Page 37 of Make Me Yours
One of Cam’s assistants tilts her head and appraises me. I can’t help but squirm under her unrelenting inspection. “You’re a natural beauty. A little lipstick, a few strokes of mascara, and you’ll be camera-ready.”
“See?” Steele beams, as if the decision has been settled.
“There are a few dresses on the rack,” Cam adds. “Molly, take her in the back and see what fits.”
“No, I really don’t?—”
There’s no time to get the rest of my sentence out as I’m herded toward a smaller room and practically shoved into a chair in front of a mirror. The pushy assistant rifles through the clothing options on the rack while two others attack my hair and face with alarming speed.
It feels more like a pit stop at an Indy race.
Less than ten minutes later, both girls step back, smiling proudly.
I stare at my reflection, barely recognizing myself. “Oh. Wow.”
My hair is styled into loose waves that cascade over my shoulders. My skin looks flawless, and my lips are painted a sultry red that somehow makes my eyes seem bigger.
Molly holds out a silver column of fabric that shimmers beneath the fluorescent lights. “Let’s get you into this.”
Before I can protest, all three of them are teaming up—stripping off my button-down and skirt and then zipping the dress up my back.
When I turn to the mirror, I exhale slowly, only then realizing how tense I’ve been.
The gown is absolutely stunning. Sleek and elegant with a high slit that runs up my thigh. Not only does it look expensive, it feels expensive.
“Your boss is going to lose his mind when he sees you.”
I blink. “What?”
“Steele Sanderson,” one of them says with a knowing grin.
“He’s not really my boss,” I mutter. “More like a friend.”
Molly smirks before grabbing my hand and ushering me back into the studio. “We’ll see about that.”
As soon as I step foot into the large, sun-filled space, everything changes. Steele is mid-conversation with Cam about the hockey season. The second his gaze lands on me, he stops talking.
And moving.
And breathing.
His gaze rakes over me in an unhurried fashion, as if he’s memorizing every inch, before releasing a long, low whistle.
“Damn, lucky charm,” he murmurs. “You look like a million bucks. Maybe you’re the one who should be wearing the watch.”
Even though my stomach is in free fall, I laugh.
“Actually,” Cam muses, studying me with an assessing gaze, “that’s not a bad idea. I think the company sent over a smaller version.”
An assistant appears, draping an elegant timepiece around my wrist. The weight of it feels significant. Steele looks on as the clasp is locked into place, and his jaw tics ever so slightly.
Cam lifts his camera. “All right, Lilah, I want you standing in front of Steele. Close, but not touching yet. This is all about seduction.”
I exhale sharply and follow the direction, moving hesitantly into place. Steele stands behind me, radiating warmth and an intensity I’m reluctant to analyze.
How can I when his presence is everywhere, surrounding me?
Especially when I can feel the heat of his gaze burning into the back of my neck.
