Beauty and the Assassin Read online

  “It’s okay,” I say reflexively, surprised at the apology. It wasn’t like Elizabeth had anything to do with Gwen’s behavior.

  “Anyway, it won’t happen again.” Her tone is too cool, too absolute, and I can’t argue. “Such a hypocrite. It isn’t as if she can tell different vintages apart by just looking and smelling them.”

  That makes me feel better, especially since Gwen made it sound like me not being able to do that makes me the lowest of the ghetto scum.

  Elizabeth drives us up Wilshire Boulevard and past Rodeo Drive. I glance at the street as we go past. One more block and she turns, turns again, and pulls into a parking structure. There’s not a mall in sight.

  “Are we going shopping on Rodeo?” I ask, slightly nervous. There’s no way I can buy anything that comes from there.

  “Oh, heavens no. Too many tourists.” Elizabeth finds a slot, cuts the engine and exits the car. I do the same as Tolyan’s SUV pulls in next to the Lamborghini. He jumps out lightly.

  “The very best for your girl,” Elizabeth says with a bright smile.

  I flinch, but Tolyan’s expression—flat to begin with—doesn’t change.

  I should say something. I don’t want him thinking I told Elizabeth we’re dating or something. “I’m not—”

  “Oh, hush. Don’t forget what I said in the car.” She loops her arm around mine and leads me back out onto the street.

  Oh my God, no! Now he’s really going to think I said something I shouldn’t have!

  But Elizabeth is like a tornado, dragging me along without giving me a chance to say anything. We pass a couple of restaurants and boutiques, coming to one with a French name in small cursive lettering. A bell tinkles as we go in, as though wind is blowing through small chimes.

  Tolyan follows half a step behind. I feel his presence like a burning furnace at my back. I wish I could talk to him about correcting Elizabeth’s misperception, but he doesn’t seem like he wants to talk. Or maybe he doesn’t think it matters what Elizabeth assumes. Either way, I don’t like it.

  The interior is indirectly lit with dark brown walls and flooring. There are scallop chairs sitting next to the walls and freestanding racks of brightly colored clothes here and there. One wall is composed of recessed squares, and inside each square rests a single shoe, each with its own tiny spotlight. There are black-and-white photographs on the other walls, head or body shots of fashion icons of the past. Soft classical music is playing, and the air smells expensive and elegant.

  Tolyan sweeps the area with his eyes. Two leggy, fashionably dressed women standing by the register desk fidget a bit when his gaze lands on them. I don’t blame them. He is gorgeous, and radiates a kind of danger that makes your heart beat faster and calls to you.

  He looks past them, like he doesn’t notice their reaction. But I know him well enough now to understand he misses nothing.

  For some weird reason, his cool dismissal puts a spring in my step.

  A tall blonde woman walks out. A gorgeous red dress wraps around her slim body, cinched with a thin silver belt. Something about the way she holds herself and moves says, “Europe.”

  “Elizabeth, so good to see you,” she says in a dulcet voice. Sure enough, there’s an accent. “I was thrilled when I got your call.”

  “Oh, it’s my pleasure. You know how much I love to shop.”

  “I do.” They exchange quick air kisses, then the blonde woman pulls back. “I have a bottle of the best vodka for you. A client from Russia brought it, but you know I don’t do vodka.”

  “Then of course I’ll have some. But no more than a glass. I’m driving.”

  “You can take the bottle with you.” She turns my way, her dark eyes doing a quick, sweeping assessment as I stand awkwardly. Surprise flashes as she sizes me up like merchandise. But almost immediately, a friendly, professional mask settles over her face. “Hello. My name is Monique,” she says, giving me a charming smile.

  “Hi. Angelika.” I’m the worst dresser in the group by far, and I don’t want to do anything to embarrass Tolyan or Elizabeth. “Nice to meet you.”

  “The pleasure is entirely mine. So, shall we get started? It looks as though we have a lot of territory to cover.”

  “We sure do,” Elizabeth says.

