Hacking His Code (Beguiling a Billionaire Book 7), page 5
* * *
Arinessa: Noted.
* * *
I pocket my phone, trying to clear my head of the image of Arinessa in my bed, but it’s a powerful image that I don’t want to abandon.
If I were smart, I’d leave Arinessa to the skillful trio I have tending to her.
But if today proves anything, it’s that I’m perfectly capable of making bad decisions.
Arinessa
“Phew! The hardest part is done,” Neon says with a satisfied grin as I stand naked before the trio of women.
My makeover began three long hours ago. I’ve been bathed, waxed, polished, tanned, among other rituals that I’ve heard women do, but had yet to experience myself.
Now, it’s time to sift through the racks full of clothing, which sounds awesome, but the women I’m dealing with have a way of making everything feel like boot camp.
Neon grabs an arm full of garments. “This is going to be so much fun!”
Fun, she says. Hmmm…
I honestly think marathons would be less tiring than the rate at which they have me trying on clothes. Within twenty minutes, forty outfits are strewn across the floor, and there’s no sign of slowing. It’s not until I don an olive green A-line dress that I finally have hope of reprieve.
After zipping me up and backing away for a better view, the girls just kind of stands there, heads cocked to the side.
“I think the V-neck sits well,” Purple finally says. “The green doesn’t scream for attention, and the way it cascades from the front to the back is going to make for a stunning visual.”
Neon shakes her head sadly. “Olive green is so drab.”
“You know it’s the right choice,” Chestnut says. “It shows off her assets without displaying them.”
Neon frowns. “I guess the dress accomplishes that.”
“Let’s get started on her makeup,” Purple says. “Maybe we can do something fun.”
A loud knock sounds on the bathroom door.
“God, could we have ordered any more clothes?” Chestnut shakes her head, but when she flings open the door, it isn’t an attendant with another rack of clothing on the other side.
It’s Hunter Davies.
“Hunter!” Chestnut enthuses. “You’re going to love what we’ve done to your girlfriend!”
“May I come in?” he asks, and I pray they tell him no.
“Of course!” the trio calls out in unison.
Fuck!
Hunter
“We haven’t done her hair or makeup yet, but we have some great idea,” one of the beauticians says, but I couldn’t say who. I’m wholly focused on the gorgeous woman in the olive green dress.
“You’ve done a fabulous job, ladies,” I say truthfully. “Arinessa is stunning.”
Arinessa’s cheeks flush red, but I see the unmistakable hint of a smile playing on her lips.
“I’d like a minute alone with my lady love,” I say, and the beauticians quickly leave the room.”
Arinessa stands a few feet away, hugging herself and looking like she wants to crawl out of her skin.
Even without her hair and makeup done, she looks stunning. Better than most women fully made up.
“You look ravishing.”
My compliment doesn’t come across how I’d like it to, though, and instead of her loosening up, she scowls.
“Did I say ravishing?” I smirk. “I meant ravenous. Like you’re an apex predator looking for its next meal.”
That gets the smile back on her face.
“That dress really does look great on you. What do you think?”
“I can’t say. The sadists you hired wouldn’t let me look at myself until after hair and makeup.”
“Come look, then.” I gesture toward the mirror. “I promise I won’t tell.”
She walks on tipped toes over to the mirror, like she’s scared of her reflection.
“What do you think?”
She twirls in a circle, looking at herself from all angles. “The dress is beautiful.”
Not half as beautiful as the woman wearing it, I think to myself.
“My parents are going to ask how we met, and I’m going to tell them you applied to a scholarship I assist with.”
Arinessa nods. “Please don’t tell me we’re eating something super fancy for dinner like snails.” She scrunches her nose. “I’m totally uncultured.”
“You’re in luck because my mother doesn’t like escargot either. Chances are, we’ll be having pasta with some fancy sauce.”
She wipes the back of her hand across her forehead. “Phew!”
“The hard copies of the files will be brought up while we’re at dinner.”
“I can’t wait to get started.”
As insane as it sounds, the way she goes about her work is incredibly arousing. Watching her on the computer earlier was damn near erotic with the way her eyes were locked on the screen and how she gently nibbled her lower lip.
I’m fairly certain she doesn’t have a boyfriend, but I do wonder if she’s in some kind of ‘friends with benefits’ situation. That would be ideal for a woman like her who is most concerned about school and a sick mother.
Seeing as how we’ll be working so closely together, I suppose I could dance around the topic. Forging a good working relationship should be of paramount importance, and that requires getting to know each other.
“Am I going to have an angry boyfriend coming at me if he gets wind of our arrangement?” I ask innocuously.
She snorts. “Boyfriend? That would require me tolerating the presence of a man, which I rarely do.”
Not the answer I would expect from a college-aged woman.
“If you don’t mind me asking, are you gay?”
Her head snaps in my direction. “Huh?”
“It’s not a problem if you are. I’m merely curious.”
“No, I’m not gay. Unless you count the occasional dream of Gal Gadot as Wonder Woman as being gay.”
“Well, that is kind of gay,” I reason.
“I promise you, every woman has had that dream at least one.”
