Page 158 of The Re-Proposal

“Yes,” she says in a flat tone.

I shift uneasily. “Mimi, I appreciate all the effort you’re—”

“If you’re going to say you don’t deserve it or it’s too much or you don’t want to accept Cody’s gift, I will hog tie you with this scarf.” She flails a tie-dye fabric in front of me.

I ease back. “I was going to say that I don’t let anyone touch my hair.” My fingers fluff my ponytail. “It took me a long time to grow my natural curls and,” I glance at Gelano who looks like he knows as much about black hair as I do about fashion, “my hair is thick and coarse. Those fancy hairdos you see on celebrities might not look the same on me. If you insist on a style, I can see what I can do with my own hair.”

“Gelano is quite experienced doing hair ofalltextures.” Mimi’s eyes narrow to slivers. “Do you think I’m an amateur?”

“O-of course not.”

“Go take a shower.”

I gawk. “You’re just going to hang around in here until I’m done?”

“We’ll wait. Yes.”

I give Gelano a distrustful look.

One of Mimi’s perfectly plucked eyebrows pops in disdain. “Do you think there’s anything in this pitiful hovel we’d like to steal?”

Why does everything that falls out of that woman’s mouth sound so abrasive?

I frown. “I’ll be right back.”

I take a shower, spending extra time with my lotion and opting out of using baby powder. I have a feeling the dress Mimi brought me is expensive and I don’t want her to give me the stink eye if she sees white powder on it.

Once I’m out of the shower, I fall into a Gelano-tornado. He doesn’t ask about my bruises. Neither does Mimi. I’m not sure what that says about them and their glamorous clientele. How often do they work with clients who have fading bruises?

Time flies and, when I finally get a good look at myself, I almost topple over.

The results areamazing.

My hair is in a braided crown with gold thread weaving in and out. The gold matches the shimmering color of the highlights on my cheeks. The dress Mimi chose for me is lemon yellow, but it’s not garish at all. Instead, the color celebrates my brown complexion.

It hugs my waist in an alluring way before flaring out at the bottom. Despite the rounded shape, the fabric is light and delicate as it parts in the front to show off my legs and the glittering butterfly stilettos.

I look… angelic.

“Is that me?” I ask the alluring creature in the mirror.

“It’s you.”

Emotions choke my throat.

I’ve never felt so stunning in my life.

“You’ve evolved.” Mimi adjusts the sleeves hanging off my shoulders. “You are not Clarissa the Charity Worker. You are Clarissa the Belle of the Ball. Do you understand?”

“I understand.”I just don’t know if I can pull it off.

My fingers dig into the dress and the unease must show on my face because Mimi asks, “What do you fear?”

Rejection.

Being outed as a fraud who doesn’t belong.

Being laughed at.

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