Page 63 of The Boy I Hate

Renee positioned Samantha in front of the mirror and shook her head at their reflection. “You’re single for the first time in six years, and there happens to be some really hotgroomsmen.”

“Ren—” she tried to protest, but Renee only pushed her down in the chair and pulled the towel from her head “You’re going to let loose tonight, Samantha. That’s all I want. And yes, I’m using my bride status to get you to conform to my will. Getoverit.”

Samantha was barely able to control her giggles as Renee began to work hermagic.

For all the creativity Samantha had with clay, Renee had just as much when it came to beauty. She brushed, curled, and teased Samantha’s hair until it hung in large, glossy waves down her back. Then she worked on Samantha’s makeup, giving her skin a dewy, flawless finish, with smoky eyes and a pouty, nude lip that made her almostgiddy.

“There,” Renee said to her reflection. “Now you can go getdressed.”

Samantha stood up from the chair, and Renee immediately took her place and began doing her ownmakeup.

The romper still hung on the back of the door, and she took it from its hanger before turning back to Renee. “I don’t know, Ren. I don’t think I can wear a brawiththis.”

Renee barely glanced up from applying her mascara. “You don’t. There are pasties in the bag, just putthoseon.”

Samantha wiped over her face, thinking Renee was crazy, but then she started to imagine what Tristan would think if he saw her like this. What he would say, or not say—and that was all it took for her to grab the romper and head out of the room. Immediately, she went to her bedroom, fetched a minuscule black thong and put it on with the pasties. She’d never worn such a thing in her life, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’tfeelsexy.

After stepping into the romper, she pulled the thin straps over her shoulders, and just like Renee said, it fit her perfectly, though there was barely enough fabric to cover her ass. She bent over, testing it out as she watched herself in the mirror. Luckily the bottom was shorts, because there was no way she’d be able to bend overotherwise.

She stepped into the five-inch heels and did a spin in front of the mirror to check all angles. Her back was almost bare, all the way down to the top of her panty line. The only thing covering it was the thin straps that crossed in the back in an X, and left no question about what was underneath…or whatwasn’t.

The front was actually the most conservative of the piece. The fabric extended all the way up to her neck, draping sensually over her breasts. She had to admit, it was sexyashell.

She found Renee leaning against the doorjamb watching her. Her nose wrinkled like a raisin as she grinned from ear to ear. “You look hot,” Renee said, pushing off the wall to stand beside Samantha. She wore a dress equally as short as Samantha’s but made of a white lace. The color was a gorgeous contrast against her golden skin, and together they crossed the whole spectrum of sexual beasts. Day vs. Night. Light vs. Dark. Angel vs.Devil.

Renee handed her a couple of gold bangles and a pair of earrings. “Put these on. We should get going in a fewminutes.”

Samantha did as she was told, but before they left for the party, she excused herself once again to the bathroom. There on the floor, under a fallen towel, she found her cellphone.

Wild Stallion:Have you ever heard the term ‘Blueballs’?”

27

Chapter Twenty-seven

The rooftop was already decoratedwhen they got there. It was like a scene fitting of a James Bond movie. All elegance, class, and lights. Ten or so cocktail tables surrounded by dark wooden stools were arranged around the dance floor. Twinkling lights were strung along the rooftop, creating a canopy above them, and giving the illusion ofstars.

Samantha and Renee walked down the steps to the dance floor, where Phin stood waiting. He had on a tailored suit, with a white dress shirt open at the throat, and looked sexy as hell. He raked his eyes up and down his future bride, and Samantha quickly turned around, wanting to give them some sense ofprivacy.

They would have perfect babies. Beautiful, strong, elegantbabies.

The rooftop was already packed with people, maybe forty or so, all dressed to the nines. She immediately scanned the space looking for Tristan, but he was nowhere to be seen. She took her phone out of her purse and sent himatext.

Mona:Whereareyou?

She waiteda few seconds for a reply that never came, then tucked the phone back into her bag and began walking toward the bar. Soft music played through the loudspeakers, and people were laughing and mingling all around her. She sat down at one of the oak seats at the bar and signaled for the bartender. She felt slightly naked, having never worn something quite so revealing out in public. But she held her head high, and tried not to imagine what everyone else wasthinking.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asked, bracing his arms on the counter in frontofher.

She cleared her throat and resisted the urge to cross her arms at her chest. “A martini, please. Extraolives.”

He nodded, and she quickly turned around to look over the patio. There was a dark haired man sitting just two seats over, and she decided it wouldn’t hurt to introduceherself.

She hooked her heeled shoe on the rung of the barstool and crossed her legs. “Hi,” she began. “I’m Samantha. The maid of honor.” After all, she’d be spending the next few days with these people. She might as well get toknowthem.

He grinned slightly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose before nodding. “Devon Montgomery,” he stated. “The bride’s cousin. We’ve metbefore.”

She bit her bottom lip, narrowing her eyes to get a better look. His eyes were dark, and he was very handsome, but he looked nothing like his blond haired cousin. “Devon? Oh my gosh, I haven’t seen you…in, well… Since that summer you threw dirt inmyear.”

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