Page 61 of Born Reckless
“Oh,” I muttered as she pushed her way past me into the penthouse. “Okay.”
“We will leave at eight,” Elena said as she walked away. “Be ready by then.”
“It’s four o’clock,” I said in disbelief, because how could she think there was any chance I might not be ready by then?
“I’m aware,” she said without looking back at me. She walked into her own penthouse and closed the door behind her.
Britta was bossy. I thought Elena was bossy, but this woman was worse.
She ordered me in the shower. I told her I’d already showered this morning. She didn’t care.
When I was done showering, she slathers a concoction of oils and lotions over my skin. As a vampire, my skin doesn’t need it. She didn’t care about that either.
I was glowing and dewy when she was done with me.
She filed and buffed and polished my nails.
She blow-dried my hair and curled it in a way I never would have accomplished.
And just as she’s finishing contouring my face, I hear the door open.
“Please save me,” I call out, being overly dramatic.
Britta gives me a dark glare but doesn’t stop blending my face.
I hear Mason’s footsteps coming down the hall. “Sorry, I should have warned you how seriously Elena takes this gala.”
He’s only five feet away when Britta suddenly darts to the door of my bedroom and slams it shut. “No sneak previews,” she says, her tone dead serious. “You can see her when you can witness the full effect.”
“Calm down, lady,” I say in annoyance and maybe a little bit of shock. I blink at her, blown away at the audacity of this human woman.
“It’s fine, Juliet,” Mason says from outside the door. I can hear the smile in his tone. “Who doesn’t love a grand reveal? I’ll be waiting in the living room when you’re done.”
“Traitor,” I growl as I sit back and close my eyes as she starts applying color. “You’re supposed to tell her this is your house and you’re the boss.”
“When it comes to women, I’ve learned that I’m never the boss,” Mason says, and I can perfectly imagine the smile on his face.
“Smart man,” Britta says with the arch of an eyebrow.
I hear the sound of Mason’s chuckle and then his footsteps retreating to his own bedroom to get ready.
I glance at the clock, and it’s as if I’ve stepped into a time warp. When Elena told me I had four hours to get ready, I thought she was insane for thinking that much time would be necessary. But as Britta finally finishes her last touches, somehow, we’re supposed to leave in ten minutes.
“Not a single person at that party will be able to take their eyes off of you,” she says as she zips me up in my dress. “See for yourself, gorgeous.”
I step in front of one of five full-length mirrors hanging on one of my walls.
And I feel like I barely recognize the woman looking back at me.
My hair has never looked this glossy or been this tamed. It falls around my face in soft, loose waves, almost in a vintage style. My eyes are the perfect shade of smokey without looking like I’m going to a club. My skin practically glows. And the dress…
I run my hands down the front of it, and I remember how I felt when I tried it on for the first time.
Maybe Elena is right. Maybe there is magic and power in how you look.
And for the first time, I feel like the woman standing in front of that mirror can stand next to the Godfreys and look like an equal.
“Thank you,” I say simply.