Page 5 of Torrid Passion
CHAPTER 2
Kyla
“This might be showing a bit too much skin.” I stare at my reflection in horror. “I look… desperate,” I tug on the hem of the miniature, sheer, sparkly dress and stare at the extreme amount of leg and other body parts on display. “And the shoes are ridiculously high.” I know I’m on a rant, but I can’t help it. This isn’t what I expected. Two pairs of eyes as dark as mine are also staring in the mirror, but the expression on their faces is dramatically different from mine.
“The six-inch heel is the new four-inch in fashion, Kyla,” my cousin Hayden quips.
“Not happening,” I say, shaking my head. “I’ll never be able to walk elegantly in these.”
“The whole look worked for the big reality-TV-star-slash-model we used as our muse when she wore it on the red carpet for an exclusive Chopard event last month. It’s one of our popular designs this week. It’s a near copy of the original,” my other cousin Stella says, waving her finger up and down my body.
I give myself another onceover and wince. “I’m practically naked!” I exclaim. “You can see my nipples and my martini cup, even with my thong on. It’sthatsee-through!”
I’m not one of those girls who goes completely bare down there. And I never wear club wear, even when I’m going to a club. Right now, I don’t know who’s staring back at me in the mirror. It’s certainly not me. I look like a pint-sized whore.
“I thought you could pull it off,” Stella says.
In what alternate universe did you think that?
“I don’t have a stick-figure body, Stella. I have hips!” I say, tapping them.
“You forgot the amazing boobies,” she says poking at my breasts.
“Hey, hands off,” I scold.
“You have a perfect hourglass figure,” Hayden counters.
“And that bootylicious behind,” Stella adds.
Stella, Hayden and I are cousins. We were born the same year, four months apart. Since we all have older siblings, we’re as close as triplets can be because we grew up together. We even look alike with our dark hair, dark eyes, similar height and slender curves. We’re the youngest of the O’Keeffe clan, with me being the baby.
“More reasons not to look like a low-class tart or a reality TV slut,” I remind Stella.
“I’m with you, but you wouldn’t believe how many wannabe socialites in the city bought that dress,” Hayden says.
Wannabe socialites are a new breed of women in LA. They use Instagram—and photoshop—to create a pretend glamorous life. It’s the perfect way to escape their mundane lives. They had a comfortable upbringing, but their parents don’t earn enough to be called socialites. So they create the illusion. Since they can’t fork out tens of thousands of dollars for a designer couture, they flock to my cousins’ boutiques or their online store. Stella and Hayden own Red Carpet Ready––celebrity styles for much less.
“I know I’m the one who wanted to step out of my comfort zone, but clearly this was a bad idea,” I lament.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Stella says. “You’re taking a big step in getting what you need tonight and you wanted it to be reflected in your style. It totally makes sense.” She’s always so supportive.
“Yeah, I guess.” I let out a long sigh, “Let’s stick to what works for my body. No more in-your-face fashion. This is embarrassing enough.”
“Have you changed your mind about tonight?” Hayden asks cautiously.
“You’re our decoy,” Stella reminds me. “If Grant delivers, I want to be next in line.”
“I’m going through with this,” I say with a firm nod. “A part of me thinks this is absolutely crazy. I even have this track in my head that screams, ‘Abort, abort, abort’. Given who we are, dating can be as physically demanding as winning gold at the Olympics. Not to mention all the stupid head games men play are tiring.”
“I hear you,” Hayden says.
“That,” Stella points an animated finger at me. “That’s my life in a nutshell.”
“For all those reasons, I remain steadfast in my decision to meet with Grant,” I say.
“You haven’t told Harlow yet?” Hayden asks.
“God no. I doubt she’d understand.” Hayden and Stella know the horrors of trying to date when you’re an O’Keeffe. Harlow doesn’t. “She would put an immediate end to our friendship. She can never find out.”
