Chapter Six
Oz was a red herring. Oh sure, they groomed him to within an inch of his immortal life. They'd trimmed his beard and cut his hair, although they kept it long at both mine and Oz's insistence. Now it sat to his shoulders in long, lazy waves. He looked practically edible now but let's face it, he was hardly a lost cause to start with.
Oh, the real lost cause was me apparently. The guys had gone out, buying me spa treatment after spa treatment until I walked out of the day spa on wobbly legs, totally relaxed and buffed until I shone like a lighthouse in the sun. They then chauffeured me to a salon, in Tolliver's state of the art Range Rover. The guy had some serious cash. The underground parking at the apartment building was filled with luxury cars, bikes, and speedboats.
“Did you make all your money modelling?” I asked. He shook his head.
“No, I made all my money by flipping companies. The modelling I do because Sam needs a pair, and it was easier if we were both in the same industry. Plus, I own the agency we are signed to, and we have quite a few top models on the books. Big names. Not that anyone knows that. It's all run under my umbrella corporation.”
I wondered how he ended up in hell, and then here, forever immortalized as Greed personified. I was burning with curiosity, but other than Valery, none of the guys had been very forthcoming about their life before the redemption deal. I didn't really want to ask. On a scale of one to ten in awkwardness, asking someone how they got damned to hell was probably a twelve.
We pulled up to a warehouse, its windows tinted, a roller door padlocked shut. In all honesty, it looked like a chop shop for stolen cars.
“Is this the part where you guys kidnap me and sell me to the Yugoslavian mob, because this doesn't look like a salon?”
Oz patted my hand from the seat beside me. “I wouldn't let them sell you to the Yugoslavians. The Russians pay better.”
Sam rolled his eyes and turned in his seat. “Seriously, Oz. That's not reassuring. This is a pop up salon. Only those on The List get coordinates. It's a hipster thing. But the stylists are some of the best in the city.”
“Is this really necessary? I'm happy with the spa treatments. You guys have spent enough.”
Tolliver got out and walked around to open my door.
“If you get in there and don't want anything more than a manicure, that is okay with us. You are beautiful without all this stuff. If you get in there and decide you want to walk out looking like Jessica Rabbit, we can do that too. We didn't end up in hell by being shining examples of human generosity, so please let us show our affection in the best way we know how.”
How could a man, who knew some of the most gorgeous women on the planet, think I was beautiful? Compared to their peers, I was a gnome. I was having such a hard time reconciling the fact that not only did they think I was beautiful, but they wanted me on a deeper, physical level and I found it intimidating.
I mean, I wasn't an ugly duckling, I guess. My clothes came from a thrift shop, but my slight hourglass figure meant most styles sat well on me. My eyes were a little too big for my face, and my short blonde hair made me look like a little like an elf, something that was exasperated by my short stature. The overall package was waifish, but not unattractive. Well that's what Clary says anyway, but her style is somewhere between Janis Joplin and Charlie Chaplin.
I could see myself with Oz, or even Lux, because they were perfectly imperfect. I'd be still batting way above my average, but it wouldn't make people stop and stare in the street like it did when I walked to the car between Sam and Tolliver. Even Eli, Valery and Orion were way out of my league, but it would still be within the realms of possibility. But Sam and Tolliver? Strap me in a space suit because they were so far out of my league we weren't even in the same solar system any more.
Sam walked around to stand beside Tolliver.
“Hmm.” He nudged Tolliver out of the way, lifted me out of one car like I weighed nothing, shut the door and pressed me against it.
Then he kissed me. Holy crap, did he kiss me.
One arm around my waist holding me hard against his body, the other tangled tightly in my hair as his tongue stroked mine. The kiss deepened as his hips nudged against mine, his hand sliding down my side until he wrapped a hand around my thigh and lifted me up so I could hook a leg around his hips. He sucked hard at my lower lip until it felt swollen. When I was sure I was going to suffocate from a combination of desire and lack of oxygen, he pulled back.
“I didn't like the look of self-doubt on your face. You have a lot to worry about, but don't ever worry that I don't think you are as sexy as sin.” He pressed his hips against my core, and I let out a little moan at the rigid length pressed against my aching center. “Tolliver’s better with words. I'm more of an action kind of guy.”
