Page 98 of Hot Lap
A black column dress that clings just so. High neck. Long sleeves. Sheer mesh panels at the back and sides suggest secrets, rather than sex, and a tasteful slit lets me walk without revealing too much. There’s a skinny silver belt to nip in my waist.
I step into it and Amyn goes quiet, then nods and says, “It’s modern, but sharp. This is a dress that doesn’t ask for space. It assumes it.”
“Shoes?”
He gives me three options, but there’s an obvious choice. They’re matte black, sharply carved, and open-toed. The angular cut of the vamp hugs the curve of my foot, and the heel itself juts back in a slanted, almost brutalist shape. They don’t sparkle. They’re a statement. Paired with the dress, they complete the look: sharp, modern, and impossible to misunderstand.
Reece walks into the room, now wearing dark suit pants and an undershirt. He freezes mid-stride. His gaze tracks down my body. “Bloody hell, Mai.”
I smile. “Exactly.”
Makeup comes next.
Winged, smoke-soft liner with a graphite sheen. Shimmer pressed into the center of my lids and dabbed in the corners.Pale, glossy lips. Bronzer feathered at the cheekbones just enough to make me look like I belong in a high-end campaign instead of a hotel suite.
My hair is trickier though.
“I don’t want anything bridal. No buns, no romantic waves, nothing soft and demure.”
Amyn pulls my hair back into a low ponytail — sleek and structured with a soft lift at the crown that nods to the '70s without going full retro. No curls. No romance. Just clean lines and power.
Then he opens a velvet-lined tray.
Inside is a series of brushed metal barrettes. They’re oval-shaped and irregular, some silver, some gold. Varying sizes, like polished river stones. They’re carefully arranged for balance and contrast.
Reece leans in the doorway, arms crossed, watching.
“These are yours,” Amyn says. “Mr. Pritchard asked the concierge to find something bold, but not flashy. Something that felt strong.”
I run a finger across the cool surface of one. “They’re perfect.”
Amyn begins placing them; one at the base of the ponytail, two along the crown, another tucked just behind my ear. A few smaller ones trail around the side of my head. They catch the light differently depending on the angle, like tectonic, unshaped power that’s refined just enough.
Reece steps closer. “Hang on. You’re not quite finished.” He reveals something from behind his back.
A silver cuff bracelet. Curved to echo the barrettes, it’s organic but bold with a soft sheen instead of sparkle. He slides it onto my wrist with quiet ceremony.
“For balance.”
I meet his eyes. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. You haven’t seen the whole package.” His chin tip indicates me from head to toe.
When I finally stand and look in the mirror, fully dressed, hair set, cuff gleaming against the sheer black of my sleeve, I see what he means. I’m ready to crush the naysayers.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Reece is flooredwhen he sees Maiken.
She’s bloody distracting. Not because she dressed inappropriately, but because she’s completely unforgettable.
Her dress is black with a high neck and semi-transparent panels that hint at just the right amount of skin without triggering a diplomatic crisis. It hugs her body in a way he definitely appreciates. Her hair is pulled into a ponytail and the metal barrettes he gave her glitter like she’s been crowned with a constellation. The single silver cuff he wrapped around her wrist is perfect, and he really needs to tip the stylist properly.
Her open-toed stilettos look like the kind of thing Mai would wear to walk straight through a battlefield and not miss a step.
She meets his gaze with a look that says,Say something stupid. I dare you.
He doesn’t. Nope. No way. Instead, he offers her his arm and wonders how she ever thought he considered her an embarrassment.
