Page 11 of The Billionaire's Masquerade Ball

“Why don’t you date any of them, then?”

“I do. Just haven’t found a guy I want to be serious with. Yet. I’m not avoiding relationships, like some people I know.” Lucy clapped her hands. “Now, let’s see how it looks with the mask.”

“Lucy,” Cynder said. “I told you. I can’t sneak into the ball. If Gail catches me, I’ll get fired. She’s just looking for an excuse. Then my dad’s company will definitely go down in flames and I’ll have no job.”

Lucy grabbed Cynder’s arm. “Come.” Cynder let herself be dragged over to the full-length mirror that rested on the floor in Lucy’s room. “Look.”

Cynder stared at her reflection. The neckline was higher, but it dipped low in the back down to the corset part, which was firmly around her waist. From the fitted middle, the material seemed to run like water down over her hips, lifting and moving as she walked, but pooling behind her when she stopped. With the color and the way the skirt moved, the dress seemed to have a life of its own.

It was perfection, more a testament to Lucy’s skill than how Cynder looked. Though she did look great in the dress. Even without makeup and her hair loose around the shoulders.

“You look incredible. This dress was meant for you, even if it ends up as a sample in the store. It’s your dress. For you. For this event. You are going to go and you aren’t going to argue anymore about it. Think of it this way: you can check out what’s going on out front and try to fix whatever Gail and your step-beasts have screwed up. Now, I’m going to go get the mask and pin your hair up so you get the full effect. Are you done arguing?”

“Yes. But who’s going to run things when I’m—”

“I will. I’ve helped you and your dad before. I’ll show up and make sure no one burns the place down. It’s not like Gail or her kids would be caught dead in the kitchen or the service areas. And with this, they won’t recognize you if they see you at the ball.”

“So bossy,” Cynder said.

“Dang straight I’m bossy. Someone has to wear the pants in this relationship.”

Cynder giggled. Lucy pulled a gold mask from a shelf in her closet and lifted it toward Cynder’s face, standing on her tiptoes to reach. Cynder adjusted it over her eyes. Though it only covered her eyes and eyebrows, Lucy was right—no one would recognize her.

“Now about the hair…”

“I want to wear it down,” Cynder said. “I wear it up all the time. I want to have it down for this part.”

Lucy cocked her head and ran her hands under Cynder’s long, brown locks, shifting the hair to fall around her shoulders. “Good thing you’ve got amazing hair. You could be a hair model.”

“I don’t want to be a hair model.”

“Or a hand model. I’ve heard hand models make a lot. But you’d have to stop biting your nails.”

“Will you shut up about being a model? I don’t want to model anything. Plus, I have a job.”

Lucy didn’t say anything and an awkwardness stretched over the silence. Neither of them had to say anything. Lucy was just as concerned that Cynder wouldn’t have a job for long. She had already started looking online and updating a resume. It was hard to make one that looked legitimate with only one job under her belt: working for Looking Glass. It’s not like she could ask Gail for a referral. She would have glowing references from clients and the vendors they had worked with but didn’t know if that would be enough.

Her stomach clenched as she thought about the reality of losing Looking Glass. Even if Gail didn’t fire her, soon the company would be unrecognizable, far from what she and her father had built together. A lot was riding on this gala, which furthered the sinking feeling she had.

“Lucy, you are incredibly talented. This dress is amazing. I can’t wait to see your designs on the runway.”

“Stop it. You know that flattery doesn’t work on me, right?”

“I’m being honest.” Cynder ruffled her hair. “I still think that you should put the name Tink in it somehow. Tink’s Designs? Tink Couture?”

Lucy smacked her hand. “Now you really need to stop before I change my mind about this dress and take it straight to the store.”

“I want to wear the dress, Luce,” Cynder whined.

“Good. Now let’s get it back on the hanger. I’ll steam it again before tomorrow night. I’ll bring it with me and meet you in the back at…what time?”

“Maybe ten?”

“So late? How long does this thing go? You know I need my sleep.”

“I’ll probably be there until at least three. Definitely skipping church this week.”

“I don’t know how you do it. I guess I’ll take a nap tomorrow afternoon. You know that I need a good ten hours to function. I’ll let you have ten to the stroke of midnight. Just like a fairy tale.”

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