“So we all see,” Tolliver said dryly. “Now if you're done with the PDAs, we have an appointment to keep. Anyone would think he's Orion,” he muttered at Oz.
“Since Cady has arrived, I've come to feel a little more sympathy for Ri’s plight, that's for sure,” Oz said, shifting his jeans. “This was totally the wrong day to wear skinny jeans.”
Tolliver took my hand and tugged me to his side. “Don't let them fool you, those two are more alike than you think. Absolutely no manners and they think that chivalry is a type of whiskey.” He tucked my hand in the crook of his elbow. “Let me show you how you're meant to treat a queen.”
He escorted me to a bright red door and knocked twice. A young girl with long platinum blond hair opened the door. Seemingly bored, she stared down at her clipboard.
“Name?”
“Tolliver Matteo.”
Well, that made her look up. She stared at Tolliver, then Sam who was looming behind us, with Oz at his side. Her mouth swung open with an audible click. I knew the feeling.
The girl finally looked at me, and noticed my hand on Tolliver's elbow and Sam's possessive hand on my hip. She looked between the four of us, as if trying to work out which one I was banging and then appraised me as if she could discover my secret to getting three hot guys.
Sorry lady, you're going to have to find your own hell spawn. I gave Ace a mental high-five. Too right.
“Sure, come on in Mr. Matteo, Mr. Sigurdsson. I'm a huge fan of your work.”
“And his package,” Oz said and the girl blushed bright red.
“No, I mean yes. I mean, I like your Calvin ad, Mr. Sigurdsson.”
Sam nodded politely, but showed no further interest in the girl.
Fortunately, Tolliver helped the girl out. “This is Cady. Tell Anna-Maurice that she gets what she wants, no matter what it is.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Matteo.”
“We’ll head over to wardrobe,” Tolliver said, and strode away like he owned the place.
The girl let out a breath. “So hot. But so intense. I feel like my ovaries are going to explode just being in the same room.”
“Preach, sister. Preach,” I muttered as she led me through a curtain to my doom.
I stood in front of the door where Akoko, the blonde door girl, said wardrobe was. That was her name, though not the one she’d been born with I'd be willing to bet.
She sounds like French poodle.
No shit.
I’d been in the torture chamber with Anne-Maurice for four hours. Long enough to discover that Anne-Maurice wasn't a single person, but a duo of stylists that in turn, lead a whole team of other stylists. I'd been preened, plucked and perfected until I was basically unrecognizable. But I was also smoking damn hot. Like, I could light a crotch fire from a hundred paces. Now for the reveal.
I pushed open the door, and stepped inside. Oz looked up, then back at his phone, before his head snapped back up with a near comical look of surprise on his face.
“You look… you're so… holy hotness, Batman!”
I smiled so big at his shock that I probably blinded him with my freshly whitened teeth.
Sam turned from where he was looking at a rack of dresses.
“You look smokin’ hot,” he moved toward me for a kiss. I held up a hand. “No kissing off my makeup until Tolli gets to see it.”
As if he’d heard his name, Tolliver strode through the door with a tall blonde man. He stopped short, and his eyes perused every inch of my face.
“Stunning. You always look beautiful, but right now you're a work of art.”
The tall blonde man stopped in front of me. “Oh my, la swoon! I see Anne-Maurice did a beautiful job like always. My name Is Pierre, and I am your wardrobe consultant. Let's see if we can't find a bow to put on that pretty package, shall we?” He walked me to the rack that was jammed with clothes. “No. No. Yes. Tolliver, sweetheart, come here and hold these dresses for our beautiful Cady. No. Yes. Hmm. No. Who chose this dress? Were they blind?” Pierre went on like that down the whole rack, occasionally holding a dress in front of my body before either discarding it back on the rack or handing it to Tolliver, who was rapidly getting lost under the mountain of clothes.
Sam came over and pulled a dress from the end of the rack, putting it on top of the pile.
“This one.” It was the same dark blue of Sam's eyes, and covered in sequins. Well what there was of it. It was a romper suit. Like the kind you wear when you are four and prone to exposing your butt to the postman every day. But this one had a neckline that plunged almost to my navel.
