Page 52 of The Naughty Or Nice Clause

“There’s no reason for distance. I want to show off my fiancée. As for the dress—” He kissed the side of her head. “I have everything under control.”

She couldn’t help the anxiety swelling in her chest. Even if their relationship couldn’t be considered entirely untruthful, she worried they were walking on ice that was sure to break.

“I’m not wearing the bowtie,” Kevin announced, interrupting her thoughts, when they reached the breakfast table.

“Yes, you will. It’s customary. I’ll be wearing one,” Mason said, sitting beside his brother.

“Kevin doesn’t mind wearing a bowtie, but he’s refusing to wear the one you got him,” Lou said to Lyla with a smirk, filling her bowl with porridge and fruit.

“Why? The gingerbread print is adorable!” Lyla and Mason had picked it out together as a joke when they went shopping. She didn’t actually expect him to wear it, or for Mason to force him to.

“He thinks the person he likes won’t like it,” Lou said slyly.

Kevin threw a croissant at his sister, which resulted in a glare from Mrs Klaus.

“I made this food for you to eat, not throw. Wear the bowtie or don’t – it’s not a matter to get worked up over,” his mum stated as Lou took a generous bite out of the croissant.

“You don’t have to wear it,” Lyla agreed, placing a hand over Mason’s, not wanting him to fight with his brother.

“It was a gift, and it’s a time-honoured tradition that if you receive a gift it must be worn, used or consumed,” Mason said.

“Fine. If you feel so strongly about it,” Lyla said, winking at Kevin, “then you wear it.”

Mason rolled his eyes and Kevin thanked her by wrapping his arms around her. “I think you’re becoming my favourite sister.”

“I’m right here,” Lou said, glaring at her brother.

“Can we please eat our breakfast in peace? It’s going to be a long day,” Mrs Klaus reminded them. Once Kevin went back to his seat, they did exactly that.

Mrs Klaus’ hair was setting in curlers; she wrestled with some false lashes while Lyla finished Lou’s make-up. She hadn’t thought she would be able to attend the gala, but Lou had brought some of Sara’s dresses and thankfully, there was one that fitted.

“Please thank Sara for me,” she said to Lou, nodding to the black dress.

“Don’t think on it – she was sad she couldn’t get ready with us. She’s with her family for dinner, but she’ll join us there,” Lou said. Lyla was glad she would know another person at the gala.

“If you let the glue set a little before you try to stick them they should stay in place,” she advised, as Mrs Klaus sighed at another failed attempt.

“I’m fairly sure my eyelashes are more glue than hair at this point.” She threw down the false ones. “I give up – mascara will have to do.”

Lyla picked up the mascara from the dressing table beside her and passed it over. “I think you’re about done,” she said to Lou.

Lou looked in the dresser mirror, examining her smoky eyes and dark red lips. With her pale blonde hair, she looked every bit the bombshell.

“I think you missed your calling,” she said, squinting to get a better look at the winged liner.

“My mother was an artist; she could do wonders with a brush. This is as far as my artistic gifts extend,” Lyla told her, closing the lid on the eyeshadow palette.

“She must have been very talented,” Mrs Klaus said.

“She was incredible. She turned our townhouse into an art studio. Her work always sold out as soon as it was viewed. She brought nature to life – that’s what she painted, landscapes, but with alternate colours. Neon purple seas, orange tree stumps and red clouds. She could never work fast enough. Everything at home was covered in paint… it still is.” She missed the chaos, the rush, the smell of oil paint.

“We would love to see her work! Do you still have some?” Lou asked enthusiastically.

“I have her last collection, but it wasn’t finished. The gallery still wanted it, but I couldn’t break it up. It’s still in her studio.”

“It’s hard to give up the things that made them who they were,” Mrs Klaus agreed, and Lou took her hand. “I still lay out Henry’s clothes every day – a habit I can’t seem to break.”

“And you don’t have to,” Lou said, comforting her mother.

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