Page 105 of Overtake
OK. I’ll call in an expert. 10 mins.
Bless you, cousin.
Ten minutes later, Maiken appears at my door with clothing draped over her arm and a bag in hand. “Cin said there’s a fashion crisis I need to manage because we can’t have our driver on a date with a sexy beast looking like she raided Athol’s closet.”
“I hate you both.”
“No you don’t.” She spreads a dress across my bed and, yeah, it’s perfect. Fitted and black with a chic structured cut. “Now, d’you wanna look casually hot for El Conejo or not?”
“I’ve known him since karting. He’s seen me at my worst.”
“Yeah.” Her grin turns wicked. “But he hasn’t seen you in this.”
“Shoes too?” I eye the white silk stilettos Maiken produces from her bag. “How?”
“Borrowed from Zara.” She sets them down and adds a matching clutch. Both are embroidered with gorgeousOtomiflowers and leaves in pink, blue, red, and green.
“Those are Zara’s?”
“Girl’s got fantastic taste in shoes. It’s a shame her feet are smaller than mine.”
The shoes fit perfectly, the embroidery catching light as I test them.
“The clutch too,” Mai insists. “It’s a set. Very appropriate for your first official Mexican date.”
“This is absurd.” But I’m already slipping into the dress. “It’s just Nico and me.”
“No.” Maiken zips me up “This is the first public date between F1’s newest power couple. The story’s trending higher than actual race coverage.”
“I’ve known him since I was fourteen, Mai.”
“Mm-hmm, and yet he looks at you like you’re better than pole position.” She snorts at that, because she’s got a filthy sense of humor, then she starts fussing with my hair. “Now, updo or flowing tresses?”
“Erm.”
Maiken points to the desk chair. “Sit.” She sections my hair with expertise. “We’re going for ‘effortlessly sexy’ not ‘just climbed out of the car.’”
“There’s a difference?”
“One involves a lot less sweat.” She weaves my long hair into something that feels complicated but probably looks simple. “Especially since half of Mexico City’s paparazzi are camping in the lobby.”
Right. Because this isn’t just dinner.
“Stop overthinking.” She finishes with my hair, then considers my face. “I’m going to fix your eyes.”
“What’s wrong with them?”
“Nothing’swrong. I’m just going to make them better.” She finds my eyeliner, frowns, and throws it in the wastebin.
“Oi!”
“Hush. Trust an expert. That’s garbage.” Maiken pulls liquid liner from her bag and goes to work with the kind of efficiency and expertise I expect from our pit crew. A few sure lines, then some added eyeshadow, and she directs me toward the wall mirror. “Go look.”
I stand and…
Oh.
The dress is sleeveless and has a plunging neckline that intricately folds under my chest and gives the illusion of cleavage, something which, let’s face it, isn’t one of my greatest assets. But that dress hits every curve perfectly, and the stilettos add just enough height. My hair falls in soft waves, pink streaks artfully placed. She’s winged out my eyeliner and given me eyes so smoky there’s definitely a fire. The whole effect is pretty bloody hot.