“Oh yes. Oui. This is the one. Tolliver drop that pile, we won't need them anymore. Cady, you must go put this on immediately. I have just the pair of Louboutins,” he swanned out of the room
I looked around desperately for a change room or a curtain and found nothing.
“Need a hand?” Sam grinned.
“Maybe two?” Tolliver's lopsided grin melted my heart. But not enough that I was going to get undressed in front of them. I didn't have that kind of self-confidence. I looked over at Oz, but he just waggled his eyebrows.
“Out, the lot of you. And if you see Pierre, hold him out there too. I'll call you when I'm dressed.”
Sam pouted like a little boy who got his favorite toy taken away, but he left when Tolliver pushed him out the door.
I slipped off the straps of my dress letting it fall to the floor. Holding up the sparkling concoction, I had to admit it was pretty. It had long, gauzy embroidered sleeves, the blouse section was billowy and light, and although the shorts lived up to the very definition of the word, they flared out to create a kind of skirt effect.
I stepped into it, thankful that I could pull it up rather than mess my new hairstyle. I shucked my bra and appreciated my small boobs for the first time ever. There was no room for a bra, or modesty, with this outfit.
I looked in the mirror, what the room lacked in changing facilities it more than made up for in mirrors, and gaped.
The girl in the mirror wasn't the one I was used to seeing.
You look like Tinkerbell decided to ditch Disney and do porn.
I laughed, because she was kinda right. Anna-Maurice had given me this messy pixie cut, keeping close to my natural golden yellow but added highlights and lowlights. Their makeup artists had given me what they called a ‘natural’ look, but involved contouring my face until I was transformed. They'd widened my eyes and artfully applied liner to make my lashes look thicker than they really are.
In short, they were magicians. I'd never be able to recreate any of this.
The only thing marring the perfection of my outfit was the long surgical scar running down my sternum. I'd come to terms with the puckered scar that was still pink even after all these years. I'd even become accustomed to the occasional stares I inevitably got when I wore low cut tops. I wanted to wear this amazing outfit, scars be damned. The guys would love them or hate them, but they were a part of me.
“Okay, you can come in now.” I took a deep breath and stood tall. The only person who entered was Pierre, a shoebox cradled in his arms.
“You cannot do a grand reveal without the shoes. Especially not without these shoes. Normally I would suggest a classic pair in nude, because every girl needs a pair of those, but for this outfit, we needed something with a little more attitude.” He lifted the lid and revealed a sky high pair of bootie heels the color of my dress, but heavily studded with spikes. “These will add a little spice to your sugar, if you know what I mean.” He sat me on a chair and knelt before me, sliding my foot into the Louboutin like I was Cinderella. I kind of related to Cindy right now.
“Now you may come in,” Pierre shouted as he helped me to my feet. I wobbled a little unsteadily as I got my balance on the heels, and prayed they came with reinforced ankle support.
They all walked in and Sam whistled long and low, and Oz’s gaze fell to my cleavage and stayed glued there. I could tell by the heat in his eyes that it was definitely my boobs that had him so intrigued, not my scar.
“How do you feel?” Tolliver asked, his heated gaze running a slow perusal up my body.
“Surreal. And a bit like a princess.”
Tolliver walked towards me and leaned in, kissing me gently. “You look like a goddess.”
Oz murmured his agreement, and Sam came over, wrapped an arm around me and dipped me backwards, kissing me hard on the lips.
“Irresistible.”
Oz smiled and came over, pulling me away and kissing my temple.
“I think she is beautiful. This is just window dressing.”
My face flamed with embarrassment, but I couldn’t deny that their praise made me feel hopelessly pleased with myself.
There was a great sigh from the other side of the room.
“Wow,” Pierre moaned as he looked between my men.
My men, is it? You jumped on the polyamory bandwagon awfully quickly.
I ignored Ace and concentrated on the look of wanting on Pierre's face. “Are you sure one of them isn't gay?”
He sounded so hopeful I couldn't help but laugh. They could be anything their hearts desired, as long as I made them mine.