  Monique turns to one of the assistants. “Make Tolyan comfortable. This is going to take a while.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Angelika

  Monique and Elizabeth whisk me down a hall into a huge, airy room with mirrors everywhere. There are two love seats. Tolyan takes the one in the corner and starts tapping on his tablet. Elizabeth takes the one in the center and sits down, her legs crossed. I debate between the two, then decide I should probably join her, since Tolyan’s busy with his gadget.

  Before I can take a step toward Elizabeth, Monique pulls me toward her gently and looks me over, much more thoroughly this time. I look up at the ceiling, hating that I’m being inspected. I wish I were in something nicer, except I don’t have anything nicer. At least I’m not naked or anything, although Monique’s gaze has the power to make me feel more naked than a mannequin.

  She then turns to her assistants and tells them my sizes, including my bra.

  I put up a hand. “Wait! That’s not right.”

  The assistants stop.

  Monique gives me a wide-eyed look, like I just told her we’re in the middle of Texas. “What do you mean, not right?”

  “You can’t just eye my breasts for a bra sizing,” I point out. “Mine’s different from what you said.”

  Monique gives me a pitying look. “Somebody did you an injustice, honey. They measured you wrong. I bet what you’re wearing isn’t all that comfortable.”

  “Well…yeah… But…” I thought it was because I bought cheap bras, not because the sizing’s wrong.

  “If you have correctly fitted bras that are well constructed, they’ll be very comfortable.”

  Elizabeth nods vigorously. I glance over, but Tolyan’s attention is solely on whatever’s on his tablet.

  “We simply do not have uncomfortable bras,” Monique says with a confident smile. “As a matter of fact, we do not have anything uncomfortable as long as we stick with one the right size and fit. Trust me, Angelika. I’m the fashion fairy godmother everyone wishes they had. When I’m through with you, you’re going to be gorgeous and comfortable. And men”—she casts a knowing glance in Tolyan’s direction—“will fall over themselves for a chance to chat with you.”

  I flush at the picture she’s drawing. It sounds like a dream to have something that looks so pretty and comfy. Of course, Tolyan doesn’t seem to care if what I’m going to end up buying is pretty or comfy, since he’s focused on his tablet.

  Still, I like what Monique’s saying. I inhale deeply, ready to put myself at her mercy.

  “Let’s bring out the refreshments,” she says. “This is supposed to be fun and relaxing.”

  “Exactly,” Elizabeth agrees, then looks at me. “Is a mimosa good, or would you like something else?”

  “A mimosa would be fine. Thank you,” I say. I’m not that picky about drinks. I don’t drink much to begin with—alcohol is one of those things I don’t want to spend money on.

  Monique turns to her assistants. “You heard them. Let’s have something tasty. And bring out everything in the size I specified.”

  While her assistants push out four racks, heavy with clothes, two silver trays appear. A glass of vodka for Tolyan—I know better than to think it’s just water—and another for Elizabeth, plus a mimosa. Tolyan’s tray has berry and peach tarts and a chocolate and strawberry parfait. Ours has bowls of fresh fruit with some kind of white goo poured on top.

  I point. “What’s that?” I whisper at Elizabeth, hoping it’s white chocolate, since Tolyan’s getting his parfait.

  “Yogurt sweetened with honey. You aren’t allergic, are you?”

  I shake my head, then glance over at Tolyan’s options. His are far superior to ours.
Probably because the entrance ladies really like him.

  Monique starts out with tops and pants and skirts. She takes me to the dressing room and asks me to change into them. “Come out after each outfit. And make sure to put on the right shoes.” She lays out twenty sets, already coordinated.

  And they look fabulous, the colors and style all elegant and fashionable. None look overly trendy, for which I’m grateful. They’re all classic, something I can wear for years if I want.

  “You want me to try them all?” I say, half overwhelmed and half excited. Actually, based on the flutter in my belly, more than half.

  “No other way to see how they look on you. Not that any of them will look bad, but it’s always fun to have people go ooh and aah as you try on new clothes. We’re doing your underwear later, and for that you don’t have to strut in front of us. Unless you want to, of course.”

  “Ah, no, thank you.”