“As has every man.”
Her face brightens as though she’s just had a revelation. “I guess deep down, we’re all just Gadot-sexual.”
It’s the equivalent of a ‘dad joke,’ but it gets me laughing. I can’t say I’ve ever had a conversation like this with a woman before. Plenty have offered up threesomes in order to keep me interested, which is admittedly sexy as hell.
But Ari isn’t just sexy. She’s also a lot of fun.
“I’ll tell you my dreams if you tell me yours,” I offer with a waggle of my brow.
“No, thanks. I have enough imagination that I don’t need to borrow yours. Gal is probably bored in your dreams, anyway.”
“You may have home-field advantage, but I have a desperate desire to please. Don’t be surprised if it’s my name she screams out.”
Ari suddenly looks like a deer caught in headlights, and I wonder if I’ve gone too far. “Was it something I said? I meant no disrespect.”
“No…I just ran out of witty banter.”
“Well, next time you meet up with Gadot in your dreams, ask her if I ever run out of anything.” I lean down to whisper into her ear. “Spoiler Alert: the answer is no.”
Arinessa rolls her eyes then begins sifting through a mountain of shoes.
“It’s good that you’re single,” I say. “Because the last thing I need is some hot-headed boyfriend losing their shit because you dress up for me and not them.”
“Ummm, I’m dressing up for your parents.”
“Sure.” I cast her a wink.
Arinessa slips on a pair of shoes with dangerously high heels and very little surface area at the bottom.
“How on Earth do women even walk in these?” she says, wobbling as she tries to stand upright.
“Careful, Bambi,” I warn.
“If twig-thin women can walk around a club in them all night, I can surely walk a couple of feet,” she says, carefully toddling forward.
She gets four steps, then turns brazenly like she’s walking a runway only to lose her balance, falling against the vanity.
“Fuck!” she shouts as she flounders to stand upright.
When I laugh, she looks over at me with scathing eyes.
“Let me help you.” I kneel, offering to take the shoes from her feet.
She complies, and I slip them off.
What I wouldn’t give to slip her dress off instead.
“Dammit!” Ari frantically rubs at a makeup smear on her skirt. “It’s ruined.”
I look over at the racks full of clothing and a pile on the floor. “I wouldn’t worry. You have about fifty other dresses to choose from.”
“Sorry, I feel like I just wasted your money.”
“It’s hardly something you should apologize for. I can’t remember the last time I laughed so hard.”
“It’s great that my misfortune is something that brightened your day.”
“Let me go get the girls, and they’ll help you pick something else out.”
“Thanks…”
I exit the bathroom to find the glam trio raiding my fridge.
“While you ladies did a fabulous job of assisting Ari in getting ready, I’m afraid things got a little…out of hand in there, and you’re going to have to pick out a new dress.”
Their brows shoot up in unison.
“Out of hand?” Sam says.
I give her a wink and let them draw their own conclusion.
“Sure thing, boss,” Joey says.
“Oh, and this time try for more of a femme fatale vibe.”
Joey’s face contorts in confusion. “For…dinner…with your parents?”
“Make it sexy, but not too spicy.”
Arinessa
Neon, Purple, and Chestnut come back into the room with sly grins on their faces.
“Sorry about the dress,” I say sheepishly.
“I hope it was worth it,” Neon says with a wink.
I scrunch my brow in confusion. “Actually, it was pretty terrible. I ruined a nice dress that fit like a dream for—”
“Some hot as fuck sex on the vanity!” Purple pretends to hump Chestnut, who dons a mortified look on her face.
So that’s how Hunter spun it.
“Yeah, it was an intense twenty seconds,” I reply back, then turn away so they can’t catch me smiling.
Purple rummages through the racks, looking for another outfit.
Neon places her chin on Purple’s shoulder. “What screams femme fatale!”
Femme fatale? Oh, no—
“Uhhhh, I don’t think femme fatale is really appropriate for the occasion.”
“It’s what Hunter wants,” Chestnut says.
That asshole…
“Yeah, but I think I’d rather go with—”
Neon hushes me with a finger to my lips. “We are getting paid by Hunter. If you have the means to pay us, we’ll take your suggestions into consideration, but he specifically requested you wear femme fatale.”
When I handed my life over to Hunter for a week, I never expected it would include what I’m supposed to wear, and although I might not love what they’re going to pick out for me, it’s not worth arguing over.
Besides, if I get a few swanky outfits in addition to my paycheck, who am I to complain?
“Fine.”
“Ah-ha!” Purple holds up a black dress. “This one’s perfect!”
I’m whisked out of the green dress and into the black one, and while it may be plain in embellishments, it clings to me in such a way that’s sure to draw attention no matter the crowd.
“It’s kind of crazy that Hunter’s wanting to introduce you to the ’rents so soon after meeting you,” Neon says.
“Who says it’s soon?” I return.
Neon grabs my hand, holding it up so that I’m looking at my newly-polished fingernails. “The state of your nails and eyebrows. When a woman is dealing with a man, their nails and brows are always perfectly manicured.”
Wow…I had no idea I was screaming spinsterdom everywhere I went.
