Page 64 of Games We Play
Harold Wright, huh? Sloan hated the self-righteous bastard, but hewasthe man holding the coins to half their business.I remember when I first charmed him ten years ago.Harold was responsible for taking their efforts to the next level. That was the year Aaron and Margaret went from mere multimillionaires tobillionaires.
She had charmed him with her innate nature. The one Aaron had once called the freshest breath of air to ever come into his life. It had inspired him to start this business with her. “Nobody will suspect how brilliant you are, Maggie.”He had said by candlelight.“Let’s use their assumptions about you against them. Get to know these people. Make them swoon, like you make me second guess everything I ever thought about the fairer sex. Let’s take them to the cleaners and make ourselves richer than we ever imagined.”
Back when she wore demure dresses and sweet, seductive makeup. Back when she knew how to flash a smile and cock her head, letting the mansplainers of the world think they were the smartest fucks to ever tell her how business worked. Back when she had the patience – no, the desire – to indulge them.
It had been another life. One she barely remembered, until she saw that fire in Aaron’s eyes – and the shadows in her photographs.
Chapter 21
Leah didn’t know what magic had conspired to get her three pivotal days of the week off on such short notice. All she knew was that she pulled double shifts to make up for her absence. By the time she boarded her morning flight to Chicago, she was liable to pass out on the tarmac.Jet-lag, here I come.
To say she lacked in the beauty sleep department was an understatement. She slept the whole First-Class flight to Chicago, but it wasn’t enough to make her look like a member of the living when she deplaned at O’Hare and went straight to the car awaiting her by the curb.
“Where are we going?” she asked the driver when they drove past one of Sloan’s apartment buildings.
“I have orders to drop you off at the Dayglow Spa.”
“Spa?” Leah grinned. “Happy Valentine’s Day to me!”
How many women were given free trips to Chicago for a day like this? All Leah knew was that she would meet Sloan when she got off work around five. Until then, she met up with a personal stylist at the Dayglow Spa not too far from downtown. Massages, masks, manicures and pedicures… it was happening, and the stylist laughed to hear that Leah might fall asleep during her deep-tissue massage.I amthattired.
Sloan must have known how hard her girlfriend had worked all week, because the spa did more than wake Leah up. It rejuvenated her. From the moment she stepped out from the sauna and went straight to the manicurist’s, she felt like she had shed her old skin and now emerged the pampered princess she had always hoped to be.
Sloan was good at making her feel like this. If Leah wasn’t careful, she would catch more feelings for the standoffish businesswoman who acted like she would rather die than fall in love.
The stylist had spent the past hour drawing up a plan for Leah. Granted, the woman already had a plan based on what she had read in Leah’s profile, but seeing her, speaking with her, and watching her move in her everyday clothes had given the professional a few ideas for the impending shopping trip. She showed Leah a few photos on her tablet while the pampered client had her hair brushed and styled in the salon.
“I’m thinking a chic black dress for your date tonight.” The stylist showed Leah an off-the-shoulder cocktail dress that was made of nothing but sparkles. “This starry night look will putallthe focus on you at the restaurant. Ooorr… if we want to keep with the Valentine’s theme…” She swiped through a few more pictures. “You have the perfect hair and skin tone to pull off baby pink and not look like an adolescent.”
It looks like my birthday dress!Leah grinned to see the frilly cocktail dress on the model. Lace bedecked her from collar to knee, and the appliques adorning the bust were straight out of Leah’s childhood fantasies. Yet the dress was definitely styled for an adult woman. Nothing said mature yet flirty like those flowy sleeves and a cinched waist dotted with a little diamond belt.Are those real diamonds? No. Way.Leah didn’t care if they were cubic zirconia’s or personally mined by a team of assistants. She wanted that dress.
The stylist laughed. “I guess this one is the winner, huh? Luckily for you, the boutique isn’t too far from here. I’m told you’re a size ten?”
Leah nodded. “Does something like that really come in my size?” She had seen the designer’s name stamped on the image. She had always heard that designers like those stopped making dresses after a size six,ifpeople were lucky.
“Of course we can get it in a size ten. I’ve already put it on hold for us. As soon as we’re done here, we’ll get it. I already know it will be a perfect fit.” The stylist showed the beautician the photo. “Give her a soft pink look. I’m thinking a tinge of magenta on the lips and a bit of a baby pink glow on the eyes. Gold dust her cheeks.”
Gold dust! On her cheeks!
Granted, she had to squint at her reflection to see the hint of gold on her skin, but Leah approved. She definitely wasn’t tired when she got back in the car with the stylist and drove ten minutes to the boutique housing her Valentine’s Day dress.
“This is already the best day ever,”she texted Sloan.“When do I get to see you?”
“Soon,”Sloan replied.“Afraid I have to meet you at the restaurant. I had a sudden appointment this afternoon that is sure to run late.”
That gave Leah time to not only try on her dress, but take her time perusing a selection of shoes and the perfect accessories to go with it. She ended up with not only the diamond belt around her waist, but a pair of pink diamond earrings, a tennis bracelet, and two pink diamond barrettes in her hair. The beautician had stopped fighting Leah’s curls and instead let them fall naturally down her back and over her shoulders. The only thing missing was a fresh pink rose, clipped next to her bangs.
“I can’t tell if she’s going to the prom or Easter Sunday,” the owner of the boutique whispered to the stylist. “Is this really what the client wants?”
“Look at her,” the stylist hissed back. “Have you ever seen a woman happier to look like a cupcake?”
“Well, you did say that she was a baker… if anyone knows about looking like a cupcake, it’s her.”
They gave her a light jacket to wear over her arms, since night had fallen and it was time to head to the restaurant. Sloan texted her girlfriend to assure her that they would meet there. Unfortunately, that last-minute meeting hadreallyrun late.
Leah took a selfie in the back of the car and sent it to her friends and sister.“Can you believe I look like this right now? Check out this dress!”The only reason she didn’t add a filter and post it to her Instagram was because she didn’t know how public she and Sloan were. Friends were fair game, though, right?
“Oh my God, you look like the cake I decorated today. #getitgirl”Gina responded.
