A Dangerous Widow (A Dangerous Series) by Christina Ross Page B

up for all of us to see,
Blackwell stood from her chair and went over to it.  
    “It’s sublime,” she said.   “A floral, short-sleeve tulle gown with
floral appliqués.   Round neckline,
which will flatter Kate’s long neck.   Short flutter sleeves, which will enhance her toned arms.   And a pleated lace skirt, which will
give balance to her boobs.   It’s
divoon.   And look at how daring it
is, Kate,” she said to me.   “The top
appears to be nude, but the colorful appliqués will conceal what they’re meant
to conceal—your nipples.   You
must try it on.   I insist.   Tout-de-suite ! ”
    When I did, it was a done deal.
    “It’s amazing,” Jennifer said.
    “Do you think?”
    “I do.”
    “Well, the dress is amazing, but not her
hair,” Blackwell said.   “Although I
have that covered now.   While you
were dressing, Bernie texted me.   He’ll come to your apartment tomorrow afternoon at five-thirty.   Jennifer, what do you say about having
your hair and makeup done with Kate?   Then, we can just go to Wenn and dress you there before Alex and you
leave for your own evening of corruption.”
    “I’m game,” Jennifer said.   “Kate?”
    “Are you serious?   I’m just grateful for each of you.   And also for you, Chloe.   Because you did this.”   I turned
in front of the mirror and, for the first time in years, I felt feminine and
weirdly glamorous.  
    “I think it fits,” Chloe said as she walked
around me.   “What do you think,
Barbara?”
    “The same.   And who the hell knew?   Clearly, Valentino must have had you in
mind when he made that gown, Kate, because you’re owning it right now.   And good for you, darling.   Tomorrow night, you will shine.”   She shot me a look.   “This mysterious man you’re attending
Maxine’s party with tomorrow night…You said you dated him in high
school—did you go to prom with him?”
    “I did.”
    “Well, then.   Good luck to him when he sees you
looking like that, because that, my dear, is worth every penny of the forty
thousand dollars you’re about to spend on it.   Now, if we can wrest Jennifer away from
her glass of champagne, which she’s clinging to like she’ll never taste a
distilled grape again, we can go and find shoes.”
    “And Spanx,” I said.
    Her gaze swept over me.   “Is that even a question?   Please.”

 
 
 
 
    CHAPTER TEN

 
    The following evening, after Bernie,
Blackwell, and Jennifer left my apartment so Jennifer could get dressed for her
own event, I went into my bedroom and stood in front of my dressing mirror,
completely in disbelief of how they had somehow turned me into a woman that I
didn’t recognize.
    What will Ben think when
he sees me looking like this? I thought.   Will
he even recognize me?
    It was doubtful, because he’d certainly
never seen me looking like this, so I had to wonder.   Bernie, who I loved at once for his
quick wit and gentle demeanor, had not only given me a fresh cut and color, but
had also deftly attended to my face in ways that made it glow.  
    My skin looked preternaturally
young—he and Blackwell had convinced me to go for a bold red lip and to
wear a pair of mink eyelashes, which were so dramatic, I thought that they had
turned me into a siren.  
    My hair, which I usually wore straight down
my back or in a low ponytail, now had highlights in it that I had to admit were
flattering.   Bernie had used a
curling iron to give my hair volume, and then he’d made me lean forward so he
could rustle his fingers through it until it became what Jennifer exclaimed was
“the coveted freshly fucked look—but in the best way!”  
    Whatever the case, it had worked.
    Who am I? I wondered as I looked at myself.   Is this even
me?   I haven’t looked like this
since Lucas attended to me.   And
even he hadn’t achieved anything close to this.
    Ever since Michael’s death, I’d become
increasingly conservative with the clothes I chose, the