Love Undercover - Miley Maine Page 0,4

with pictures, and keep me updated! I want every single detail.”

We said goodbye, and with one last look in the mirror, I went to find Mrs. Laurent.

For an hour, I sat in Mrs. Laurent’s opulent bathroom while her stylist blow-dried my hair and curled it into loose waves. Next, she applied makeup. I wasn’t even sure what most of the makeup was called. My sister tried to get me to watch an online tutorial once, but I didn’t have the patience.

Sitting in Mrs. Laurent’s personal bathroom was a little awkward, especially because she hovered nearby the entire time, commenting as the stylist worked. Maybe I was like a doll to her. I wondered what the previous nanny had been like. Gabriel was ten months old, and I’d only been here for a month. I could tell from watching her with him that she probably had a nanny ready to go the minute he was born.

She was a sweet enough mom, and she played with him and snuggled him for several hours a day. She just didn’t do any of the gross stuff, like changing diapers or wiping up the spit, or even feeding him the homemade baby food that the chef made. She also liked dressing him up in cute little outfits. Her favorite was a white top with buttons and a collar and navy shorts. It didn’t look fun for a baby to wear, but he did look adorable in it.

The stylist stepped back and Mrs. Laurent stepped forward. She leaned in close and touched my face. “Kate, you are stunning. See for yourself.” She and the stylists moved away. When I saw myself, I blinked. My hair was shiny. My skin was glowing. I looked more like Mrs. Laurent than myself.

“You have great cheekbones,” the stylist said in Spanish. My eyes looked bigger, and my lashes longer, and my lips fuller.

“Do you like it?” Mrs. Laurent asked.

“Yes,” I said. And I did. I was going to try to follow my little sister’s advice and live a little. I lifted my chin and smiled at my reflection. I pulled my spine up straighter, just like I did at my internship when I was facing a group of rowdy kids. “Actually, I love it.”

The stylist beamed, and Mrs. Laurent did that reserved half-smile that came out every now and then.

Chapter Three

Owen

“Sir, we’re here,” the driver said as we pulled through the gated entrance to Laurent’s villa.

I tugged at my bowtie. “You don’t have to call me Sir,” I told the driver, but he only smiled, because he was used to being around Mr. Laurent and his band of assholes.

Damn rich bastards. They wanted everyone around them to bow and scrape. I’d had plenty of time doing it, and I didn’t mind because it was part of the job which I knew was only for a short time. For this guy, it was the rest of his life.

I needed a break from work because everything was pissing me off. Maybe the food and wine at this dinner would be a good enough distraction from the greedy bastards I’d dealt with all day.

The driver came around and opened the door for me. I knew better than to protest that. I thanked him and stepped into the driveway.

This was definitely a mansion; it had to be worth at least three or four million. The house was huge, and had a slightly modern look to it, with a cream stucco and columns, floor-to-ceiling windows, and bright green grass.

At the door, I was greeted by a butler. Of course. He led me through a flashy-looking foyer and into another room, a room that definitely wasn’t the dining room, because there was no food. There was, however, a bar. I headed immediately to the table where another employee was mixing drinks.

“What can I get for you, Sir?” he asked.

“Scotch, straight.”

He nodded, picked up a bottle, and handed it over.

“Wow,” I said.

“It is Macallan.”

I didn’t know how much that cost, and I didn’t want to find out. At this moment, I was just going to enjoy the perks of blending in with scum like Laurent.

Other people filed into the room, which I heard referred to as a drawing room. I hung back near the bar and sipped my scotch. I still hadn’t seen Laurent; maybe he was waiting to make a grand entrance. From the other room, an actual person was playing live music on a freaking harp.

More people came in, until there were about twelve of