Page 32 of Cipher's Baby Girl
Three pairs of eyes widen in unison.
"Holy shit," Luna breathes, her mouth dropping open.
"I knew that color would be perfect," Sophie says smugly.
Angel simply smiles, a knowing look in her eyes. "You need different underwear, though.”
“True,” Sophie points out practically. “Your panty lines are showing."
Which is how I find myself, twenty minutes later, in another store surrounded by lacy, barely-there undergarments in colors I didn't even know underwear came in.
"I can't wear those," I whisper to Angel as Luna holds up a black lace thong that seems to be mostly holes. "They're so… minuscule.”
Angel laughs softly. "No one will see them but you…unless you choose to show them to someone,” she assures me. "But trust me, knowing you're wearing something sexy underneath makes you carry yourself differently."
I think of the plain white cotton sets that are my staple—practical, modest, forgettable. Maybe there is something to Angel's theory.
"This one," Luna decides, holding up a matching set in deep burgundy that perfectly matches the dress. The bra is lacy but not overly revealing, the panties provide more coverage than a thong but are still decidedly sexier than anything I've ever owned.
"Fine," I concede, taking the set and ignoring the voice in my head, wondering what Cipher would think if he knew I was wearing these beneath my clothes. Would his eyes darken with that hunger I glimpsed the night he took my virginity? Would he call me "Baby Girl" in that rough voice that made my insides melt?
I push the thoughts away. It doesn't matter what he would think. That ship has sailed and is now a wreck at the bottom of the ocean.
After paying, we head back to the compound for phase two of this crazy transformation plan.
"Sit," Sophie commands, pointing to a chair she's positioned in front of her vanity. "And close your eyes. No peeking until we're done."
For the next hour, I surrender myself to their ministrations. Sophie works on makeup, Angel handles my hair, and Luna buzzes around, occasionally refilling our drinks. No one gives me any grief for sticking to ginger ale.
"Okay," Angel says finally, her hands settling on my shoulders. “Ta-da!” She turns me to face the full-length mirror. “Take a look.”
That can't be me. Blonde hair falls in loose, tousled waves around a face transformed by makeup—smoky eyes that make hazel irises pop, cheekbones sculpted with something shimmery, lips painted a deep red. The new dress hugs my body perfectly, and the sexy underwear beneath makes me stand a little straighter, just as Angel predicted. Four-inch black heels make my legs look longer than they have any right to.
No way. I hardly recognize myself.
The woman in the mirror looks sophisticated, sexy, confident—everything I'm not.
"Is that really me?" I whisper, reaching up to touch my face before Sophie slaps my hand away.
"Don't touch! You'll smudge it," she scolds. "And yes, it's really you. We didn't change anything—just enhanced what was already there."
"You're beautiful, Rose," Angel says softly.
A knock at the door interrupts us. "You ladies decent?" Rash calls through the wood. "Ghost nominated me to be your escort tonight."
Sophie opens the door, revealing Rash in his leather cut over a clean black button-down shirt. His eyes widen comically as they move over us, from one to the next.
"Holy shit," he says, giving a low whistle. "You girls clean up nice."
Rash makes a sweeping gesture of exaggerated gallantry with his arm. "Shall we? Your chariot awaits."
The common room is busier than I expected, with brothers gathered around the pool table and sprawled on couches. All conversation dies as we pass through, heads turning to stare. I resist the urge to cross my arms over my chest, to hide from their appraising looks.
"Damn, Rose," Hawk says from his spot near the bar. "You trying to cause heart attacks tonight?"
"Back off," Luna says, linking her arm through mine possessively.
"Just appreciating the view," Hawk says, raising his hands in surrender. "No harm in looking."
