11. Cameron #2
“Don’t even go there, Fagin,” I warned with a smile. “That’s not in our contract.”
“I’m glad you remember,” she wagged a finger at me. “Topless dining was definitely not part of the equation!”
As much as I wanted to keep joking with her, I knew we needed to keep it professional. After all, she’d been clear in our contract, and I wasn’t about to make her uncomfortable before we’d even begun.
“Why don’t you take the dress off—"
“Excuse me?” She took a bigger step back from me, pretending to be horrified by the suggestion.
“So I can pay for it,” I laughed. “We need to get moving.”
“Hold on, I want to check the price first,” she said, twisting around to try to find the tag.
I spotted it dangling in the middle of her back, so I pulled it off before she could grab it and start complaining.
“It’s taken care of,” I said as I walked out of the dressing room. “They have heels ready for you as well. Don’t say a word.”
I glanced back at her right as she snapped her mouth closed. “Fine.”
I gave her a wink. “Good girl. So you can listen.”
“Oh my god,” her indignant voice echoed from behind me as I strode to the register. “Did you just praise me like a dog?”
I chuckled and kept walking.
A short while later, the dress was in a hanging bag and Jimmy was ferrying us to a salon whose owner had helped Veritique with a few advertising campaigns. The resulting promotion had been so incredible for her that she’d promised me an open door if I ever needed last-minute help.
Felicity eyed the place suspiciously as we walked to the front door. “Are they going to spackle and shellac me?”
“Well, if we’re staying with your car analogy, I’d say it’s closer to buffing and waxing.”
She froze on the sidewalk. “No, Cameron, come on. That’s so not me. I don’t feel comfortable caked in a ton of makeup.”
“Do you think I want to be seen with someone who looks like a mob wife?” I asked her.
“I promise you, Andrea is an artist. You’ll love the way you look.
If you don’t, you can wash it off and have her start over.
” I paused. “She’ll hate you for it, but she’ll do whatever you want until you’re happy. ”
She sighed and followed me in. “This is so weird for me.”
“Just go with it. Pretend to enjoy it, okay?”
I knew it would only take a few minutes in the staff’s capable hands before she relaxed.
I found my gaze bouncing between my phone and Felicity as they got to work, because something about her always seemed to draw my eye.
And it was clear that it wasn’t just me she affected—she charmed everyone she came in contact with.
I knew from my team’s feedback that Felicity had an easygoing, cheerful vibe, but I enjoyed seeing her in action.
Sure, she had no desire to be in the chair with someone doing her hair and someone else working on her manicure, but she smiled and chatted away like she was having the best day of her life.
I knew firsthand that she had no trouble standing up for herself if she thought someone was being rude to her, but when her hackles weren’t raised, she really cared about treating everyone with warmth and kindness.
It was quite a departure from most of the women I’d dated in the past.
They whisked her away to another part of the salon, so I was finally able to focus on the work piling up.
It was way too easy to get lost in Felicity-world.
I needed to keep my eyes on the numbers, to make sure the legacy I’d inherited remained at number one.
Thanks to Lucy’s #RingingintheRomance shenanigans, the buzz around Veritique was all positive for a change.
I took a quick break to navigate to Felicity’s social media pages and noticed that she’d already hinted we were going to be out and about tonight. The woman was savvy as hell. Our partnership, both the professional as well as the manufactured personal side, was already paying dividends.
I got lost in work, taking a few calls and sending a dozen emails as I waited for Felicity. When I finally checked the time, I realized we needed to get moving if we expected to make it to the restaurant on time.
“Hey, Mr. O’Connor,” a voice came from behind me. “What do you think of your scruffy little pickpocket now?”
I turned to find Felicity absolutely transformed. She was back in the dress with her hair smoothed and shiny on her shoulders. I stared at her, awestruck.
She walked closer to me, her smile widening. “You were right again. I shut my mouth and trusted the process, and I love the way I look. It’s like me, but with more sparkle. Check it out.”
Felicity closed her eyes and leaned toward me so I could see the pinkish shimmer on her lids. I wanted to drink her in, to tilt her chin this way and that so I could admire every facet of her beauty.
I swallowed hard. Sitting across from her all night and keeping my hands to myself was going to be a challenge.
Given our charade, I’d be fully in my rights to take her hand in mine.
To give her cheek a gentle caress. And hell, once the cameras showed up, I was contractually bound to lean in for a kiss. Or two.
“You’re not saying anything. You don’t like it?
” Felicity sounded worried, and she spun around to look at herself in a large mirror in the lobby.
“Is the blush too much? Or the lashes? It’s the lashes.
They put those giant fake ones on me and now I see that they totally look like spiders on my eyes. I’ll have them take them off.”
I strode up behind her. “Felicity, stop. You look incredible. I was, uh, I was speechless, to be honest.”
She turned to face me. “Oh, so it’s the opposite extreme? You’re not used to seeing me look this good, and you’re in shock that I can clean up. Got it.”
I shook my head in frustration. “Fagin, you exhaust me, you know that?”
“Good,” she giggled. “I like keeping you on your toes. Just so I’m sure, we agree that this look works for tonight?”
She did a slow, model-esque turn for me, and every angle revealed something new to admire.
The beautiful, creamy skin of her back and shoulders, her spun-gold waterfall of hair, her full lips, slicked with a pinkish shine that would make kissing her a challenge—but which made them look so tempting that I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist, even if it meant getting some of that gloss on me.
I cleared my throat and tried to release the tension pressurizing me. “Yes. Yes, it works.”
“Okay, so now I can stop obsessing about how I look and start getting nervous about being the center of attention.” Her happy expression slipped. “I think we’re going to have quite the audience. I’ve been watching how our hashtag is trending.”
I resisted the urge to grab her hand. It wasn’t time for that yet.
“Felicity, listen,” I began, waiting for her to stop staring at herself in the mirror and focus on me. “Yes, this evening is going to attract a lot of attention, but the core of it is us, together. And we already know you have no trouble holding your own with me, correct?”
The corner of her mouth kicked up. “Correct.”
“So just focus on that, and you’ll be fine. Trust me.”
“Trust you?” she snorted out a laugh. “Nah, I’m not sure if I can do that yet. But I do trust the process, and the contract you signed. So I guess you’re right. I’ll be fine.”
She winked at me and headed for the door with her shoulders back. It felt like false bravado, but, as I reminded myself, the whole night was one big charade.
Even if it really didn’t feel like one.