Til Debt Do Us Part (Married At Midnight #4)

Chapter 22

Twenty-Two

Talia

"M ademoiselle?" The butler asks gently.

I look up, cocking a brow. He steps more fully into the sunroom, which has become a de facto haven for me. It’s warmer in here than anywhere else in the house and it’s well-lit to boot.

The butler bows his head very slightly. "Your team is here. Shall I tell them to come in?"

Somewhat exasperated, I push out a half exhale. "Sure, why not? What have I got to lose?"

He bows again and then disappears.

As I watch, a whole team of stylists file into the room, descending like hawks searching for their prey. There are four women and two men, all dressed in stylish black clothes. The men are in impeccably tailored suits, the women in chic dresses and heels.

Something inside me wrenches as I watch them parade in, pushing a rolling rack of clothing and carrying the tools of their trades. One of the men carries six white shoeboxes, and everyone else has their hands full with manicure kits, a giant hairdryer, or a set of rollers for my hair. The man with the shoeboxes sets them down on one of the side couches and turns to me with an even smile. He extends his hand to me, bowing his blonde head. I can see that his nails are neatly manicured, and his suede loafers have been recently brushed.

"Hello, darling. My name is Stephen." He turns to the crew, pointing them out as he goes. "That is Jessica, Sam, Mary, Mathilde, and that gentleman over there is Percival. We’re here to make you feel and look your absolute best. I promise, this will be completely painless, and you will feel radiant after we’re done."

He sticks his hand out, raising his brows in inspection. My cheeks feel warm as I shake his hand, my gaze sliding from Stephen to the rest of the group. Suddenly, all the fiery passion that I had a few hours ago has vanished. When I introduce myself, I feel awkward and clumsy. "I’m Talia."

He shakes my hand and then looks at me with an assessing gaze. He gestures for me to turn around.

"Can we see you spin?"

Flushing even brighter, I do a quick turn.

To Stephen's credit, he doesn’t so much as bat an eyelash. Neither do any of the rest of his team, either. They are all diligently working to set up their own individual stations. One for clothing, one for hair, and one for nails.

I notice that two of the women leave the room and return with their arms full of what looks to be quite heavy fabric. In no time flat, the women have set up a privacy curtain and hung an opaque white paisley cover around the box that they have created. It’s about four by two, and just looking at it makes me nervous.

"Exactly what will I have done today that requires such modesty?”

"Oh, darling. Don’t get caught up in that just yet. Let’s just start with the basics."

Stephen escorts me to one of the couches, where Percival has spread a tarp over the whole seat. Percival smiles as he snaps open a large black rayon sheet with a neck hole cut out of it. Stephen introduces me, then hustles off to the rack of clothing, unpacking shoes and tucking them under corresponding outfits.

Percival cocks his head and says, "Do you mind if I take your hair down from its bun?"

I feel embarrassed, though I don’t know why. I unwind my hair, and it cascades well past my shoulders.

I’ve never even had it cut by a professional before. Since I was little, Aunt Minnie has always cut our hair at the same time, over the kitchen sink. I never thought much about it until I got older. But even then, I figured that it didn’t really matter because I always kept my hair put up in an untidy bun anyway.

Percival nods to himself, rubbing his hands together. He looks at my hair. "May I touch your scalp? I like to get a feel for the hair before I start cutting."

I swallow. "Sure, I guess."

He dives right in, and his hands work through my hair, from front to back. "God, I love your color. Who does it?"

I give him a curious look. "What do you mean?"

He bends his head closer, looking at the strands of my copper-colored hair. "Well, is this your natural hair color?"

"Yes," I say. "What else would it be?"

He smiles and runs his hands through my hair, combing out tangles with his fingers. "It’s so beautiful. You’re very lucky."

I feel my cheeks warm again, and I shrug. "Thanks, I guess."

He holds up a finger and, heading over to a full-length mirror, carries it back to me. I see myself in the reflection, my hair a ratty mass, my cheeks pink, and my skirt loose and ill-fitting.

"Can you take off your jacket?" He suggests. “Just set it right over there, if you don’t mind."

