Page 18 of RAKEish

This caused a lot of laughter, laughter that released the nerves she’d been holding in her neck all day.

She was about to thank them again when the studio door opened. “Frankie has sent me to teach you how to walk in stilettos,” announced an attractive woman. She held out a pair of killer nude heels.

Luxury glanced down at the sensible shoes she’d chosen from the ones Isabella had offered to go with the dress. “I’d much prefer—”

“It is my understanding your preference is of no matter,” the woman said. “Put those on. Time is wasting.”

Luxury did as she was told and immediately wobbled.

The woman handed her a skinny stick. “This is for balance until you’ve mastered the art of the runway walk.”

“The what?” Luxury asked.

“Darling, do you not watch fashion week? One does not simply walk in stilettos. They glide. Watch me. You step, heel first, then toe, and then your back foot slides up, toe first, to take a step directly in front of the front foot.”

“What?” Luxury asked, trying to visualize.

“Allow me to show you.” The woman did a sexy walk, hips swaying rhythmically with each step.

“It looks harder than it is,” Isabella whispered to Lux. “Just remember, heel, toe, heel toe.”

Luxury took a breath and, at the age of thirty-one, prepared to learn to walk again.

CHAPTER 7

Two hours after meeting Doc in person—while unfortunately under Frankie’s evil eye—Scott found himself once again summoned by a woman. This one just as terrifying but in a mysterious do-gooder way.

Ms. Birdie Faraway had sent an invitation via messenger for him to join her for afternoon tea. He hated tea but would never dream of saying no to, among other things, the corporate owner of Naked Runway, which was her least impressive title as far as he was concerned. He much more liked thinking of her as the President of the Fairy Godmother Project. It had badass written all over it…sort of like Doc when she was hiding behind her microphone and standing on her soapbox berating his column.

He couldn’t help but wonder which was the real Doc. The dynamic, opinionated woman, or the woman who downplayed everything about her appearance as if she wanted to be invisible.

Arriving at his destination, he stopped and squared his shoulders before pushing open the doors of an establishment called Whispers of Java. He was five minutes late, something Ms. Birdie would frown upon.

As he stepped inside, the cozy, welcoming ambiance of the coffee shop engulfed him, and some of his stress from the day dissolved. With its warm, sun-kissed yellow walls—adorned with an eclectic mix of local artwork and vintage coffee advertisements—it would be the perfect place to slip away and get some work done. In no small part because it reminded him of his favorite coffee shop in Shiretopia. The place he, his best friend, and the woman Scott had been arranged to marry had first concocted the plan that had led to Scott leaving his country.

“Ah, there you are, my dear boy.” Ms. Birdie beckoned from a corner booth.

He waved as he approached and leaned down to kiss her cheeks before sliding into the booth. “My apologies for being late, but Father called and insisted we talk.”

She raised a brow in response and pushed a drink toward him. She was the only person in Manhattan who knew of the dilemma that faced him should he return to Shiretopia. “I took the liberty of ordering you today’s special, the Spring Blossom Latte.”

Scott eyeballed the drink, which was adorned with a single white flower petal. “Is it safe?” he teased. “Or did you have arsenic added to it when I failed to arrive in a timely matter?”

“Of course it’s safe. I always wait for an explanation before deciding to poison young men,” Ms. Birdie said with a touch of a smirk. “A call from your father is something you should never put off.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Scott wrapped his hands around the cup and glanced around. The space was a maze of mismatched tables and chairs, some plush loungers, and even a couple of loveseats that looked like they’d been plucked straight out of any one of the many quaint living rooms in Shiretopia. “Have you been here before?”

“This is my first time,” Ms. Birdie said. “One of my former clients just opened it. Isn’t it just the loveliest shop?”

“I would like to meet her interior designer. My place could use some touches of…warmth.” He’d been about to say home, but to allow Ms. Birdie to know he was homesick didn’t feel wise unless he wanted to become her next project.

She eyed him as if reading his mind. “Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, shall we get down to business?”

He pulled at his tie. What exactly was her agenda? Did he even want to know? “Does this meeting have anything to do with the Fairy Godmother Project?” The secret, nonprofit organization made things happen with money, influence, and connections instead of magic.

“You’re such a bright young man.”

He waited for her to expand. She didn’t. Which she wouldn’t, because confidentiality was a huge thing with her. “And am I right to assume you have another ‘life-changing opportunity offer’ for me?” That’s how she’d framed her request the first time she’d asked him to assist in one of her projects.

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