  “I thought not.” Monique smiles. “Here. My assistants will help if you need it. Just call out.”

  I nod then slip into a huge dressing room and change into the first set—a gorgeous cream-colored top and a magenta skirt with a flirty flare that shows off my long legs. It’ll be perfect for a casual night out or day in an office. The material’s so, so soft, like a cloud spun into clothes. And—as promised—the fit is perfect.

  I stand in front of the huge mirror. Wow. I can’t believe how different I look, just by putting on the new clothes Monique picked out. Without the drab outfit, I look my age—maybe even younger. My clothes used to just hang on me, but these hug and showcase my body. I’m suddenly extra glad I’ve put in all the time jogging.

  This must be how people with money shop…and how they dress. No wonder Tolyan looked at my outfit and disapproved.

  I slip my feet into the nude slingbacks one of the assistants slipped into the dressing room. My God. I look even better!

  “You ready?” Elizabeth calls out, her voice bubbly. “I’m dying to see how you look!”

  “Coming!” I say, my belly fluttering.

  I walk out, a smile on my face.

  Monique is wearing a “God, I’m a genius” expression. Elizabeth gives me two thumbs up.

  “Just stunning,” she says. “My lord! You look freakin’ amazing. Look how long and slim your legs are!”

  I flush as pleasant warmth spreads over me. I steal a glance at Tolyan, but he’s still tapping on his tablet.

  Hmm. I thought he’d look up. After all, he’s the one who got me here. Isn’t he even the tiniest bit curious about how I look?

  Or maybe it doesn’t matter because this is about getting me out of my crummy old clothes. And, I remember ruefully, he’s already been there, done that.

  Regardless, I don’t like it that whatever’s on the tablet is so fascinating he can’t even spare a glance in my direction. I start to clear my throat, but then think better of the idea. I’m being ridiculous. It isn’t like he owes me any attention. He’s already doing so much by promising to deal with Roy for me. The excitement I felt flattens, but I shake it off, or do my best to. I’m going to enjoy this experience even if Tolyan won’t cooperate.

  I try on the rest of the stuff Monique picked out. I honestly can’t complain about her taste, because she’s done better than I ever could. The color combinations alone are dazzling.

  “You can pair these slacks with the top you tried on before with the dark purple skirt and get a new look,” Monique says, tapping her chin with a well-manicured finger.

  “You think?” I look down at the slim pants.

  “Yes. The color combo is going to look fantastic, especially in late spring and summer. The biggest part of managing your wardrobe is knowing how to mix things to create a complete new look.”

  “Totally,” Elizabeth agrees. “I take notes when I shop.”

  Monique laughs, rolling her eyes. “You’re so silly.”

  I laugh too at the joke Elizabeth made. I probably can’t afford to buy all the things Monique laid out. But I can ask her to help me pick out a few versatile items that will create the most “new looks” together.

  After I finish the first batch, Elizabeth gestures at me to sit with her. “We need a break.”

  I smile, as I realize she must’ve noticed I’m getting a little tired. As exciting as it is to try on all those pretty things, I want to sit down for a bit.

  “Let’s get you another mimosa,” Monique says.

  An assistant brings out a fresh flute. The mix of orange juice and the bubbly wine is refreshing, and I’m thirsty. Besides, I’m not going to say no to a free drink, especially when it tastes good and I can pace myself—although I make a mental note to ask for OJ next time. I’m not used to alcohol, and I can already feel the effects at a mild level. I don’t want to get drunk and embarrass myself.

  Tolyan gestures at the assistant as she’s leaving. She trots over to him fast, then he whispers something. She nods and picks up his tray.

  He doesn’t want the tarts? I lick my lips. They look so good. Bet somebody in the back is going to eat them. I would if I were them.

  She brings the tray over and places it on the small table in front of me, then walks away.

  Elizabeth gives me a meaningful look as she picks up a small plate of berry tart and hands it to me with a fork. “Wow.”

  “What?” I say, taking the tart. She’s acting like it’s a marriage proposal.

  “I’ve never seen Tolyan feed a woman before,” she says in a low voice, leaning closer.

