Page 292 of The First Taste

"Good. I hope you’re as happy with your transformation today as I am. Because honey, you look like a million bucks."

I flush, my first thought being that I am only worth half a million so far.

I tuck my hair behind my ear and smile softly. "Thank you. Thanks to the whole glam squad."

"It was our pleasure," Stephen says. "Call us anytime. I can have more rolling racks brought to you anywhere in the world. All you have to do is say the word."

Dare’s world may not turn out to be so bad if it’s populated by people like Stephen. I shake Stephen’s hand and change my shoes, then look in the mirror a final time.

I lookcompletelydifferent. If my soon-to-be fiancé isn’t impressed by this groomed, polished version of me, I don’t know how else I can impress him. Pulling in my stomach and straightening my spine, I turn to the rolling rack once more. I begin sorting through the rack, making hasty decisions about which garments will blow Dare’s mind.

Twenty-Three

Dare

Igrunt and throw the stylus down next to my computer tablet. Looking at my watch, I find that three hours have passed. Not that I can really claim that I’m surprised or anything.

I drafted memos and read through a lot of the legalese about the specifics of paying for Morgan Drilling’s deep sea mining rights.

It’s familiar work, comfortable in its way. But now that I stand up and stretch, I have a strange feeling.

Usually, I embrace my work. I relish the fact that I’m the only one who can do what I do. But lately, I’ve had the sense that my other life, my quote-unquote "real life," is crowding in around the work life I’ve worked on creating for so long.

It’s odd, that feeling. The guilt that I ought to read just one more brief and write another memo sticks around with me like a speck of glitter that you just can’t manage to get off your skin three days after you visit the strip club.

And still, I am pulled toward the hallway. Curiosity is my main motivation. But if I were to be perfectly honest with myself, I would want to see the work I paid the glam squad to do.

I find Talia in the sunroom, sifting through the rack of clothing. She turns to me with a subtle smile on her face. My mouth opens, but I can’t seem to make my brain form a single whole word. Instead, I stare at her, my expression one of perfect surprise.

I left behind a sad, worried creature with a tendency toward snapping at my hands. But now I am looking at a petite, slender goddess with red hair and flashing blue eyes.

Her toned legs look ridiculously long in the silver minidress I picked out. Her perky tits and tiny waist astound me. She pushes a hand through her hair, which falls below her shoulders in a timeless, effortless-looking hairstyle.

She notices me gawking at her and blushes, but she doesn’t break eye contact. Instead, she turns to the right, posing like a model would at the very end of a runway.

"Holy shit," I exclaim. “I can’t believe you look that good."

She tosses her hair and gives me a pained look. "Gee, Dare. Way to flatter a girl."

My neck heats, but I suck in a breath and refuse to be shamed. "That’s not what I meant. What I meant…" I look her up and down again, more than a little caught off guard. "Goddamn. You are hot."

“I got a freaking haircut. Chill out.”

I look her up and down. “You are definitely a completely different person from the mousy little girl that I sent stylists in to fix.”

“I know what it is.” Something in her face tightens and shifts. “I think I look more like Daisy and all of the wealthy women you’ve dated than I did before.”

Pursing my lips, I shrug. “I don’t know what the problem is. I don’t see anything wrong with you looking more like women of my echelon.”

Talia snorts.

“I got a makeover to fool all the wealthy people in your orbit. But it seems like you just needed me to dress a certain way and wear my hair just so to think I’m worthy of you.” Her nose wrinkles. “It’s so shallow.”

“It’s shallow to want my fiancée to dress like she has two cents to rub together? Huh, I guess I am what you say I am then.”

She rolls her eyes and wanders closer. From this distance, I can now see that she’s wearing a thick coat of black eyeliner and a shimmery shade of eyeshadow that makes her eyes seem iridescent.

"I came to look for you, but you were working." She crosses her arms, cocking her head to the side as she approaches. "So? Do I pass the test? Am I acceptable to you now?"