Obsessed Heir (Billionaire Heirs #4)

Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Abigail

“ W e can do something dramatic with her hair,” the stylist suggests to Holly. “Some highlights around her face to call attention to her eyes.”

“No.” Holly shakes her head firmly then turns to me. “Abby, can you let your hair down.”

After fifteen minutes in the sauna, I was sent off to the shower with a loofah and instructions to wash my hair. There wasn’t much I could do without a brush or dryer.

Preparing for the worst, I pull the towel from around my head, letting my hair tumble down my shoulders and the back of my robe. Self-conscious, I drag my fingers through the tangled strands, trying to separate them and smooth them out a bit.

“Oh, I see what you mean,” the stylist murmurs, stepping closer to inspect the damp mess. Her critical gaze makes me feel like I’m under a microscope. She studies my roots then picks up a few strands to check the ends.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t brush?—”

“You’ve never had anything done?” She stares at me as if it’s an alien concept.

“No, never.” I shrug, a little uncomfortable with the scrutiny. “It’s usually a trim to get rid of split ends.”

“We’ll keep the length,” Holly says. “Trim only if needed. I want to keep Abby’s fresh, natural look about her as much as possible.”

“Yes, of course.” The stylist nods enthusiastically. “We’ll add some body to her hair. The curl will take care of the rest.”

“Fantastic.” Holly glances down at her phone. “Can you get me the style I need?”

“Absolutely. Just leave it to me,” she replies.

“Come this way, Abby.” Holly takes the towel and my clothes out of my hand. “Here.” She passes them to the closest attendant.

“Send these over to the laundry,” Holly instructs. “Then have them delivered to Mr. McClelland’s suite.”

The implication in her words makes my cheeks turn warm. Suddenly, I feel like everyone’s attention is turned to me.

“Yes, Miss Reed,” the attendant replies dutifully, taking the items without a second’s hesitation.

Laundry. I release a grateful sigh. It didn’t even occur to me that they might offer laundry service. With everything else they have available, it isn’t out of the realm of possibility.

I need to start thinking of this like a lavish, floating hotel. Ugh, floating. At least the water isn’t as harsh as last night.

“Did you have any trouble rescheduling the other passenger’s appointment?” Holly asks on her way to the stylist chair with me trailing behind her.

“No,” she replies, rewrapping the towel around my clothes. She pulls on the ends, tightening the bundle, as if it’s a nervous gesture. “She started getting a little upset. Then I told her the client ahead of her wasn’t feeling well after a night of partying. So we had to close the room for sanitation.”

“Very resourceful.” Holly praises her with an approving smile. “Abby, over here.” She motions for me to sit in the styling chair.

“Thank you.” The woman grins. “I’ll take care of this then go back to the reception desk. Please let me know if you need anything else.”

I sit back, making sure not to flash anyone. My instructions were not to wear anything under the robe. I knew better than to ask if that included underwear, considering the one and only time we went for a spa day I was given the same instructions. Later, I felt silly when the woman confirmed she meant everything .

An older woman arrives with the container of wax and fabric strips.

“I’m doing laser hair removal at home,” I mention, folding my leg up to let her inspect my calf. “I don’t know that I even have stubble yet.”

I’d saved up to buy one of the home kits during a sale last year. I’d be farther along if I dedicated more time to myself. But between school, homework, and helping Miss Opal, I haven’t found the time.

The woman gives me a small smile and a gentle shake of her head. “It’s not your legs I’m waxing.”

It takes a second for the implication to sink in. There’s only one other area I can think of that would take hot wax.

“Oh.” Heat rushes across my cheeks in an instant.

Of course. I’m about to be dressed in lingerie, so I should have anticipated as much. I squirm in place, trying to push to the back of the seat. I’ve had a bikini wax before, and it’s not an experience I’d thought to repeat.

“You might want to prepare yourself,” she says, plugging in the little container. “We’ll be taking it all off.”

My butt cheeks clench as I anticipate the pain I’m about to experience. A bikini wax is bad enough; going fully bare will probably be brutal. I hope Miss Opal understands how much I love her.