  “You said you’ve never seen him with a woman period.” But I check Tolyan out surreptitiously. Does he hear us talking? If so, he’s not showing it.

  “Yeah, but he doesn’t… He isn’t exactly the nurturing type.”

  “Well, he’s fed me. A lot.” Two dinners and a breakfast in two days. And they were all excellent. I take a bite of the tart and almost moan as the sweet fruit flavor bursts in my mouth. Ah-mazing!

  Elizabeth gives me a slightly bemused look. “Like I said, I’ve known him for over ten years. I would’ve noticed.” She leans even closer. “Have you considered the idea that maybe it’s you?”

  “Me?” What does she mean, me? I didn’t do anything, except very badly attempt to blackmail him and fail. Not that I’m going to share that little detail with her.

  She nods. “I think so.” Her eyes sparkle. “You’re the special one.”

  I start to laugh. Surely she’s kidding. “I’m just an ordinary girl. The country’s full of young high-school-grad baristas with brown hair and brown eyes.”

  “You must be color-blind to think your hair and eyes are just ‘brown.’”

  “But they are,” I say. It’s obvious she’s intrigued that Tolyan’s doing something she hasn’t seen him do, but I don’t want her to assume we’re dating or that he has feelings for me, especially when she doesn’t have all the facts and I can’t fill in the blanks for her.

  She gives me an amused look. “They’re nothing so boring, I promise. And if you were merely ordinary, Tolyan would’ve never asked me to shop with you.”

  “But…”

  She raises a hand. “I know, I know. You’re shy about revealing details. You’re as secretive as he is. It’s fine. I’ll save my digging for later, when you feel more comfortable.”

  We could be close enough to go naked together in a locker room and I still wouldn’t reveal anything—but I keep that to myself. “So,” I say in a normally loud voice, “are we done shopping?” I put the last bite of the tart into my mouth and reach for the parfait. It’s chocolate and strawberries. It’s going to be so yummy.

  “No. We have to get you some evening wear,” Monique says.

  I swallow the spoonful of parfait in my mouth. “For what? I don’t exactly have any balls or galas on my social calendar.”

  “Every woman needs at least one classic cocktail dress and an evening gown,” Elizabeth says.

  “She’s right.” Monique nods. “It’s always a hassle to shop in a hurry
when you need something formal.”

  “Which is why I pre-buy them,” Elizabeth says.

  “Which is why you stand out, no matter where you are,” Monique says. “I saw the pictures from last week’s event and just sighed. You looked like a queen.”

  “Well, I did marry a King.” Elizabeth winks. “Now, let’s start with lingerie.” She raises her hand to block Tolyan’s view of her mouth. “Sexy vixen, you know what I mean?”

  I squirm, unable to decide between shock and excitement. It’s been so long since I bought pretty underwear. It’s going to be so expensive, but for once, I’m optimistic about my future, and I want to splurge—just a little.

  “A couple of sets,” I say quietly.

  “Nobody gets just a couple of sets,” Monique says with a friendly eye roll. “Come on.”

  I glance at Tolyan. He might’ve heard us say lingerie and his interest could’ve piqued.

  But nope. Still focused on the tablet. Maybe it’s giving him clues as to where he can find a bunker full of gold. I don’t know what else could be so enrapturing.

  My mood deflates. I walk into the dressing room with a couple of clerks who bring out a huge collection of satin and lace underthings in every color and design. I look them over, but they don’t perk me up. Why? I was excited just moments ago…

  Oh. My. God.

  Am I disappointed that Tolyan isn’t reacting to my trying out lingerie? I mean… It isn’t like I was planning on coming out in nothing but a bra and panties and strutting around. But maybe I expected something from him. A sign of curiosity. Or even speculation.

  Tolyan’s a gentleman, Angelika. You asked for a non-rotten lemon, and now you’re feeling let down that he isn’t a pervert!

  Well, yeah. But when you start to like a guy, he no longer becomes a creepy perv. He becomes a…nice perv. And I think I like Tolyan. A lot.

  And I have no idea what I’m going to do about this unexpected development.