“Well, thank you,” I say a little nervously, looking to Zander and wondering if we really have to go tonight.
“Okay!” Anthony claps his hands then puts them both on his hips. “First thing’s first. You,” he points to Zander, “need to go.”
“Bullshit,” Zander replies with a stern look on his face. His chiseled arms are crossed over his chest. He’s not going anywhere.
Anthony scoffs errantly. “You can’t seriously be here while she’s getting ready!” he cries. “Where’s the surprise in that?”
“I’ll watch TV.”
“Oh fine. Whatever. Men.” Anthony groans under his breath, waving his assistant further into the room.
***
I’ve tried on what feels like a million dresses and Anthony has given some type of negative look or noise in response to every one thus far. I think all of them looked nice. Some were a little sexy, some were elegant, but all of them were fine. He could choose blindly and I’d be fine with it.
I take a deep breath and open the bathroom door, preparing for another disapproving look from Mr. Purple Pants. I step out wearing the light gray chiffon A-line dress. It has silver beaded straps and a V-neckline. I feel beautiful in it.
“My, oh my,” Anthony croons, his index finger tapping his chin. “You, my darling, were designed to wear this dress,” he says, rushing to me to pick and fidget at the flowing chiffon material.
“Holy shit. Does that mean I don’t have to try on any more dresses?” Hearing Anthony’s approval causes a little zip of relief to rocket through me.
“Nope. This is it. Definitely the one.”
“I agree,” Zander rumbles from where he’s standing by the suite’s panoramic window. Goosebumps spread like fire over my skin.
“Well, go ahead then. Give us a turn,” Anthony orders.
I straighten my shoulders and sashay in a small circle for the three men in the room. It feels amazing.
“Perfect,” Anthony chirps, clearly proud of himself.
I stare at Zander as he stares at me. We lock eyes for a long moment, neither one of us wanting to look away first.
“Enough already,” Anthony interrupts. “Go take it off so we can get your hair and makeup done. Wear the robe, please.”
Reluctantly, I turn away from Zander’s profoundly intimate, appraising stare and get back into the bathroom to change into the terry cloth robe like Mr. Purple Pants ordered.
***
Anthony tinkers with my hair a little more, then dabs another coat of lipstick onto my lips and sighs his approval. I’d be flattered, but he isn’t necessarily complimenting me. He’s complimenting himself and his hard work.
It took him a while with my hair and I’ll hand it to him, I look as glamorous as any star on the red carpet. He took his time trimming the ends before washing, blow drying then finally styling it.
I’m not even really too sure how he did it, but he curled my hair into tight ringlets in some places and big, loose waves in others, then used hairpins to organize the mass of hair into a sort of perfectly sloppy, loose, soft bun low in the back. Random tendrils of hair hang down almost sloppily, but I think that’s what I like best. It isn’t some slicked back, shiny, styled up-do. It looks like my hair is like this all the time and I just shoved a few hairpins into it. No one is that goddamn lucky to have hair this great, but Anthony has made it appear that I do. With a generous amount of hair spray holding the style in place, he moved right along to my makeup.
My brown eyes have never shown so bright and warm. Hues of gray and vague traces of dark purple are expertly brushed onto my eyes, creating a smoky look that I could probably never achieve on my own. My eyelashes are full and long. My lips are a deep, natural shade of pink.
“Shoes,” Anthony orders and his assistant, Liam, crouches down to slide the strappy silver heels onto my feet.
I feel like a Greek goddess. The dress, the hair, the makeup, the heels, all of it screams goddess and I feel special for the first time in a long time.
“Where did Zander go?” I ask, noticing that I can’t see him anywhere.
“He’s getting dressed.” Anthony answers, leaning back to inspect his hard work.
I look up to see a tuxedo-clad Zander come into view. I’m not sure if I gasped aloud or not. I’m not even sure if I’m still breathing.
He’s stunning. If I could see him in a tux every single day, I would. He’s one of those men that really wears a tuxedo. The black pants hug perfectly to his long, lean legs and his firm ass. His chest and shoulders fill out the jacket like it was made for him. His hair is combed just enough to look orderly but still distinctly Zander McBride, unbridled. I love it.
“My work here is done,” Anthony announces and curtsies with a proud smile on his face. A laugh rips through me at his antics. “Come on, Liam,” he orders. “Let’s get packed up.”