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Chapter 8
Josh stood back and looked at my eyes. He was doing my make-up and just knew how to do it so perfectly so that I looked natural—my eyes sort of popped and my lips looked luscious—I was hoping that would be how The Russian saw it.
“Okay, I think you are done,” he said.
“Josh, you’re the best, thank you,” I said, glancing in the mirror. “It looks brilliant.” I jumped up from the chair in front of the main balcony windows—Josh liked to have plenty of light when he was working—and folded up the makeup clothes protector he had draped around my shoulders.
“I am dying to see this dress on,” he said, “then we’ll get a pic, send it to Sasha and let the tweeting and sharing begin. And another with Alex when he arrives,” he added almost as an afterthought. The Russian was my every thought at the moment.
With a glance at the clock, I raced in to change; The Russian would be arriving in twenty minutes. The only time I could remember feeling that excited was playing in our Suns grand final the year before. I had bought new underwear during the week too ... not that I necessarily expected to be sharing it with The Russian – it was officially only our first unofficial date, but I wanted to be prepared.
I slipped on the cream and lace brief and matching strapless support bra; they were a gorgeous set and felt beautiful on my skin. I slipped my feet into my strappy, high heel, silver sandals with just a hint of bling, and then the dress. I unzipped the long zip at the back and removed it from the coat hanger. I carefully stepped into it and slid the smooth and slinky gown up my body, placing the thin straps over my shoulders. It was beautiful, absolutely beautiful. With Sasha’s dress and Josh’s make-up, I felt like I was the best I could be ... this was me, highlighted. Does that make sense? I might never be as good as I was at that moment ever again.
I grabbed my small, matching clutch bag and checking I had a compact, tissue, lipstick, comb, mirror, credit card and house keys, proclaimed myself ‘ready’. I opened the door and Josh gasped.
“Oh my, just stunning,” he said, clasping his hands together.
“It feels amazing, Josh, and with your make-up too, I’m blown away,” I said. “Zip me please?” I asked, turning around. I felt the zip close the dress snugly around me, and I turned to swirl the skirt as the generous layers of fabric swelled out from my hips down. “What would I do without you and Sasha? I feel like a million dollars.”
“You look gorgeous,” Josh said again. “Quick, a couple of pics of you in the gown first so Sasha can put them up on her designer website.”
I glanced at the clock again; the closer it got to The Russian’s arrival time, the more nervous I became. I wondered if he was nervous at all or if he would be like he always was ... cool and calm.
Josh snapped a few shots with me doing glamour-type poses, front and back, and then, the intercom buzzed.
I breathed in and moved to answer it. I could see the small image of this beautiful man in a tuxedo in my doorway. He’s here,thank you God, thank you – I said my silent prayer of thanks.
“Hi Russian, come on up,” I said, and buzzed him through.
Josh went to open the door to The Russian while I raced back into my bedroom to fuss a bit more, check my hair, dress and make-up once again. I heard their voices outside, and taking a moment to prepare myself – seriously I was more nervous about going to the Ball with The Russian than I was about getting up on stage later and making a speech.
I walked through to the living area. I saw his face light up, really light up. He’d had a haircut – super sexy short back and sides which showed off those beautiful high cheekbones and chiseled jaw, and he was holding a dozen long stem red roses ... he knew how to take a woman on a date.
“Wow,” he said. “You look absolutely beautiful.” He just said it so naturally, no spin, that I heard myself laugh.
“Thank you, Russian. You look gorgeous too.”
“You do,” Josh agreed, “you both do. Now photo, come on, Carla promised Sasha the scoop.”
I saw The Russian wince.
“She made a dress for me in four days and she is the Saints media officer, I kind of promised her,” I said.
“She’s a pain in my butt,” he said, good-naturedly, “but she’s done a mighty job on the dress.” He handed me the roses.
“They’re stunning, thank you.” I inhaled the roses, they were perfect, just past the bud stage and almost ready to bloom.
“I’ll put those in water,” Josh said, taking them off me and putting them down on the kitchen counter. “Let’s get a quick photo, and get you two out of here,” he said.
We found a neutral wall to stand against and as I went to place my hand on the Russian’s arm, he put his arm around my waist instead and pulled me in closer. Forget going out, I could just stay there. He smelled beautiful, he was groomed to within an inch of his life, his haircut really suited him, although I liked the longish hair on him too and that tux .... I was hoping I would get a chance to get it off him. Josh framed up the shot.
“Alex and Carla dressed by ...?” Josh asked.
“Tom Ford and Sasha Saxon, make-up by Josh Turnbull,” I said, with a grin.
“Done,” Josh said. “Now have fun kids and behave,” he teased. “Have her home by tomorrow?”
The Russian smiled, opened the door for me and I stepped through. My dream night was finally here.
