Page 43 of Obsessed Heir

“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 theclient 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 meanteverything.

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.

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