Faking Ms. Right (Dirty Martini Running Club, #1)(13)

“Wait, Mr. Calloway, I don’t understand.”

“Just get down here,” I said. “I’ll pay you for your time.”

“Well, okay, but I’m confused.”

I let out a frustrated breath. She never wasted my time like this. “Everly, listen to me. Address. Car. Four Seasons.”

“I… you just… um… okay?”

“And dress sexy. Text me when you get here.”

I hung up so I could text my driver, letting him know he needed to go pick her up, and I’d forward the address as soon as I had it. A few seconds later, Everly’s text with her home address came through.

Good girl.

I pocketed my phone. Judging by her address, she lived about fifteen minutes away. That meant half an hour before she’d arrive. I’d have to avoid my dad and Svetlana while I waited, but that shouldn’t be an issue. This place was crawling with people who wanted a piece of me. I usually kept to myself, so all it would take would be to show a bit of interest in a conversation, and I’d have no shortage of people to keep me occupied and unavailable.

Now, I just had to wait for Everly.





6





Everly





I stared down at my phone, wondering what had just happened. Had my boss just told me to meet him at the Four Seasons? At nine on a Friday night?

That wasn’t even the weirdest part. He’d called me Everly.

I had no idea what was going on. I’d never gone to an event with him before. He always either took a date or went alone. What was going on that he needed me down there? And dress sexy? What the hell?

The Seattle Philanthropic Society Gala was black-tie. The men would be in tuxes, the women in formal evening gowns. I didn’t know if I had a dress that would get me in the door, let alone one that was sexy. This was truly an emergency. So I did the only thing I could. I called Nora.

“Hey, love,” she said.

“Oh, thank god you answered. Are you busy? I have an emergency, and literally no time.”

“Talk to me.”

“My boss needs me to come to a black-tie event. His car is on the way to pick me up. And he said dress sexy.”

“I’ll be right down.”

I breathed out a sigh of relief, then ducked into the bathroom to glance in the mirror at my flat hair and makeup-free face. I wasn’t giving her much to work with. But if anyone could pull this off, it was Nora.

I barely had time to contemplate why Mr. Calloway had put me in this position before Nora banged on my door. I answered and she burst in, a bag slung over her shoulder and a heap of clothes in her arms. She went straight to my bedroom and dumped everything on the bed.

“Thank you so much for coming over,” I said. “I’m so lost right now. Were you busy?”

“Max was over, but I told him I had to go.”

“Oh god, I’m sorry.”

She waved a hand. “Don’t be, it’s fine. How much time do you have?”

“I don’t know, ten or fifteen minutes?”

She rolled her eyes. “Fucking hell. Okay, let’s do this. Strip.”

I took off my t-shirt and leggings while she tore through my underwear drawer, grumbling things like practical cotton and doesn’t have anything decent. She chose a strapless bra and black panties. I slipped into them while she started holding up dresses.

“No,” she said, tossing one aside. “No. Also no. No.” She threw another down and picked up a long red gown. It shimmered in the light. “Oh, this one. This might be it.”

“Red? I don’t know.”

“Are you kidding me? You can rock this. Put it on.”

She helped me into the dress and zipped it up the back. I stood in front of my full-length mirror and cringed. It was strapless and so form-fitting I felt naked. The bottom of the skirt widened just enough for a hint of a mermaid silhouette, and the slit up the leg was the only way I’d be able to walk in this thing.

I smoothed it down, running my hands from my waist to my hips.

“Don’t utter a single word.” She sounded a little breathless. “I’m never wearing it again because this is magnificent on you. But the panties have to go.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’ll have to go commando. You don’t want a line.”

“But—”

“Nope, no time.” She hiked the dress up and yanked my panties down before I could get out another word.

I fixed the dress, smoothing it down over my backside, but I felt even more naked than before. She threw a towel around my shoulders, pushed me onto the edge of the bed, and attacked my face with makeup.

Ten minutes later, I stood staring at a stranger in the mirror. The dress was… well, it was incredible. The red was deep and rich, and the fabric had something that sparkled. Nothing bold, like sequins. It was subtle, shimmering whenever I moved. She’d done my makeup flawlessly, especially for how fast she’d worked. It looked like me, just formal me. Soft eyes and bright red lips to match the dress. My hair was up—she’d complained that she needed more time to do it properly—but with the strapless dress, it worked.

“A manicure would have made the whole thing really pop, but your nails look decent at least,” she said. “Do you have shoes?”