ChapterTwenty
Rosalia
Sebastian’s driver, Tom, hits the hazard button on the Bentley, then comes around to the sidewalk and opens the car’s door.
Paige exits, and I follow. Tom retrieves my gown from the front passenger seat, and I open my arms like I’m going to hug it.
I should tamp down my enthusiasm, but I love my gorgeous red dress.
Tom shakes his head. “I’ll carry it inside, ma’am.”
“What about the car?” I glance at the congested road. There hadn’t been a spot, so he parked in front of the elegant salon, blocking a lane of traffic.
“I’ll only be a minute.” He grins. “And it’s not like anyone will ticket a Blackstone vehicle.”
Paige leans close. “What do you think that feels like, wielding that kind of power?”
“Probably powerful. And it explains the Blackstone brothers’ arrogance.”
“True,” Paige says, stepping through the spa’s automatic door. “But after today, it’s difficult to dislike a particular Blackstone.”
That’s the truth. After agreeing to help Thorne, I’d kind of hoped spending time with Sebastian would reveal the coldness and pretentiousness I’d read so much about online and in the gossip papers. No such luck.
Inside the salon is like another world. The outside noise evaporates when the doors close. The only sounds are the gentle, trickling water from a nearby fountain and soft, ambient music. “This top-tier treatment is something else,” I mutter.
When we arrived at the dress shop, a salesperson was waiting for us. She took us into a dressing room as big as my entire apartment. Waiting for me were gowns in red, black, and sage lined up on a rack, along with an assortment of refreshments and snacks.
I glance at the garment bag Tom is handing to the man at the spa’s front desk. My pulse shudders and then races. The crimson dress is exquisite, but what if the bold color and style are too much for an elegant gala?
Tom tells me he needs to pick up Sebastian’s tux and deliver it to his office. He instructs me to call or text when I’m finished at the spa.
“You’re delivering his tux to the distillery?” I ask.
“He’s working until the party.”
A sharp pang of disappointment pinches me. I’d hoped we’d arrive together, but it’s ridiculous to crave those extra moments alone with Sebastian. I shouldn’t need him to calm my nerves before the event .
Shoving down my ridiculous sense of letdown, I thank Tom. Then Paige and I are whisked deeper into the spa. An employee with brown skin and eyes so light they look gold tells me that Sebastian informed them to give us whatever treatments we wish.
“I’ll just get started on hair and makeup,” I say.
Paige holds up an index finger to the spa attendant, turning to me. “We have a lot of time. Get a facial or massage.”
“There’s no sense because I’ll be tense as soon as I head to the gala.”
Paige squeezes my hand. “Don’t let those rich assholes make you small. You’re worth more than every million they have in the bank.”
“You’re ridiculous, but I love you for it.” I pull Paige into a hug. “Alright,” I say when we separate, “facials first? Then you can get a massage while they’re doing my hair and makeup?”
She agrees, and it turns out that the spa’s luxury facial includes a scalp, neck, and shoulder massage. The extras cost me prepping time, but with the masseur’s magic fingers and hands, I couldn’t care less.
“We need to schedule these monthly. No, weekly,” Paige says from the table next to mine.
The skilled therapist smooths warm, velvety massage oil over my skin, working out the knots in my shoulders, each touch sending waves of relaxation through my body.
“That’s a wonderful dream,” I agree. But I don’t think these will ever be in my budget.
And let me say right now, I’m regretting my life choices that led me to a place where I can’t afford them.
I should’ve used my business degree to work for a Forbes Global company so I could do this daily. ”
“We could combine forces. One building, but both our businesses.” Paige jokes. “We can call it Baked Books.”
I laugh. “That sounds like an accounting firm for crooks.”
After a moment of relaxed silence, Paige asks, “How are things going with your bookstore? Anything promising?”
“I have an appointment with the SBA next Tuesday,” I reply.
“I hope they’ll offer some guidance and help.
Just in case, I’m also applying for grants.
” My stomach twists. “It’s only three weeks until derby, and I need to have my financing options figured out before then.
” My internal clock is ticking like a bomb.
Every day that passes pulls me closer to an impossible choice. ”
“You got this. I feel it in my bones.”
Paige’s certainty is contagious. “You’re a fantastic baker, but you’d have made a hell of a Life Coach,” I tell her.
