The Boss (Chateau #3) - Penelope Sky Page 0,34

he departed.

“Gilbert?”

He turned back around, his hands behind his back, standing tall, straight, and proud. His nose was slightly upturned, like I was still beneath him even though he was the butler. “Yes, Melanie?”

“I’d like to see Fender.” We’d arrived that morning, and I hadn’t heard from him. I imagined he had been served the exact same dinner just minutes before mine.

“Absolutely not.” He shook his head. “He’s very busy with work. Can’t be disturbed.”

I felt like I was still in the camp, only able to see him when he wanted to see me. “Could you tell him I’d like to see him?”

“I can pass along the message, but as I said, he’s very busy. You can expect to hear from him tomorrow.” He gave a slight bow before he took his leave. “Place your tray outside the door when you’re finished.”

He departed and left me alone.

I was in a palace now, surrounded by luxury and gourmet food, but it felt the same as the camp.

Like nothing had changed except the one thing I didn’t want to change.

Seeing my sister.

The next morning, I had barely finished my breakfast when Gilbert stepped through the open door. “Put everything in the closet. Makeup in the bathroom.”

I left the living room to see what the commotion was.

A dozen people, all finely dressed, entered my bedroom, carrying designer clothes and heels, placing them in my empty walk-in closet. Another group of people entered my bathroom, setting up makeup stations and an array of skin care products.

One woman walked up to me, carrying a couple makeup brushes in her hands. Her eyes absorbed my face, like she was dolling me up without even touching me. “Let’s take a seat. I’m going to teach you how to do your makeup.”

“Oh…I already know how—”

“No, she doesn’t,” Gilbert interjected. “Please show her.”

I was placed in the chair in front of my vanity in the bathroom while the makeup artist placed all of her supplies in front of her. “Always put a primer on your skin. It’s sunscreen, and the number one enemy of your skin is sun exposure.” She talked me through everything, from concealer and then powder, the brushes to use when blending eye shadow, how to create the perfect lip liner around the mouth to give my lips a fuller appearance. It took her an hour to explain everything to me, to go through each step.

I recognized all the brands of makeup on my vanity, all items I could never afford in a million years. I used to get my makeup at any walk-in retailer because I didn’t wear a ton of it in the first place. Now I was getting a personal tutorial from a woman who knew what she was doing, judging by how beautiful she looked.

Another girl did my hair, curling my strands into spirals before brushing it out, adding more product to give it that bounce and shine. Over the course of an hour, my appearance was transformed until I could barely recognize myself. I’d been looking at my plain face at the camp for so long, my eyes washed out without eyeliner or mascara, my lips blending into my cheeks because they were cold and lifeless.

“What do you think?” She smiled at me in the mirror, like she knew she’d created a masterpiece.

“I…I barely recognize myself.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Gilbert said as he walked by, holding a pink dress in his hands.

“But yeah, it’s lovely.” I’d never felt prettier, never felt cleaner, never felt…more privileged. I looked like those models on social media, on the cover of magazines at doctor’s offices. People had always said I was the pretty sister, but I never saw the difference between us the way other people did. But with my makeup like this, I really did look far more beautiful than I ever had.

“Put this on.” Gilbert held up the dress behind me.

“Am I going somewhere?” That looked like a dress for a special occasion.

Gilbert’s eyes narrowed as if I’d said the wrong thing. “A lady is always dressed to go somewhere, even if she has nowhere to go. Now, up.”

I left the chair and moved to the center of the bathroom. “Can I get dressed alone this time?”

“Yes. But we want to see.” Gilbert waved everyone to the door. “Everyone out.”

They filed out, and I shed Fender’s clothes before I put on the pink dress. It had subtle designs inside the material, indistinct florals that gave the dress texture but not an obvious pattern. It