Purple pushes me into a chair, and the three begin assaulting me with brushes, creams, and tubes of makeup.
“Can I look in the mirror yet?” I ask.
“Not until the final reveal!” Neon insists.
Chestnut eyes me critically. “We should take off the red lipstick and replace it with light pink. With the smokey eyes, it’s too much.”
“You-you gave me smokey eyes?” I stutter out as Purple scrubs my lips.
“Hush!” Neon presses her finger to my lips again.
“Yeah, about this whole ‘smokey eye’ thing, and those extensions you put on the lashes…I really don’t think it’s necessary when I’m just attending a dinner—”
“With Hunter Davies’ family,” Neon interrupts. “We know what we’re doing. Trust us.”
I look down at my body, suddenly realizing just how much of me is on display. “Does my rack really need to be front and center? Can’t we go with one of those sundresses with the flower print?” I gesture to the rack.
Purple dabs a sparkly brush between my cleavage. “Your tits look great. Why not have them on display?”
Oh, great…now I’m glitter tits.
It’s become clear that I was raised on a completely different planet than these three. Possibly in another solar system. Each of them has their own signature style of beauty, whether it be outrageous like Neon’s or edgy like Purple’s. Being around them, I feel like an awkward, lumpy potato.
And trust me when I say it’s not because I feel unattractive. I think I look fine. Great even…but in this dress, I exude awkwardness.
I wonder which of the three Hunter would prefer. I always assume men desire supermodels, but what man would complain if they had Neon on their arm? Or…in their bed…
“So, do you know Hunter well?” I ask, trying not to sound jealous.
They glance askance at each other with trepidation. Not a good sign.
“We work with Ernestine frequently. When she tries to shake things up a bit,” Neon says nonchalantly. “That’s how we got to know Hunter.”
“Did you ever think you’d get to work for a living, breathing Hollywood legend?”
“Honestly, I’ve only ever watched the documentaries,” Purple says. “I love the part where they describe Rand and Ernestine’s relationship, but what makes it better is knowing that it’s real, that in person, they’re just as in love as they say in all those shows they’ve made.”
Their relationship unfolded before I was even born, but there are still documentaries being filmed on it today. ‘Beauty and the Geek’ was branded on every magazine at the time of their coupling, with pictures of them plastered on the cover.
Then disaster struck, and they receded to the shadows. Who could blame them?
“It’s ironic that Ernestine requires a glam squad when she doesn’t go out much,” I respond.
“Are you kidding? She’s obsessed with looking perfect for Rand,” Chestnut says. “I doubt he’s ever seen her with an eyelash out of place.”
“And she still attends a lot of functions,” Neon cuts in. “She’s just very private and purposefully doesn’t draw a crowd. Celebrities know how to disappear when they want to.”
“I’m changing her hair up a bit to match the style of the dress,” Chestnut says. “Large waves will frame her face perfectly.”
The three work in unison, seemingly never getting in each other’s way, and finally, when they’re done with my hair and makeup, Purple sets a pair of shoes down.
“Try these on,” she says.
Shit…
The shoes are simple enough, black with three-inch heels, but after what happened earlier, I don’t trust myself to walk in them.
“Ummm, can I wear flats?”
“Absolutely, not!” Neon says with bulging eyes.
I try to protest, but Chestnut slips them on my feet, and at this point, I know there’s no reasoning with them.
“Walk around a bit,” Neon says. ”You’ll be fine.”
Well, here goes nothing…
I walk over to the mirror with relative ease, the heels proving to be structured much better than the previous pair.
“You’re gorgeous!” Neon enthuses.
The visual before me leaves me weak-kneed and breathless. My unruly hair has somehow been perfectly tamed, framing my face with large, lush waves of curls. My eyes are indeed smokey, like you see on magazine covers. What I’m most impressed by, however, are my lips, which look far plumper than I know they really are.
What magic is this?
And that’s just from the neck up.
The black dress I’m wearing is low cut, yet the cups somehow manage to contain my breasts in such a way that they’re both on display, yet fully supported. A quality Forever 21 and Target can’t seem to get right. The hem sits a couple inches above my knees, a professional length but far from modest.
I look like I could walk a runway in Milan or head a corporate board. I feel vulnerable and powerful all at once. It’s dizzying, terrifying, and if I’m not careful, I think I could get addicted.
Purple appears next to me in the mirror, smiling and bubbly. “Not too bad, if I do say so myself.”
Words fail me, not because I’m modest, but because it just doesn’t make sense to me. Since when do I have any business looking like this on my ramen noodle budget?
“You just went from a low five to a high nine!” Neon enthuses. “We should really put a before and after picture of you on our website.”
“Gee, thanks…I guess.” Again, I should be offended, but coming from Neon, all I can do is laugh.
Chestnut joins in, saying, “Hunter isn’t going to be able to keep his hands off you.”
Jokes on her because Hunter’s hands will never lay a finger on me. Even if he was interested in me, I want nothing to do with spoiled rich brats that think they can kidnap a woman and then say, “Oops.”
Or at least that’s what I tell myself.
He does offer a striking visual.
