The Price of Scandal (Bluewater Billionaires) - Lucy Score Page 0,30

one off, too,” Emily said, leaning in.

“How does it look?” Nina asked, trying not to move her lips.

The crowd in the room laughed gently, and the photographer danced his way in and out, capturing reactions.

“It looks good,” Emily said. “Very good.”

“Good how? Good like I won’t need to spackle six layers of pore eraser on every day?”

Emily signaled to the back of the room, and Nina’s before pictures appeared on the screens behind them.

“Goodbye to foundation good,” Emily said, handing the girl a compact mirror.

“Holy shit,” Nina gasped. The room rumbled with laughter again as the occupants craned for a better look.

“Let me just take these quickly,” Emily said, snapping a photo of each side of Nina’s face. Moments later, the new images appeared on the screens side-by-side with the before angles.

The difference was nothing short of remarkable. Nina’s red labyrinth of scarring had become healthy pink like she was fresh from a facial. Even the ice-pick-like scars were more even as if the skin had miraculously resurfaced itself.

“Holy shit,” she said again, looking at the photos. “I can’t believe it!”

She surprised Emily with a bouncy hug, and Emily’s laugh was buoyant. My fingers itched to capture the moment.

“Come on, guys. Me next,” Dewayne insisted.

The nurse slid her wheeled stool in front of him and went to work on the bandage on his knee.

“Come on, big money,” Dewayne muttered like a mantra.

The nurse’s self-satisfied smile gave it away. Emily punched her fist into the air, one moment of unadulterated satisfaction. This was her three-pointer. Her game-winning buzzer beater.

Dewayne’s dark skin was glossy with residue where the bandage had been. The jagged surgical scar had been reduced, smoothed. The discoloration evened. It wasn’t perfect, but it was very damn good.

Dewayne jumped out of his chair and did a little boogie, pulling Emily into it. She laughed, light and easy. The joy of accomplishment flushing her cheeks.

Nina was busy snapping selfies, and Dewayne insisted on getting in on the action. I made a note to find and follow their social media accounts.

Mallory, meanwhile, sat with her jaw tight, staring at the floor in front of her.

“Mallory,” Emily said softly. “It’s your turn.”

“I’m afraid to hope,” she confessed in a voice barely above a whisper, and my heart broke into pieces for her. The damage humans could inflict on one another remained an awful mystery.

Emily sank down in front of her. “You are seven years out of a relationship that could have killed you. You got your master’s degree and landed the job you always wanted. You put your kids through private school. And you make damn fine pottery on the weekends. Scars or not, you are hope.”

I felt my throat tighten uncomfortably when Mallory linked her fingers through Emily’s. She nodded. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

The nurse worked slowly and carefully. I could feel the room behind me holding its breath. Tension grew. Anticipation. Hope.

“Oh, my,” the nurse said, dropping her professionalism. “This looks very good, Mallory.”

“Really?”

Emily couldn’t contain herself and leaned in.

Reaching behind her, she held out a hand. A psychic lab tech handed over the camera.

“Mallory?” Emily said as she snapped a picture.

It popped up on the screens, and everyone in the room inhaled sharply.

“Yes,” she whispered. Her eyes were squeezed shut.

“Open your eyes.”

The nurse held up the hand mirror, and Mallory opened her very lovely green eyes. They widened with shock.

The scar had been an ivory path carved from jawline to nose, splintering under the eye in a spiderweb of trauma. Now it was… smaller, thinner, smoother. Some of the threadlike splinters had vanished completely.

“This is after one week, Mallory. Imagine what three weeks will look like,” Emily said as the woman before her took a shaky breath.

Mallory turned to look at the pictures. She was nodding slowly, slowly. And there was a small, tender smile playing at the corners of her unpainted mouth. Acknowledging a new reality, a new future, that Emily had given her.

Yes. There were some members of the human race who made it their duty to tear others down, tried to destroy them. And then there were the Emily Stantons of the world. Ones who cared and fixed and tried to make things better.

Was that sweat stinging my eyes?

I glanced around. It appeared that everyone had sweaty eyes. Or allergies. People were blowing their noses while others wiped their faces with their sleeves.

Mallory was hugging Emily now. A hard, tight embrace more powerful than any words of thanks.

My client was a motherfucking genius, and if she