Chapter 12
The car weaved through midtown traffic, and Elara stared out the window at boutiques she’d never been able to afford.
Marcus might be right about the makeover.
The thought stung, but it was true. She didn’t take care of herself. Not really. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to. She loved the idea of spa days and salon appointments and getting her nails done like the women she saw in magazines. But wanting something and affording it were two very different things.
The last time she’d been to a proper salon was over a year ago. Since then, it had been DIY haircuts in her bathroom mirror and throwing her hair into whatever rough bun would hold for a twelve–hour workday. Makeup was drugstore concealer and mascara when she remembered. Clothes were whatever still fit from three years ago.
When Marcus had told her about the appointment, something childlike and giddy had sparked in her chest. She’d tried to hide it. Tried to act like it was just another task on the to–do list.
But God, she was excited.
The car pulled up to a building on Fifth Avenue. Glass doors. Marble floors. The kind of place that screamed expensive before you even walked inside.
Elara paid the driver and stepped onto the sidewalk.
Here goes nothing.
The salon was on the third floor. She rode the elevator up, watching the numbers climb, and tried not to think about how out of place she was about to feel.
The doors opened to soft music and the smell of something floral. Lavender, maybe. Or jasmine.
“Elara Vance?”
A woman in all black approached, clipboard in hand. She was impossibly put together. Hair in a sleek ponytail. Skin that
looked airbrushed.
“That’s me.”
“Perfect. We’ve been expecting you.” The woman smiled. “Mr. Thorne’s assistant called ahead. We have you booked for the full treatment. Hair, nails, brows, lashes. Should take about four hours.”
Four hours.
Elara followed her through the salon. Past stations where other women sat getting their hair styled. Past shelves lined with products she couldn’t pronounce.
They stopped at a private room in the back. Soft lighting. A leather chair that looked more comfortable than her bed. A
table with tea and small pastries arranged like art.
“Have a seat. Your stylist will be right in.”
1/5
19:52 Thu, 30 Apr G
Chapter 12
Elara sat and tried not to touch anything.
76%
65 vouchers
The stylist arrived five minutes later. A man in his forties with kind eyes and hands that moved like he was conducting an
orchestra.
“Elara, darling.” He circled her chair, studying her from every angle. “Oh, we have so much to work with. Look at these cheekbones. And your skin? Flawless. Absolutely flawless.”
She felt her face heat. “Thank you.”
“When was the last time you had your hair done professionally?”
“About a year ago.”
He gasped like she’d confessed to a crime. “A year? No, no, no. We’re fixing that today.” He ran his fingers through her hair, lifting sections, examining the ends. “You have gorgeous hair. Thick. Healthy. Just needs some love.”
For the next two hours, Elara sat in that chair while he worked. Washing. Cutting. Styling. She closed her eyes and let
herself enjoy it. The feeling of someone else’s hands in her hair. The scalp massage that made her want to fall asleep. The
way he talked to her like they were old friends.
“So,” he said, trimming carefully. “Mr. Thorne is your fiancé?”
Word traveled fast.
“Yes.”
“Lucky girl. He’s gorgeous. And rich.” He grinned at her in the mirror. “But I’m sure you love him for his personality.”
Elara forced a smile. “Of course.”
“How long have you two been together?”
“A while. We kept it quiet.”
“Smart. Office romances can be tricky.” He stepped back, examining his work. “There. Perfect.”
She looked in the mirror.
Her hair fell in soft waves past her shoulders. Longer than she’d worn it in years. Shiny. Healthy. It didn’t look like her hair. It looked like someone else’s. Someone who had time and money and didn’t spend every night too exhausted to care.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.
“You’re beautiful, darling. I just helped you see it.”
Next came nails. A woman with steady hands painted them a soft nude color. Nothing dramatic. Just clean and polished.
Then brows. Shaped and tinted until they framed her face properly.
Then lashes. Extensions that made her eyes look bigger. More awake.
2/5
19:52 Thu, 30 Apr G C
Chapter 12
76%%
3 55 vouchers
By the time they finished, Elara barely recognized herself.
Her phone buzzed in her bag. She pulled it out.
Seven missed calls. All from Emeka.
Then the texts started rolling in.
**Emeka:** *Girl.*
**Emeka:** *GIRL.*
**Emeka:** *You and Marcus?!?!*
**Emeka:** *The entire office is LOSING IT.*
**Emeka:** *He called you MAMA on the street.
**Emeka:** *Security has a VIDEO.*
**Emeka:** *CALL ME RIGHT NOW.*
Elara stared at the messages. Of course there was a video. Of course the entire office knew.
The stylist handed her a mirror. “What do you think?”
She looked at herself. Really looked.
The woman staring back didn’t look like Marcus Thorne’s overworked assistant. She looked like someone who belonged in his world. Someone who could stand next to him at charity galas and not look out of place.
“I love it,” she said honestly.
“Good. Because you have a wardrobe consultation tomorrow. Ten AM. Same building, fifth floor.”
A wardrobe consultation.
Elara thought about her closet at home. The three work blouses she rotated. The two pairs of pants that still fit. The single dress she wore to every semi–formal event.
Now she was getting an entire wardrobe. Designer clothes. Shoes that cost more than her rent.
What a nice deal with the devil.
Her phone buzzed again.
**Emeka:** *So it’s true? You and the boss?*
**Emeka: “Girl, no wonder you’ve been GLOWING.”
“Emeka I KNEW something was different.*
3/5
19:52 Thu, 30 Apr G
Chapter 12
**Emeka:** *Spill. Everything. Now.”
She typed back quickly.
**Elara:** *I promise I’ll tell you everything later. I have something I need to do right now.*
**Emeka:** *You better. I want DETAILS.*
**Emeka:** *Also congrats babe. You bagged a billionaire.*
**Emeka:** *Living the dream.”
Elara locked her phone and looked at herself in the mirror one more time.
Living the dream.
If only he knew the truth.
76%8
55 valichers
She gathered her things and thanked the stylists. Rode the elevator down to the lobby. Stepped out onto Fifth Avenue with
new hair and new nails and a face that looked like it belonged to someone else’s life.
People passed her on the street. A few did double takes. One man smiled at her.
She felt different. Lighter. Like she’d shed some old version of herself in that salon chair.
Her phone buzzed one more time.
A text from an unknown number.
*Car will pick you up at 9 AM tomorrow for wardrobe consultation. Be ready. – Dante*
Elara slipped her phone back into her bag.
Tomorrow she’d get new clothes. Friday she’d move into Marcus’s penthouse. Saturday the engagement announcement would go public.
Her life was changing so fast she could barely keep up.
Marcus driver pulled up from the drive way, she had given him her address and they rode home.
In two days, none of this would be hers anymore. Not this apartment. Not this life. Not even her name.
In two days, she’d be Elara Thorne.
The thought should have terrified her.
Instead, all she felt was that same childlike giddiness from earlier.
Maybe the devil wasn’t so bad after all.
4/5
