Page 57 of Crossing the Line
Waverly decided to save him the effort and dug her phone out of the pocket of her robe. “Nothing is ruined. This is the dress I’m wearing.” She pulled up a picture from one of her fittings. “I think the gold is going to look even better against this, don’t you?”
Sylvia snatched the phone out of her hands and held it out at arm’s length, turning her head this way and that. “Well, I suppose I can make do with this,” she sighed. “Yes, I think the gold will still work. But next time, you must talk to me before you decide to do something drastic.”
Waverly made eye contact with Jenni in the mirror. The stylist winked as she wrapped a section of hair around the barrel of a curling iron. Waverly wondered what Jenni and Chase heard behind the chairs of other mother-daughter duos in Hollywood. Was it the same story everywhere? The same war between pride and envy? Of family responsibility and a desire to be one’s own?
With the crisis averted, Sylvia leaned back and let Chase set her makeup with a few deft sprays. “I told Kate to make sure Hollywood News gets a shot of all three of us together,” Sylvia said. “Oh! And Gwendolyn wanted me to remind you to make sure you mention how much you adored working with Liam. She felt you went a little light on the message at the junket.”
“Mm-hmm,” Waverly said, noncommittally.
Sylvia sighed dramatically. “I wish Liam wouldn’t have run off and gotten married. An affair between the two of you would have been just too perfect.”
Waverly let her mother chatter on and tried to relax. She had a routine that she religiously adhered to leading up to big events to help keep the panic at bay. At best, the energy at these events was exhausting. And if she wasn’t properly prepared, it could be a trigger. The press of the crowd, the atmosphere of excitement. Then there were the journalists and bloggers and TV hosts, all wanting the sound bite that people would talk about for days. Everyone wanted something from her.
To be the focus of so much energy was enough to spike anyone’s anxiety levels. But to Waverly it was a special kind of torture. She’d never been able to bask in the attention as her mother did. She felt guilty at times, living the life that so many others dreamed of yet not finding the happiness and fulfillment that were supposed to be there.
The panic attacks were practically non-existent these days. Thanks to the therapy she’d secretly completed, she had the tools she needed to cope. And she would have Kate and Xavier with her. She’d be steadier with them next to her.
She stole a glance at her mother who puckered prettily so Chase could check her lip stain. Sylvia never felt a moment’s nerves on the carpet. She was born for it and would never understand how the place she felt the most at home was a secret torture for her own daughter.
Jenni combed her fingers through Waverly’s tresses, and she closed her eyes and blocked everything else out to focus on her breath.
Her mother left to dress after a final reassurance that the Marchesa was still stunning and perfect, and Waverly, now with miles of wild waves, moved to Chase’s chair. She thought of it as armor. Her hair and makeup were always several steps in the opposite direction of what she would personally choose. It was her way of creating a distance, a persona. The persona could come under attack, and Waverly would still escape unscathed.
Chase finished up, and when Waverly opened her eyes, she didn’t even recognize herself in the mirror. In her place was a woman with flawless skin, a mysterious pout, and enough smoke around the eyes to dazzle on camera. Her hair was ripe with a riot of waves with tiny braids tucked here and there for texture and drama. It was the perfect homage to her character in the movie who often wore her hair wild.
“You guys are miracle workers,” Waverly sighed. She gave Chase and then Jenni a quick hug.
She left them to pack up and returned to the guest room across the hall where her finished dress hung over the cheval mirror. Waverly preferred to dress alone and use the time to settle her nerves and mentally prepare. She pulled on the skirt and smoothed the tulle over her hips. The satin top laced up the back in a kind of corset to highlight her silhouette. She loosened the ties and slipped the top over her head. She’d get someone downstairs to lace her up properly, Waverly decided.
Overall the look was dramatic and intense without losing the sense of youth. It would certainly cause a stir on the red carpet. She made a mental note to send Padma flowers after tonight to thank her for her emergency dress services.
A knock at the door pulled her attention from the mirror.
“Come in,” she called.
The door swung inward and her breath caught in her throat when Xavier walked in. Even in a tuxedo, his raw, masculine energy made itself known. Where others would have looked elegant in the satin-lapeled Brioni, Xavier looked dangerous. There was power in the way he prowled into the room, authority in the way he looked at her.
He paused and took in the view and Waverly felt her temperature rise from the weight of his gaze. “That dress didn’t look like that on the hanger,” he said finally.
“Hmm, no it didn’t,” Waverly said innocently. “Can you lace me up?” she asked, turning her back to him.
He joined her at the mirror and she felt his long fingers brush the skin at her back as they plucked at the satin strings of the corset.
He pulled and she felt the tension around her breasts increase. “Tighter,” she said.
He met her eyes in the mirror and she felt the strong tug at her back.
The tension she felt now shifted to pool between her legs. Each time his fingers brushed her bare skin, tender goose bumps erupted.
“Better?”
“I can still breathe, but it looks pretty good.” She put her hands on her hips and nodded at her reflection. “Is it time to go?”
“We have a few minutes. I have something for you.” Xavier pulled a small box out of his jacket pocket.
Waverly turned around to face him. “You got me a present?”
“Invictus got you a present,” Xavier corrected her, opening the box. It was a delicate anklet in platinum with a small round heart charm encrusted with tiny diamonds dangling from the thin chain.
