Sinful Rewards 11 by Cynthia Sax

Author:Cynthia Sax [Sax, Cynthia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2015-05-12T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

I CLEAN THE condo, sweeping the floor and wiping the counters. Gisele watches me from the hiding place in the trunk, her yellow cat eyes not blinking once. Cyndi texts me. I tell her our good news, that we have our very first paying client. She sends me a video of her doing a happy dance, Cole gazing at her, his movie-star handsome face soft with caring. She also promises to send me an invoice I can forward to Hawke.

I wish my best friend were here. In the movies, the ugly-duckling-soon-to-become-the-prom-queen’s girlfriends convene en masse at her house. They help her with her hair, makeup, and dress, laughing and teasing her and exchanging boy advice. I want this full experience, but don’t know whom to ask. My mom is four states away. Susan is sick. Hawke is busy with security. Nicolas would be bored out of his brilliant mind. My scary new friend Ellen isn’t the teasing and laughing type.

I press Lona’s number before I think about the possible consequences.

“You shouldn’t be calling me, hon.” The high-class escort’s voice is husky, hinting of smoky clubs and carnal delights. “What would your friends say?”

“I don’t know. What would you say?” I counter, realizing only now how much I’ve missed the older woman.

Depriving myself of her company, her wisdom, and her friendship because I was afraid of what some judgmental strangers might think was foolish. Hawke considers Lona to be his friend. My mom approves of her. Nicolas allows her to live in one of his precious buildings, and Cyndi doesn’t care. I shouldn’t care either.

“I need some style advice.” I use this as the excuse for the call, not wanting to sound too desperate. “I’m attending a charity ball tonight.”

“Hawke is attending a ball?” Lona’s laughter is classy, controlled, as elegant as she is.

“I’m going with someone else,” I admit, pushing aside my guilt.

“What are you doing, hon?” My friend clucks her tongue, communicating her disapproval. “Hawke is a good man and he cares for you. You’re living together. He—”

“He knows and he doesn’t mind.” I interrupt her spiel before she makes me feel even worse. “I’m wearing a black gown, black sandals.” I steer the conversation to the more neutral topic of fashion. “And I’m torn between the expected red toenail polish and doing something different.”

“No red.” She rules out this classic option. “There will be hundreds of women striving for that version of sophistication. Very few can offer your youth, your freshness. Your look should be playful, a little sparkle, some whimsy, fun.”

I like sparkle. “I don’t have the makeup for that look.” I’ve tried my entire life to fit in, to not take any fashion chances, to be perfect. “And I can’t leave the building. The paparazzi blockade remains outside.”

“I noticed.” Lona’s tone is dry. “I’ll buy the nail polish and makeup and ask Jacob to deliver them.”

“I wish you could deliver them yourself.” I don’t want to be alone. “But with the cameras outside, I guess Jacob is the safer choice.

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