Resisting Mr. Kane (The London Mister Series Book 2) by Rosa Lucas

Author:Rosa Lucas [Lucas, Rosa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-03-31T16:00:00+00:00

16

Elly

It’s just dinner, right?

Hell, who am I kidding?

My last date barely split the bill; Tristan Kane wants to date me so badly he's drawing up NDAs. It might not be the most romantic gesture, but it is enough to convince me to take a leap of faith. That, and I’m so sexually frustrated, I might start humping his leg like a dog in the next Garcia meeting.

“It only looks good if I don’t move my head.” I study my face dubiously in the mirror. “When I tilt my head, it looks streaky.”

Megan is trying to contour my face based on instructions from a YouTube video. So far, she has used half of my sixty available minutes to get ready.

“I’m slightly regretting going straight into the advanced sculpting technique with multiple hues,” she murmurs as she adds yet another shade of grey powder to my cheeks. “It’ll look great in the end though.”

I disagree. I look like a freaking Picasso painting.

She tilts my face from side to side.

“What now?” I ask suspiciously.

“I need to add more layers.”

“You just keep adding layers?” I say doubtfully. “When do I have enough layers? I’m starting to resemble a stale layer cake.”

“Shall I give you bigger eyebrows as well?” she asks, taking my jaw in her hand and rolling my head around. I’ve never seen her look so serious.

“He only saw me a few hours ago.” I pull back from her grasp. “Won’t he notice if my eyebrows grow in size?”

“No chance.” Megan scoffs. “Men don’t notice these things. The guy I dated last year, Seanie, didn't notice when I got my eyebrows tattooed.”

I shake my head. “No, I won’t mess with the formula. He seems okay with my existing eyebrows.”

“I’m so glad you finally decided to give him a chance,” she says.

I sigh. “I just can’t believe I let it get so far in the elevator. I’m mortified. But no other guy has gone to this much effort to win me over.”

She flicks a brush up and down the middle of my nose to make it slimmer. Apparently.

“Maybe contouring only looks good in photos?” I frown.

She studies me for a long moment, tilting my head in all different directions to inspect cheeks, nose, forehead, and chin with meticulous detail. “You’re right,” she says solemnly. “Take it off. Take it all off. I think we need to start again.”

“Take it all off?” I glare at her. “Bloody hell, Megan, I don’t have time to do my whole face again.” I grab wet wipes from the dressing table and rub them on my cheeks. Thick grey powder deposits onto the wipes.

“Maybe we’ll stick to the natural look,” she suggests. “He liked you in Greece, and you barely put a brush through your hair there.”

“Fine. Just make me look less like the undead, please. Remove all the grey lines from my cheeks.”

“You’re very on edge.” She chuckles, massaging my cheek with makeup remover. “Admit it. You’ve been pining after this man since Greece.”

I exhale heavily. I can’t deny it.

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