Page 119 of Cara
“You look like a harlot, darling.”
Dio, it’s good to see her. “I'm beyond hope.”
“Well, I'm here to save the day then. Couldn’t miss your big return to society now, could I?”
A hopeless laugh leaves me. “I’ll take any help you’re willing to give me at this point.”
“First, we need to clean up your face. Start over.”
Courtney starts with cream, smoothing my skin. With a frown, she dabs a sponge of concealer over my scars. Scars that weren’t there the last time she did this. She updates me on what I’ve missed while tilting my face up to hers, swiping, primping, and powdering. Her brother’s passing. The move she made to be closer to Dante—something he insisted on to keep an eye on her. Very much something Dante would do, but it fills me with an insane amount of happiness to know that while I was away, they took her in, made her family.
Eventually, she has to sit, unable to stand as long as she used to. When I push her to rest, she swats my hands away, taking as much pleasure in going through the motions with me as before. Her eyes start to water as she paints my lips a deep red.
“I can’t tell you how good it is to be with you, darling. To have you back. I always feared your father and Arturo would take it too far to keep Xavier leashed.” She shakes her head, expelling the tears. “I don’t think I slept a sound night in four years until I got the call that you’d come back.”
She sets down the lipstick on the vanity. “Are you scared?”
“Terrified.”
She smiles, stunned by my honesty. “Well, you’re not your mamma. Never will be. Damn all of them. Be yourself becausewho you are is worth more than a hundred Camillas. You will turn heads as you always have. Men will flock, and women will envy. Be kind but restrained. Warm but cautious. Trust none of them, and you’ll bejustfine.”
“How I’ve missed your pep talks.”
Courtney huffs as she grabs the curling iron, adjusting the Hollywood waves that frame my face. “You used to roll your eyes every time I tried.”
“I was young.”
“Four years ago?” She laughs at my eye roll. “You’re something, girl. Stand up so I can see you.”
After a few touch-ups, she’s satisfied enough to help me into my gown. She adjusts the cowl neck dipping between my breasts, mending the off-shoulder sleeves, smoothing out the satin slit revealing skin to my thigh. The freshly bloomed red rose she’s pinned by my ear adds her unique touch, and I'm just rolling with it. Slipping into heels evokes a transporting memory.
“I forgot how much I hated heels.”
“You’ve never been more beautiful.”
Scoffing, I give the dress a pat, avoiding my reflection at all costs. “You have to say that.”
She grabs my waist, pulling me to the floor-length mirror. “Look at yourself, Sophie.”
I never hesitated to look before. After spending a year in a place where training and beatings took precedence over any kind of grooming, with no mirror in sight, I stopped caring what I looked like. I wouldn’t see myself the way I used to—that much would always remain true.
Courtney has to stretch onto her tiptoes to grab my chin, forcing me to gaze at the woman looking back at me. There are no words. Emotion takes over as my eyes observe. My hair isn’t greasy, slicked back into a braid to prevent it from being torn out. My hair cascades over my shoulders like rolling waves ofinked water. The dark bruises have faded since I’ve been here, erasing the evidence of Reykjavík. There are no malnourished rings around my eyes, just a fan of eyeshadow and mascara to accentuate the blue tint of my irises. The soft satin clings to my breasts, my waist, and my hips, and for once, I don’t wish to hide myself from the world.
It’s been years of hiding—nothing else.
“Do you see what I’m seeing?”
“I'm starting to.” My esophagus tightens as I pull her into an embrace. “Thank you.”
“This is all you, my dear,” she says. “But I'm going to take a little credit, too. I haven’t lost my touch.”
Courtney pecks my pink cheek, mumbling about a game of dominoes, and then she’s off. Disappearing into the bathroom while I spray perfume on my wrists and rub the sweetness into my neck, I keep catching glimpses of myself in the mirror, fighting back laughter.
This issodamn bizarre.
Mimi bounces into the room, immediately spotting me in the bathroom. Elegantly dressed in cream chiffon that puffs at her waist, drifting like pillowed clouds to the floor, my smile widens, gaping at her. “That dress is insane.”
She places her hands on her hips. “Well, you’re goddamn Aphrodite. Holy hell.”
