that terrified me a little.

“All righty, let’s get you zipped up.” Hannah grabs the gown from where it hangs off one of the light fixtures in our living room. We didn’t have anywhere else to hang it without thebottom of the dress getting all crumpled on the floor. “Come on, strip.”

I slip out of my sweatpants and then contort my arms out through the neck of my tank top before shimmying it down my body so I don’t mess up my hair.

Hannah’s upper lip curls.

“What?” I raise my hands over my boobs, suddenly feeling self-conscious even though we’ve seen each other nude a million times.

“You’re not wearing that underwear, are you?”

I look down at the plain black briefs. “Why? They’re seamless.”

“I don’t care if they’re seamless, you have to wear something sexier with this dress.”

“No one can see my underwear, Han.”

“Your boyfriend.”

My cheeks heat up at the thought of Cullen unzipping the dress and laying me bare in just a small thong and fuckable heels. “Good point.”