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The second woman grimaced. “Mm…but maybe something to bring out her eyes instead?”
“I selected something for this evening when I called in and spoke to Romilly earlier, but how about both of the others as well?” Nicolas said. “Miss Boucher will need attire for tonight and a few more suitable outfits for future events. She also has an appointment at the salon for hair and makeup, if she’d like to make use of it.”
One of the women clapped her hands together. “Perfect. We’ll deliver her back to you evening-ready.”
“I look forward to it.” Nicolas smiled at me, his gray eyes full of the kind of dark promise that made my breath catch in my throat.
He left me alone with both women, who turned speculative eyes on me as they talked among themselves.
The excited one who’d clapped her hands turned toward the dressing room. “Let’s see where Romilly put your outfit for this evening,” she said. “You can start by taking a look at that before we check you in at the salon.”
“Do you do this often? Style someone?” I couldn’t hide the curiosity in my voice. Maybe Nicolas had an endless stream of women he dressed and styled like dolls.
“In general or for Mr. Dupont?” The more sedate woman watched me.
“Both,” I said.
“In general, yes. It’s our job. But for Mr. Dupont? No, never.”
The excitable woman picked up the story again. “Although Romilly would do anything for him since he helped her when she was having all that trouble with her ex. Do you remember?” She glanced away as she received a glare from her colleague. “He was just so kind, and Romilly stopped being so scared,” she finished.
I followed the two women into a delicately perfumed dressing area.
“Oh, it looks like Romilly left everything right here,” one of them exclaimed, and my face flooded with sudden intense heat as my gaze moved right over a dress in soft gray that looked like it would fall to my knees in front and mid-calf at the back to a set of delicate lace lingerie in white.
“Mr. Dupont is a man of very good taste,” one of the women murmured, and I was no longer paying attention to who was speaking.
All of my attention was focused on the clothing he’d selected for me to wear. Right down to the items no one usually saw. Except he’d know exactly what lay against my skin, what I wore under the beautiful dress. It was on the tip of my tongue to refuse. To pick something else out for myself. But with what money? I’d made a deal to spend one month with him. And part of me wanted to be the kind of woman—a beautiful woman—who wore clothes like these.
Hair and makeup was a whirl of activity that finished with me wearing a deceptively simple looking updo that revealed my neck but took more hairpins than I’d ever seen in my life to maintain, and I’d been given perfect smoky eyes.
The gray dress fit me like it had been tailor-made.
“Good taste and a great eye for sizing.” Jealousy flashed fleetingly through the talkative woman’s gaze, but it was quickly replaced by approval as she turned me to look at myself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror.
“Wow,” I muttered. I wasn’t sure even Harry or Pierre would recognize me. The dress was beautiful but not too much for a date in a restaurant. The lace and delicate beadwork across the bodice caught the lights but didn’t overpower the fabric. And I didn’t look like I was late to my own prom. I was understated but glamorous. Perhaps even worthy of a date with a high-rolling Baton Rouge casino owner.
The old-fashioned bell over the door tinkled lightly as Jason walked in, and when he saw me, he stopped, freezing almost statue still. Then he recovered and smiled. “I’m here to take you to meet Nic. Are you ready?”
The sensible woman inside me tutted and huffed a sigh under her breath, but the excitable woman too close to the surface spoke. “I can’t believe you needed to ask.”
Jason grinned self-deprecatingly. “I never assume.” Then he turned to me. “Nic’s waiting for you by the helipad.”
One of the women who’d helped me get ready inhaled sharply, and Jason led me from the store, mostly ignoring my flurry of thanks to the two women. Just before I left through the door, the quieter lady handed me a gray pashmina wrap.
“In case you need it,” she murmured. “Although with Mr. Dupont at your side, I can’t believe you’ll be cold.”
Nicolas stood at the edge of the roof as dusk fell, his back to me as he surveyed the city spread before him. His hands were clasped behind his back, and he looked more like a shadow than a man in another one of his tailored black suits.
A sleek silver helicopter sat silently a short distance away. Well, it looked sleek to me, but I’d never stood close enough to another one to compare.
“Do you like what you’re wearing?” Nicolas’s voice sounded from right next to me, and I startled.
I’d been so busy looking at the helicopter, I hadn’t even heard him move. Then my cheeks seared as I remembered he probably meant all the clothes. Even the lingerie he’d chosen. But I nodded. “Yes, thank you.”
The back of his knuckles skimmed down the side of my neck from the bottom of my ear, and I shivered at his light touch as heat coursed through me.
“Are you cold? Let’s get airborne.” He approached the helicopter, and Jason appeared seemingly from out of nowhere and opened the door. Nicolas Dupont really did have staff for everything. There was probably even a guy who welcomed him into the bathroom and bowed gratitude on his way back out, or something.