“You should really just have it all lasered off permanently,” a woman advises from across the room. “It makes things so much easier.”

I glance over to find Bronwyn O’Neal, the world-famous model sauntering over. Tall, regal, self-assured, she moves with poise and confidence that comes from strutting down the catwalks. Despite wearing a robe similar to mine, she looks positively glamorous.

She’s doing this photo shoot also? I can’t help but have a fangirl moment. I’m in the same room as international fashion model Bronwyn O’Neal. I assume she’s following the same steps I am.

“Gigi should be along any minute,” Holly says, turning to the attendant following Bronwyn. “Why don’t you start Bronwyn with makeup and a pedicure since we’re tied up.”

The attendants immediately mobilize to do Holly’s bidding. The lady with me pulls purple latex gloves out of a box.

“Yes, I heard I was sharing a dressing area,” Bronwyn remarks flatly. She doesn’t spare us a glance as she’s escorted to another station.

A wave of uncertainty washes over me. I assumed this was normal. Every beauty pageant movie has a scene where all the girls are getting ready in a big dressing room. But I guess not.

“We planned a third model joining your two,” Holly interjects, no doubt picking up on how uncomfortable I am. “But we had to reschedule the appointment at the last minute.”

“ Hrmph .” Bronwyn lets out a derisive huff.

I’m thankful Miss Opal missed this. I can only imagine the scolding she would give this woman.

“Hello-hello.” A woman with bright-pink hair comes in. Her hands are up, and she’s wiggling her fingers.

“Gigi.” Holly turns to greet her. “We have two for you now, and a third later this morning.”

Gigi goes straight to Bronwyn.

“We’ll need to do a mask.” The makeup artist clucks disapprovingly as she scrutinizes the supermodel’s face. “You didn’t get enough sleep.”

“What did you expect when you called me here at the crack of dawn,” Bronwyn snaps.

I press my lips together to keep my mouth shut. This is hardly the crack of dawn. Though I’m from Texas, so I gained a couple of hours. She might be coming in from another part of the world, where she would just be waking up.

“You had a schedule delivered to your suite,” Holly states with a tone of authority. “I expect you to keep to the itinerary going forward.”

“Barron can vouch for what time I came in,” Bronwyn taunts with a smirk.

“He’s so hot,” someone mentions.

“I’d do him.” Someone else giggles.

Barron…my chest feels suddenly hollow. I’ve seen rare pictures of him with a woman on his arm. But she’s always been beautiful. Bronwyn would certainly fit his taste.

I shouldn’t be feeling this. The man hates me. He glares at me like he wishes I’d go up in flames.

But the flames inside me have nothing to do with anger.

“Given how crowded the club was, I doubt Barron noticed what time you left,” Holly replies, expertly calling Bronwyn’s bluff.

The model lets out a very unladylike snort.

I have the urge to make a run for it and come back once things have settled down. But the attendants continue as if nothing’s happened. Before I can decide what to do, the makeup artist comes over.

“Well, let me take a look over here.” She looms over me, scrutinizing my bare face.

Every insecurity about my body bubbles up inside me. To top it off, I didn’t sleep well last night, so I brace myself for a firm dressing down.

After a moment of scrutiny, she gives me a warm, reassuring smile. “Fresh faced and ready to go.”

An exaggerated exhale comes from Bronwyn’s station. My imagination pairs it with an eye-roll, dampening the smile forming on my lips.

“What skin care routine do you normally follow, Abby?” Gigi asks, gently tilting my chin.

Routine? My tummy drops again. These people will probably think I’m nothing more than a bumpkin after this.

“I…I just wash my face and use a moisturizing lotion.” I manage not to cringe as I wait, half expecting a round of laughter from the others.

“Ah, youth.” She releases my chin, giving me a gentle smile. “Women would do anything for that fresh dewy glow on their skin.”

“And they’d pay a fortune,” Holly says under her breath.

“Let’s get you waxed,” Gigi directs, “so you don’t ruin my masterpiece.”

I catch a glimpse of Bronwyn shooting me a side glance of thinly veiled contempt.