Page 34 of Love so Hot

"Here's fine, thanks." I step aside, trying not to look as bewildered as I feel. I don't want Larry's fast fashion, but I've already lost this battle.

"Sign here, please." He hands me a digital pad, oblivious to the storm of emotions in my head.

"Thanks," I say as I scribble something that might pass for a signature.

"Have a good one," he says before heading back to his truck.

I look at the shipping label. There's a card tucked beneath it. I pull it out and read the message:

"Compliments of Lawrence Sinclair." I let out a humorless laugh. Like any sort of compliment from him would come without strings attached. I haul the garment bag and boxes into the living room, my curiosity piqued despite myself. The soft rustle of silk and the glint of something sequined catch my eye as I unzip the bag. Definitely not my usual hemp and cotton vibe. But it's... beautiful.

"Who knew you had taste, Larry?" I mutter under my breath, running my fingers over the luxe fabric.

A knock sounds at the door again. Not taking any chances this time, I stride over and swing it open to see a woman with a case full of makeup and hair tools.

"Willow?" she asks, her eyes scanning me from head to toe.

"Guilty."

"Great, I'm here for your makeover. Lawrence sent me." She breezes past me, setting up shop at the dining table. "My name's Robyn."

I bristle. Larry hadn't said anything about a makeover. All he had mentioned this morning was the wardrobe.

"Let's get started, shall we?"

The woman looks nice enough. She's got brown hair cut short and is mostly ordinary in every way, except I can tell she has kind eyes. It wouldn't be fair for me to take out my frustrations on her. I weigh the option of turning her away and consider what Larry might do when he gets home. Chances are we'll engage in the same argument we had about the wardrobe, and I'll be on the losing side again.

No, this isn't the right battle to fight. I need to save my ammunition for bigger things. Besides, I'll be the first to admit that I'm a little overdue for some hair color.

"Sure," I say, finally settling into the chair. "I take it this isn't your first rodeo with Mr. High-and-Mighty?"

She chuckles, sizing me up in the mirror. "I've done a few jobs for him, yeah."

"Is he always so..." I trail off, searching for the word.

"Intense?" she offers, beginning to work on my hair, her fingers deft and practiced.

"Intense, mysterious, infuriating," I add, feeling the tension in my shoulders start to ease under her touch.

"Sounds like you two have quite the history." She smiles knowingly in the mirror.

"Something like that," I admit, watching as she transforms my faded green tresses into something out of a magazine. "He's just so... opposite of everything I stand for."

"Opposites attract, they say," she teases, brushing out my hair with gentle strokes.

"Maybe in magnets and fairy tales," I counter, but I can't help the small smile that tugs at my lips. "And hey, since you're here, can you do something about these roots?"

"Already on it," she replies with a wink, mixing up a color that somehow perfectly matches the vibrant green of my hair.

"Is Larry always such a stickler for appearances?" I ask, glancing at Robyn in the mirror as she starts to untangle another section of my hair. The new look is growing on me, but I can't shake off the curiosity about the man who mandated this transformation.

"Larry, huh?" She raises an eyebrow at the nickname, a small smile dancing on her lips. "That man's got layers like an onion."

"Layers? Really?" My skepticism must be palpable, because she chuckles, nodding as she works some product into my hair.

"Sure. He comes off all fire and brimstone, but there's more than meets the eye." She snips away a stray end, her hands confident and steady. "I've seen him at charity events, you know. Always the last to leave, making sure every cent goes where it's supposed to."

"Charity events?" That doesn't sound like the ruthless businessman I've been dealing with.

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