Swallowing hard, I peel my coat off and discard it. As I walk back, holding my hands wide, I look in the mirror. I am wearing a thin black shirt tucked into the waist of my black skirt. It looks cheap, like an ancient artifact or something. Honestly, I’ve probably had the shirt since high school. I release a huge dramatic sigh, and Percival smiles patiently at me.

"Honey, I know. This is a lot. But we are just focused on your hair right now. So, let’s talk about what kind of shape you would like. It has been suggested to me that you might like a shoulder-length cut. But I am also thinking that you would look very elegant with bangs. What do you think?"

Bangs? I stare at myself in the mirror, imagining the chunky bangs that I cut myself. I shake my head quickly, remembering all too well the disastrous self-inflicted bangs I had in middle school. “Nope, no way.”

"All right. That’s totally fine. What about length? Do you want it waist length or maybe shoulder length?"

I tilt my head to the side. Part of me very much wants to defy Dare by chopping off all my hair. But I keep that part of myself and tell that rebellious part of myself to be quiet. Now is not the time for that.

"Somewhere in between, I suppose."

He nods, his lower lip sticking out. "What about shape?"

I glance up at him, my eyes pleading with him.

"Don’t make me ugly. Okay? Just make my hair look good."

He gives me a quiet smile and nods his head once. "I know just what to do. I’ll take good care of you, I promise."

To my surprise, he does. I watch the hair fall away as he cuts, trims, and shapes my hair perfectly. At the end, when I look in the mirror, I am awestruck. I could easily be a totally different person. A chic, rich person’s wife. Letting out all the breath in my lungs at once, a startled sound escapes my lips.

Percival looks worried for the first time. "Are you okay?"

I raise my hands to my face, putting them over my mouth. My eyes mist over, but I can’t take my gaze off my hair. It’s amazing what a good pair of scissors will do.

"It’s incredible," I breathe out. "Oh my God. I didn’t realize that... Thank you, Percival."

He beams at me. "Oh honey. It was my pleasure. Now let’s get you waxed and wedding-ready."

"Waxed?"

I go through a full body wax and have my nails done at the same time. All the women bustle around me behind the curtain, attending to their jobs. I feel detached from my body, almost completely ignoring the pain, and floating around in my own head. One of the women puts a face mask on me while the other is busy waxing every single hair from my body.

Stephen then takes over, dressing me in a silky black thong and a black strapless push-up bra.

I stand near the rack of clothes as he pulls out long pink dresses and short pink rompers, smiling and talking to me. I barely listen, managing a forced smile.

"Talia?"

I glance up at Stephen, and he gives me a funny look. "You know what? I think you could use a little privacy." He leans his head to the side and calls to the rest of the glam squad. "Hey folks? Could you all take a break for a minute? Let’s just give Miss Talia some room, okay?"

"Of course." Percival looks at each of the women. "Come on, ladies."

They head out of the room, their footsteps discreet.

Stephen pulls a silky off-white robe from the rolling rack, putting it around my shoulders. I thank him with numb lips and wrap the robe around myself, tying it. He touches my shoulder and looks into my eyes.

"Are you having a tough day?” he asks.

I’m a little surprised. It’s the first time that anyone outside Aunt Minnie and Olivia has asked me that.

I swallow, trying not to burst into tears, and nod vigorously.

"Okay. That’s okay. Let me make you a deal. You pick out three of these dresses and try them on. Let us accessorize you and slip on the matching shoes. And then, once you have seen them in the mirror?” He raises his hands, shaking his head. “I promise that I will leave you alone if you ask me to. I know that you have made a lot of changes today. But I swear, if you look in the mirror and you are not happy with yourself, I will personally do whatever is in my power to make it right."

Dashing away my tears, I nod. I give him a watery thanks, and he squeezes my shoulder.

"I know this is a big change. But I think that you know that it’s needed. It had been a very long time since anybody had cut your hair or filed your fingernails. Other than that, you are just sort of refining your look. Okay? In reality, it’s not really that much, I promise."

Sucking in a deep breath, I nod. "Of course. Sorry."

