Page 70 of Sinful Escape

I hadn’t realized he’d stopped. “Oh, sorry.” I fetched thirty euros from my purse and shoved it forward. “Keep the change.” Clutching my bags, I dragged my miserable body from the taxi into the hotel.

Forcing my feet to take me to the elevator, I stepped in and jabbed the button for my floor.

My breath hitched as the mirrored doors closed.

I hardly recognized myself. Turning sideways, I admired my hair. The beautiful braid made my usually frizzy mop look thick and lush. I reached up to touch my face but stopped. My skin looked incredible. My heart thudded in my ears. I looked beautiful.

For the first time in my life, I liked my reflection.

I was no longer that naïve, stupid twenty-two-year-old who’d created an illusion of being engaged to the man who’d stolen her heart.

That woman was long gone. I was a woman who'd traveled extensively throughout Europe. I was smart and interesting and independent.

I was looking at myself, yet my wonderful reflection made me feel different. Confident and, dare I say it, sexy. Yes, that was it; I felt sexy. Why did my frizzy hair and freckles make me feel unsexy? They didn’t change who I was inside.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to press the stop button and stare at my reflection all night.

No, I didn’t.

I wanted to slip on my sexy new dress and shoes and show the world the new Daisy Chayne.

Better than that. I wanted Roman to see the new me.

In my room, I stripped off, taking care not to mess up my new hairstyle. I waded through my underwear collection, trying to find a pair of knickers that wouldn’t show lines beneath my new dress. My limited options had me wishing I’d bought new lingerie while I was at the shops. Too late.

In the end, the best option was one of nanna knickers that I usually reserved for that time of the month. I chose the skin-toned ones and tugged them up to my waist. They were fucking ugly. But practical. I paired them with my equally ugly skin-toned bra and wrestled my tits into position.

Forcing myself not to look at my reflection until I was fully dressed, I tugged on the sexy black dress and pulled the zipper from the hemline to my bust. I slipped into the shoes and latched them at the ankle.

I waited until I had the jewelry on before I turned to the mirror.

My breath caught. Tears welled in my eyes, but I dabbed them away before they spoiled my makeup. I admired my hair, my makeup, my new dress that fitted me like I’d had it personally made.

My transformation was stunning.

Drab Daisy Chayne was gone. Before me was a woman who looked classy, confident, and smoking hot. I did what so many had done to me over the years . . . I looked up and down my body. Smoothing my hands over my hips, I smiled, and my already incredible transformation elevated to a positively glowing experience. My stomach fluttered as I anticipated Roman’s reaction.

I grabbed my phone, and it took seven attempts before I worked out how to take a full-body mirror photo without cutting off my head or feet, or pulling a face like I had a stick up my ass. The photo was so incredible that for the first time ever, I decided to send a selfie to Azalia.

Guess who?

Who are you? And what did you do with the real Daisy Chayne?

LOL I had a makeover

Holy fuck babe. You’re smoking

Thanks

Studying my reflection, I replied.

I hardly recognize myself

You hooking up with Roman?

My jaw dropped.

No!!! Of course not!

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