London Dynasty (The Dynasties #1) - Geneva Lee Page 0,15

Of course she hadn’t. She’d probably never checked the sales rack at Zara or worn a hand-me-down like the dress I’d been considering, a gift from Eliza.

“This way,” he said impatiently.

I barely had time to process the bedroom he led me through, complete with a sumptuous four-poster bed and too many pillows to count before I found myself in an octagonal room. Mirrors lined every wall and it was empty save for a pin-tucked stool and fur rug in the center of the room. Giles walked up to a mirror and waved a hand over it. Instantly, a crack appeared in the glass and it opened to reveal rows and rows of shoes.

Glossy, patent-leather black shoes. Prim, round-toed suede heels. Sky-high, strappy sandals. There had to be over one hundred pairs of shoes, all neatly lined up on shelves, waiting for their owner to return.

“The first rule to passing as Kerrigan,” Giles said, “is looking like her. She always chooses her shoes first and then creates her outfit around it.”

He said this like she crafted a work of art. I shook my head. “I don’t really wear heels.”

“You do now,” he said dismissively. “Pick a pair.”

“That’s it?” I asked. “Then what?”

“I will help you pick an outfit that Kerrigan would put together.”

“Did she always have you do this?” I asked, trying to buy myself time. I had no idea which shoes Kerrigan would pick or what was appropriate for a lunch date with my twenty-six-year-old stepmother. It felt like a test, and I was going to fail.

“Rarely. Kerrigan had impeccable taste,” he said. “She didn’t require me to dress her.”

“Had?”

“Has,” he corrected himself.

“I don’t want her to be angry when she comes back. What if I break a heel?” Or my ankle?

This earned me an eye roll that was neither inconspicuous nor good-humored. It was clear that while Giles might know Kerrigan well enough to help me, he wasn’t thrilled at the prospect. “She’ll buy new shoes. Just pick.”

I ran a finger along the shelf, stopping on a pair of relatively stable-looking wedges. They weren’t nearly as sexy as most of the others, but they had the benefit of a bit of a platform. Most of Kerrigan’s other shoes could be used as murder weapons. Still, the white leather straps were thin and delicate and the platform would easily push me five inches off solid ground. Before I could look for something less tall, Giles noticed my pause and seized them.

“These will be fine.”

I stepped back and watched as he opened more doors hidden within the mirrored walls, picking hangers with practiced ease. He stopped and arched an eyebrow.

“Are you going to change or…”

“Oh, um.” I shifted uncomfortably.

“Kerrigan is very comfortable with her body,” he advised.

“And if I’m not?” I asked defensively.

He resumed pillaging the closet, talking over his shoulder. “I would suggest you become comfortable. There’s a party tomorrow night. Spencer will be there. I expect things will progress rapidly.”

Apparently, Giles was going to force me to read between the lines. Except that I needed more than that from him. “Look, you don’t have to treat me like I’m her, but I’m not an idiot either. Just tell me what you’re trying to say.”

“Alright.” He stopped and turned to face me, clutching something lacy. “If you can’t get naked around me, how do you plan to do so around Spencer?”

“I—I—” I’d pushed him to be honest, but now I wished I hadn’t. The surreality of my situation was wearing off quickly, and in its place was a rather harsh reality. I’d agreed to act as Kerrigan. I’d known I would be expected to sleep with Spencer. I suppose I’d imagined a lights-off, under-the-sheets experience. “You’re right,” I admitted finally. “I guess this is a lot to digest. Thank you for being honest with me. It’s nice to have an anchor in the storm.”

For the first time, Giles smiled. Stretching out one hand, he offered me the lingerie he’d gathered. My outfit was draped over his other arm, which held onto the shoes that had inspired his choices. “This is a rather unusual predicament. I promise to help you navigate it as Kerrigan would.”

“And she would already be down to her birthday suit?” I guessed.

“If it makes you feel better, I’ve seen her naked a thousand times. It’s hardly anything exciting.”

“Am I terrible if that makes me feel better and worse?” I asked him.

“Not at all.”

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, remembering what Eliza had said. This