"Girl, don’t apologize to me. Seriously, if you had any idea what your fiancé was paying the glam squad, you would not feel sorry for us at all."

That earns a laugh from me. "It’s good to know that everyone is getting what they deserve."

Even me, I think.

"Can I call Percival back into the room to do some makeup while you change into the first look I’ve picked out for you?"

I nod, steeling myself. What will I look like in the mirror wearing new clothes? I can’t even imagine it, if I am totally honest with myself.

Percival dashes on a little makeup. Rouge on my cheeks, color on my lips, a shimmery nude eyeshadow coupled with a black eyeliner.

I pluck the long pink dress from the rolling rack. “Can I try this on first?"

"You can try on anything you like." Stephen gives me a grin. "They’ll all look stunning on you, I am sure."

The sleeves and the top layer of the dress are sheer. It’s all a beautiful fuchsia color, coupled with a floral pattern that is vague and indistinct. Underneath is a tighter sheath. Thin straps meet a satin bustier and flow down to my feet. I wriggle into the dress and step into the shoes that Stephen places before me. Then he zips up my dress as Percival comes back with the body length mirror.

For a moment, I don’t even recognize myself. I catch a glimpse of a gorgeous redhead in a killer dress. Chills run down my arms before I even realize that it is me.

I can’t stop staring at myself. My hair is long, drawn back over my shoulder. My eyes look amazingly blue. My skin looks like flawless cream. And the dress… it shows off a little cleavage and manages to be quite clingy while also leaving enough to the imagination. The shoes he chose are pink high heels with a bright red sole. I can barely stand in them, but the effect overall is just stunning.

My hands fly to my lips, my eyes unable to stop raking up and down my own figure.

"Well?" Stephen asks. "What do you think?"

I look at him, my eyes filling with tears. I blot them away hastily, staved off by Stephen’s own handkerchief. I laugh as I wipe away my tears, shaking my head.

"The dress is beautiful," I say. "Really beautiful."

"No. The woman is beautiful. The dress is just a garment until she puts it on."

"Excuse me, Stephen?" Stacy pops her head in, apologetic. "I’m sorry, but Mr. Morgan requests that Ms. Chance try on this dress." She looks at me with a polite smile. "He asked that you wear it tonight."

I look at the dress as she carries it over. It’s a stretchy silver material that extends from a pair of tiny straps down to a lush swath of silver fabric and it ends abruptly.

"It’s so short!" I exclaim.

Stephen leans closer to me, giving me a knowing smile. "That must be why your fiancé wants you to wear it."

I scowl.

Standing still, Stephen lets me out of the pink dress. I hold my hands up in the air while he slides the silver dress down onto my form.

The material barely covers my chest and flows down to stop at the middle of my thigh. I glance up into the mirror and frown.

I have only changed my dress, but in the mirror, a nubile young woman's legs, arms, and décolletage are on full display.

"Do I at least get to wear a shawl?" I grouse.

Stephen gives me a wink. "I have just the thing."

He pulls a caramel-colored shawl from the rack and drapes it over my shoulders.

I look more closely at the fox head that’s now lying on my upper arm and scowl. "Is this real?"

"Definitely not. We aren’t doing real fur anymore. But it looks real, doesn’t it?"

I run my fingers down the length of the fabric, admiring the silky feel. "It’s really nice."

"Good. I hope you’re as happy with your transformation today as I am. Because honey, you look like a million bucks."

I flush, my first thought being that I am only worth half a million so far.

I tuck my hair behind my ear and smile softly. "Thank you. Thanks to the whole glam squad."

"It was our pleasure," Stephen says. "Call us anytime. I can have more rolling racks brought to you anywhere in the world. All you have to do is say the word."

Dare’s world may not turn out to be so bad if it’s populated by people like Stephen. I shake Stephen’s hand and change my shoes, then look in the mirror a final time.

I look completely different. If my soon-to-be fiancé isn’t impressed by this groomed, polished version of me, I don’t know how else I can impress him. Pulling in my stomach and straightening my spine, I turn to the rolling rack once more. I begin sorting through the rack, making hasty decisions about which garments will blow Dare’s mind.