Page 97 of American Royals
Oops. Nina had grown up around the royal family; of course she couldn’t be fooled by a cheap trick like that. “Right,” Daphne agreed, without missing a beat. “I wasn’t thinking, sorry.”
“I’ll try this one,” Nina said, reaching for a navy gown flocked with a pattern of black velvet and pulling the dressing room curtain shut behind her. She didn’t suspect Daphne of a thing. Which would explain why her purse—a woven straw hobo bag that really should only be worn in the summer—was right out here in the hallway, just begging to be explored.
In a single smooth motion, Daphne opened the bag and pulled out the cell phone tucked inside.
It was touch-ID protected. Daphne swiped up to activate the camera function, then clicked the icon in the bottom left corner to scroll through the images saved to Nina’s camera roll. Surely there would be something incriminating, something Daphne could send to herself, to take this girl down for good. She flicked breathlessly through photo after photo, yet all she saw were screenshots of homework assignments, pictures of books—books!—and the occasional selfie with a dark-haired girl Daphne didn’t recognize.
This was a waste of time. Nina was apparently smart enough not to take any photos with Jefferson, or any sexy lingerie photos, either.
The curtain rustled. Daphne quickly dropped the phone into Nina’s purse and retreated a step. “This is utterly perfect,” she gushed. “I think we’re done here.”
“You think so?” Nina twisted back and forth to examine herself in profile. “Even with heels, it might be a little long ….”
Daphne nodded. She tried not to look too pleased with herself as she said, “Don’t worry about that; Halo will hem it for you. I’ll get one of the fitters now.”
Poor Cinderella, Daphne thought smugly, be careful which fairy godmother you trust. You might not have a gown for the ball after all.
NINA
Later that week, Nina headed through the glass doors of Halo and turned toward the marble checkout desk. She was startled by how different the store looked from when she’d been here before: utterly empty and picked over, as if it had been ravaged by a pack of desperate socialites.
Thank god Nina had bought her own gown before the last-minute feeding frenzy.
The girl behind the counter, who’d been halfheartedly typing into her phone, glanced up at Nina’s arrival. “Can I help you?”
“My name is Nina Gonzalez. I’m here to pick up a dress that was being altered,” Nina explained. The salesgirl emitted a ponderous sigh and vanished into the back room.
When Nina had ventured here last weekend, she’d immediately felt overwhelmed: there were too many gowns to choose from, in far too many styles. She’d wished more than anything that she could ask for Samantha’s help, except she and the princess still weren’t speaking.
Nina’s hackles had risen when Daphne showed up. She’d assumed they would exchange a few pleasantries and go back to ignoring each other, but to her utter shock, Daphne had suggested they shop together.
Nina couldn’t think of an excuse fast enough. She felt the eyes of the whole boutique on them, and knew that if she refused, the story would make its way online—about how sweet Daphne had offered to help, but Nina had rudely refused. So she’d resigned herself to the inevitable and headed to the back of the store. Where she had ended up finding a gorgeous blue-and-black dress.
It was more than Nina had spent on an article of clothing in her entire life, but she told herself that it was worth it. Beatrice’s engagement party was a big night for her and Jeff—because it was the first Washington family engagement that they would attend as a couple. In front of the entire world, and all the gathered press.
Nina shifted her weight impatiently. At least she was dressed more appropriately than the last time she’d been here.
It didn’t come naturally to her, because this country-club look was pretty much the opposite of Nina’s style, but she’d taken to thinking of it more like a costume than an outfit—as if she’d been cast in a movie. Today, for instance, she was playing the role of the Prince’s Girlfriend, Picking Up Her Dress for the Ball. That character wore a long-sleeved dress, tights, and nude lip gloss.
“Sorry, I don’t have your gown,” the salesgirl said, emerging from behind a curtain that presumably led to the storeroom.
Nina glanced at the girl’s name tag and tried a smile. “Lindsay. Do you know when it will be ready? I need to wear it tomorrow night.”
Lindsay shook her head. “We don’t have anything under your name.”
“It’s navy with a black overlay. I was getting it hemmed,” Nina said, and realized she was babbling. She swallowed, trying to think of how Samantha would handle this. “I was here on Sunday with Daphne Deighton. Damien was helping us.”
“Damien’s off today.”
“Can you please look again?” Nina ignored the stirrings of panic deep in her stomach.
The salesgirl moved to a computer. Her fingers clicked over the keyboard for a few moments, and she frowned. “Nina Gonzalez?”
“Yes.” Nina almost said, Don’t you know me? but caught herself just in time. This insta-celebrity thing was really messing with her head.
Lindsay’s frown deepened. “But you canceled your gown order.”
“What? No, I didn’t.”