A warm towel is placed on my neck. “There’s no rush,” my masseuse says in his calm, quiet cadence. “I’ll wait outside while you both get ready. Afterwards, I’ll walk with you to hair and makeup.”
“What are you going to get done next?” I ask Paige. “I’ve heard a body scrub is amazing.”
“Nah, I want to come with you. See the transformation,” she says, sitting up.
I do the same. “Are you sure?”
Paige nods and a weight lifts from me. I touch her shoulder. “Thanks. I’d love your help. I have no idea what to do with hair or makeup.”
We are taken to a private room that has one of those electric massage chairs.
That lessens my guilt about Paige passing up primo self-care.
As soon as we settle in, the pretty spa attendant from earlier returns along with an older white woman with glossy black hair.
She introduces herself as Sade, telling us she is the stylist. She looks more like a yoga or triathlon instructor.
I soon learn that Sade is kind, patient, and very good at her job. She takes the time to explain evening makeup and what would look best with my coloring. She also gives easy tips for everyday wear. And though I’m not used to such bold makeup, the final result is amazing.
The same is happening with my hair. The three of us decided on a crown braid. Sade is nearly finished with the style, and I’m already in love with it.
“You are such a pretty palette to work on,” Sade says through a mouth of bobby pins, placing another in my hair. “I thought you looked great after makeup. You are flat-out stunning with this up-do. The epitome of elegance.”
“I just want to fit in. Not make a fool of myself.” The gentle tugging of the brush through my hair is oddly soothing, each stroke transforming my locks into a work of art.
It lessens the nervous energy tingling through me.
Kind of. I shake out my hands, accidentally bumping Sade and knocking a thin comb to the floor. “Sorry,” I say.
“Honey, you’ll fit right in.” Sade picks up the comb and lightly taps my ear with it. “And they’re just people, trust me. I’ve been making them look beautiful for years, and the stories I overhear would make your hair curl.”
“Want to share?” I hold onto the sides of my chair to keep from fidgeting. “And preferably one that showcases the fact that they don’t have perfectly polished, totally figured out lives.”
I’d told Paige of my fears of standing out like a hillbilly at a ball. She’s probably tired of my whining. Since Tom drove us to Glamorous Gowns, she’s had to listen to my litany of worries.
“I could tell you one about the man you’re going to this gala with…”
“Sebastian?” I ask, my stomach dropping.
Sade nods.
“How did you know who I’m going with?”
“Please, honey, everyone knows. You’re going to Kentucky’s fanciest event with the state’s most eligible bachelor.
” She looks at me in the mirror and grins.
“And Gus, the receptionist working today, received a call from Mr. Blackstone requesting a carte blanche afternoon for a mysterious woman. Trust me, everyone here is talking about it.”
A cold wave washes over me. Not at the loose-lipped Gus, but because of what Sade might tell me about Sebastian. What if I learn he has a harem of women or a sex dungeon? Okay, maybe I should worry less about his sexual tastes and instead about the ruthless nature Thorne and gossip have hinted at.
Sade keeps her gaze locked on mine, a little worry showing in her eyes. “You’re not going to spread this around or tell people it came from me, right? That family keeps their secrets locked down tighter than their bourbon recipe and yeast strain— ”
“Yeast strain?”
“Live here or date him long enough, and you’ll learn the importance. But what’s important now is that I have your word not to gossip about what I’m telling you.”
“Got it. Don’t gossip about the gossip.”
Sade snorts, playfully tugging at the braid she’s creating.
“Exactly. Now, I’ve never worked for Sebastian’s family.
They are the type that have the salon come to them, not the other way around.
However, a regular of mine is a close mutual friend of theirs.
She’s one of those clients who sees her beautician as her secret keeper—or at least, the keeper of others’ secrets. ”
“Anyway, let’s start with Daddy Blackstone.
He’s a brilliant businessman, and judging by how their distillery has been booming since Sebastian took over, his son is too.
But let’s hope he didn’t inherit his father’s womanizing ways.
His wife, Sebastian’s mother, is stunning, yet the man can’t keep his dick in his pants.
He has at least one child from a mistress, possibly two, but that one’s harder to pin down because the woman and child live farther south.
New Orleans, I believe.” Sade pauses, tilting her head.
After placing a few more pins, she continues, “From what I hear, his sister is a vagabond who wants little to do with her family, except she’s perfectly fine with mommy and daddy sending her money so she can travel the world. ”