Page 95 of Love Lessons
Saturday is devoted to primping.
First, I sleep in for the first time since we got back from Italy. Then I go to a yoga class, which I follow up with a leisurely bubble bath.
Both the yogaandthe bath remind me of Ian. It’s hard to avoid thoughts of him today. He’s probably on his way to Connecticut for that wedding. Maybe he’s even dressed in the suit I chose for him.
Thoughts of him are a bit like a bruise that’s slow to heal. It hurts, but there’s no use crying over it. I have to move on. Whether it’s with Danforth or someone else, my needs are the same—I need a man who’s ready to love me. And Ian isn’t that man.
After my bath, I meet Charli at a salon where we treat ourselves to blowouts in adjacent chairs. “I even sat still for a manicure last night,” she says. “Be proud of me.”
“Oh, I am,” I assure her.
As soon as our hair looks glamorous, we head to my place. Charli does my makeup before she leaves to do her own. “See you at six? We’ll pick you up.”
“Can’t wait,” I assure her. “I got a bottle of prosecco for the ride. Do I need to bring glasses?”
“Nope. They have them in the limo.” She rolls her eyes. “That car is ridiculous.”
“Surprised you noticed the glasses,” I tease her, because Charli once confided in me that she and Neil got carried away in the back of that limo one night.
“You shut up.”
I cackle as she leaves. But then it’s time to get as beautiful as I can possibly be. Sexy strapless bra? Check. Matching panties? Check. Not to mention that I’m waxed and shaved and plucked and perfumed. My nails are polished—fingers and toes.
It’s go time. With nervous fingers, I unzip the red dress and remove it from its satin hanger. When I’d tried it on in Switzerland, I’d thought it was perfect. Magical, even. The kind of dress that could transform me into the woman I need to be for this event.
Carefully, I step into the dress and ease it up my body. The fabric has a pleasantly dry hand, and luckily the zipper isn’t too hard to reach. A partner’s assistance would come in handy right about now. I wiggle the zipper up to the middle of my back, then switch to an overhead grip to pull it the last few inches.
I adjust the straps on my shoulders, hold my breath, and then step in front of my three-way mirror.
Andwow. My memory hadn’t even done this dress justice. It’sperfect—the cut is flattering, and the fit is divine. The color brings out the warmth in my Italian skin tone.
This is the magic of finding the perfect style—I’ve achieved for myself what I’m always trying to do for my clients.
Naturally, I take a few selfies for Instagram. It would be a shame to waste this hairdo and this moment. Even if I’m not living my best life, I’m living my most photogenic one.
Then I take one more pic, this time for Danforth. It shows a cropped view of my face and one shoulder strap’s worth of the dress. It teases. You can see that my lipstick is a perfect match for my dress, but you can’t see the whole effect.
“Seduction requires anticipation,” I whisper, hitting Send.
I swear to God the phone rings three seconds later. It’s Danforth, of course. “Hey, V. That picture isfire.”
“Isn’t it?” I agree lightly. “Are you ready? New tux shirt okay?”
“Terrific work, as always.”
“Thanks. I’ll see you outside just before seven, unless there’s a traffic catastrophe.”
“Perfect,” he says. “Oh, and V? I need one little favor.”
“Hmm?”
“At the gala tonight, I need you to introduce me to Neil Drake.”
“Neil Drake,” I repeat slowly, as a strange prickly feeling finds the back of my neck. “Why?”
“He’s on the board of the solar initiative,” Danforth explains. “I expect he’ll be at the gala. It would be a real coup if I could get a meeting with him. He invests in several different energy technologies.”
I think back to the conversation I’d had with Danforth in this very apartment. I’d talked about my trip to Italy. I’d probably dropped Neil’s name when I mentioned the villa.
