Chapter 16
MADDIE
After the spa's steamy haze, Antoine walks me back to the suite.
"Did you enjoy your spa treatment in the lagoon?"
"Yes," I say, my skin still tingling from the brisk lagoon water and the massage.
But especially from Rio's accidental brushes that left me flushed.
I'm glad he begged off early to rehearse with the band.
I fish out the key card and swipe it, pushing open the door to our lavish suite.
But as we step inside, I freeze.
While we were gone, someone transformed the living room into a high-fashion showroom.
A rolling wardrobe rack dominates the space, bursting with colorful garments on padded hangers—dresses, blouses, skirts. All chic and tailored.
A half-dozen packages sit neatly on the coffee table, all wrapped in elegant paper and ribbons. Like treasures from a fairy tale.
"Oh my God, Antoine. Are these the items you sketched out earlier today? The custom pieces?"
He smiles, pleased. "They are. Impressed?"
"Amazed," I say. "I've heard of custom couture, but this takes it to a whole other level. It's like a dream closet exploded in here."
"This is Las Vegas," he replies with a wink. "Excess is the name of the game."
My gaze drifts to the packages. "And these? Who are they for?"
"You," Antoine says. "Not exactly presents, but the shops here are accustomed to orders as gifts. Usually from admirers to their companions."
My curiosity is piqued. "Since they're for me, I'll open one." I unzip the carrier to let Snorty free.
He immediately trots over to inspect the coffee table, sniffing the expensive decorative paper.
"Come here, Snorty, help me unwrap it," I say.
I pick up a package tied with delicate ribbons, the paper rustling as I untie it.
Lifting the lid, I blush instantly. Nestled in tissue is a delicate set of bra and panties—lacy, sheer, the kind that screams seduction.
"Oh my gosh," I say, holding it up gingerly. "Lingerie? Antoine, what is this for? Am I supposed to model it for a shoot?"
He chuckles, waving a hand.
"No, chérie. That wouldn't be appropriate for your persona. I thought you'd like to wear it under your clothing this weekend."
I give him a skeptical look. "Why? I brought my own panties and bras. You think I travel commando or something?"
Antoine suppresses a smile. "No. Think of it as engineering."
"Engineering?"
"Confidence is architecture, Maddie," he says.
"If the foundation is utilitarian cotton, the house will slump. If the foundation is silk and lace, the house stands tall. It makes a woman feel powerful to know she's wearing a secret."
"Right. I'll take your word for it."
The other packages reveal a bottle of perfume in an elegant crystal vial and a gorgeously colored scarf, soft as a cloud.
"Oh. And here's a gift for Snorty," Antoine adds.
"Look, Snorts!" I say, handing him the small package.
Though he's too young to have experienced a Christmas morning in his life, he tears open the wrapping with his paws like any toddler.
"Nice! It's your own French Bulldog toy," I tell him, waving the soft plush toy in front of his face.
"I have something else for him as well," says Antoine, his eyes sparkling as he hands me the package to open.
Inside is a perfectly ironed black bandana with that discreet skull motif. A replica of the one Rio tied on Snorty during the press conference.
"I ordered several. The press absolutely loved seeing Snorty looking like a miniature Rio.”
Antoine flashes me a picture on his device.
It shows Rio and Snorty at the press conference, their attractive smiling faces close together in a two-shot. "Just an hour ago, one of the tabloids posted this photo."
I take a closer look. The caption reads: Rocker's signature bandana. Who wore it better? Rio or the Frenchie?
"Sweet," I say. "Look Snorty, you're famous."
But Snorty's too busy playing with his toy to respond.
"Make sure you have Snorty wear the bandana any time you're in public. It will build brand recognition for the band."
"Oh, Antoine, thank you. This is like Christmas morning!"
"That's what I aimed for. Now it's time for you to wear the dress I designed for you to wear to dinner tonight," Antoine replies, moving to the wardrobe rack.
He pulls out a long pink gown with a fitted bodice and a sweeping, ballroom-style skirt. It is gorgeous—elegant, timeless, and regal.
Like something from an old Grace Kelly movie.
"But this looks so formal," I say, fingering the heavy silk. "Are we going dancing? What is the full program?"
"You will dine at another formal restaurant in the hotel," he explains.
"Yes, there is dancing, but it won't be too stuffy. We are in Las Vegas, after all. Put it on now, and we will go straight to dinner."
"Wait," I say, looking at the door to Rio's room and then at my watch. "Shouldn't you call Rio and tell him to come up and change?"
"No need. I had his outfit delivered to his dressing room."
"You really are on top of everything," I mutter.
I take the dress and head toward my room. Then I pause and turn back.
"Antoine, can we talk for a minute?"
"Of course."
We settle on the sofa. Snorty abandons his toy to curl up between us.
"Thank you for listening to me earlier," I say, picking at a loose thread on the cushion.
"It was wrong of me to be so resistant. To complain about Rio."
Antoine waves a hand. "It is quite all right. And I am glad you did. It helps me understand the dynamics between you two so I can do my job."
"But it's hard to shake my anger toward him.,” I say. “Every time he flashes that arrogant smirk, I remember exactly why I haven't spoken to him in four years. And it's hard to fake a loving response to please your photographers."
As I speak the words, under all the irritation, something else simmers. Something I hate admitting even to myself.
"Then you're not channeling that anger in the right way. Use it. The camera loves emotion. Now go get changed."
In my room, I slip into the pink gown. The fabric hugs my curves like a second skin, the fitted bodice accentuating what the spa's warmth had already flushed.
The bottom of the dress swirls elegantly as I move. It makes me feel different. Powerful. Seductive.
Rio is still a jerk for shadowing this whole weekend with his rock-god attitude.
Yet his natural charm slips through every so often. Reminding me of the fantasy version of my brother's best friend I crushed on so many years ago.
I step out into the living room.
Antoine nods, looking satisfied. "Stunning. You look ready for the spotlight."
Snorty yips approvingly from the sofa, his short stub of a tail wagging.
I cast one last look in the mirror, taking a deep breath.
"It is showtime."