The Secrets We Hide (The Four #2) - Becca Steele Page 0,26

currently standing in the bedroom I’d been allocated in the Cavendish home, being scrutinised by Renée, the stylist hired by my mother to prepare me. Clearly, she wasn’t taking any chances with me choosing anything inappropriate. Somewhere in the house, she was being attended to by a whole team of people, but thankfully she’d deemed that one person was enough for me.

“I have a few different dresses that could work,” Renée mused, tapping her lip in thought. Reaching into the bag at her waist, she pulled out a phone. “Allan, please could you have the garment bags numbered four, seven, and sixteen brought up to Miss Huntington’s room? Thank you.” Replacing the phone, she turned to me. “Please could you remove your clothing, other than your underwear?”

“Um. Okay.” I padded into the bathroom and stripped off, pulling on a robe over my underwear. By the time I’d finished and re-entered the bedroom, there were three garment bags laid across the bed.

“Let’s try the first outfit.” Renée carefully unzipped one of the bags, revealing a long, shimmering grey dress. I shrugged out of my robe, and she helped me into the dress, smoothing the silky material down, then stepping back to run a critical eye over me. “Turn around, please.”

I obediently spun around, and she pursed her lips. “I don’t think this one is quite right for you. Let’s move on to the next one.”

As she unzipped the next bag, withdrawing a bundle of black tulle, my heart started beating faster. The fabric slid over my body, slipping into place effortlessly.

Renée clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes shining, and she pointed towards the mirror.

“Oh.” I stared at my reflection. Was this really me? “This dress is perfect,” I whispered, as Renée came to stand next to me, fluffing out the skirt.

“Perfect for you. Not everyone can pull off the black, but for you? It works beautifully.” She smiled. “No need to try the other dress. This is the one.”

I nodded in agreement, still staring. The dress was a black, floor-length ball gown. The bodice was sheer lace overlaid with black applique embellishments which covered my breasts and connected with the skirt, with tiny gems interlaid in the fabric. The skirt itself was made of layers of tulle, flowing down from my waist and skimming the floor, with a small train at the back.

“With the hair and make-up, and the mask, you’ll be a vision. Hurry, we don’t have long.”

The doorman gave a small bow as I passed between the huge stone columns and entered Alstone Town Hall. My mother and Arlo had headed inside already, but I’d taken a moment to compose myself, needing to prepare to face what waited for me inside. Namely Caiden, with Jessa. There was no doubt that she’d be all over him, and no matter what, I couldn’t make a scene or let her know how she affected me.

I glanced at myself in the large mirror that hung in the entrance foyer, adjusting my mask. My hair had been curled, falling in waves down my back, and underneath the crystal-studded black lace mask I wore, my eyes were rimmed in smoky shadow. My lips were slicked with a simple, natural lip colour, and my skin had been lightly dusted with a shimmery powder. I wore no jewellery, the mask and the dress making enough of a statement on their own.

Taking a deep breath, I walked down the corridor to the doors that would lead me into the ballroom.

“Would you like to wait for your escort, madam?” I turned, my hand already reaching out for the door, to see a uniformed man eyeing me, a polite smile on his face.

“Um. I’m meeting him inside.” I’d sent Cassius a message just before we’d left the car, then strapped my phone to my thigh with the ingenious garter purse Renée had given me. Earlier, he’d sent me a photo of the mask he was going to be wearing—black, metallic, Roman warrior style, with gold embellishments showing two Pegasus horses, and a skull with crystal eyes in the centre. All of the Four, in fact, would wear the same masks, but I knew I wouldn’t have any trouble spotting them, regardless.

The uniformed man nodded, opening the door with a gloved hand.

I stepped inside.

I was standing at the top of a huge, sweeping staircase, descending down to the darkened ballroom below, illuminated by soft spotlights that bathed the room in shades of blue and purple. Balconies ran down each