Free The Last Oracle by Delia Colvin Page A

estimation, were even near the beauty of this one.
    Valeria shook her head without taking her eyes off the gown.
    Ava grabbed Camille’s phone. “Hold on, I think she’s coming around.”
    “It’s the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen!” Valeria whispered softly, taking in every exquisite detail.
    Camille and Ava both let out a long sigh of relief.
    “Oh, thank God! I was about to have a stroke!” Camille said putting her hand on her chest to calm her pounding heart.
    A woman answered the phone on the other line but Camille was too relieved to even notice and hung up without a word.
    Ava turned to Valeria with her hands on her hips. “You know, you could have said it was the most beautiful gown you had ever seen before the ‘Oh, my God.’”
    The seamstress remained to make any adjustments but none were needed, the dress fit perfectly. Valeria didn’t know how Paolo did it, but he had exquisite taste and seemed to know her exact measurements, better than she knew her own.
    The girls heard another knock and Ava rose from the sofa and held open the door, bored with all of the hubbub.
    Camille glanced at Valeria. “I told them they had to come in one car. We don’t need the attention of four vehicles coming in and out of Morgana.”
    It was a crew from Elizabeth Arden for the full-bridal treatment, which included a massage, a manicure, pedicure, and a facial.
    “Camille, I hope Alex is getting the royal treatment, too,” Valeria said, removing the cucumbers from her eyes as the white mask dried. She lifted her lemon water and sipped it, as a woman kneaded her calves. The woman doing the facials glanced at Ava, in irritation. Ava had eaten the cucumber slices that had covered her eyes.
    Camille rolled her eyes at Ava and then said apologetically to the technician, “Yes, I know.”
    “Hey, these are good. I’m still hungry. Is there anymore of the eggs from breakfast?”
    “No. You ate five of them, plus a half a pack of bacon!” Camille accused.
    Ava shrugged. “I’m a hungry girl!”
    Camille returned her attention to Valeria. “Alex is being pampered—well, not quite to this extent. But he’s not the bride,” Camille tried to smile but from under the clay masque it looked comedic.
    Later, a makeup artist expertly worked her magic on Valeria’s face. As the woman packed up her cosmetics, Camille stared intensely at the bride, causing Valeria to take in her reflection in the mirror. Finally, Camille frowned.
    “It’s too heavy. You’ll have to redo it.”
    The makeup artist turned to Valeria, and in a heavy Italian accent said, “ Ze bride likes it. Does she not?” Evidently, the question was for Valeria.
    “Camille, I think it’s…fine—”
    Raising her hand, Camille interrupted Valeria without even looking at her and continued speaking to the artist, “She says it is fine. Do you want to know how fine translates? It means she hates it. We need a fresher look. She is a bride!”
    “But for ze pictures—”
    “Don’t argue with me on this one or I’ll phone your manager and insist they send up someone who can do the job right!”
    “But I am the premier artiste at Eliz—”
    “You won’t be an artiste anywhere if you don’t fix this!”
    Wondering if it was that bad, Valeria looked in the mirror. She thought it looked all right. Although, heavier than she would like.
    But with Camille’s direction, and another forty-five minutes, Valeria had to admit, the makeup made her look like her, only much better. Her face had a glow that she liked and her eyes and lips definitely stood out.
    A stylist pulled Valeria’s long brown curls into a loose French roll, and hooked it with a platinum and diamond hair comb that Camille said would be Valeria’s “something borrowed.”
    As the woman pulled out her hairspray, Camille stopped her. “Don’t use that lacquer on her!” Camille glanced through her own handbag and pulled out a “light hold” hairspray. “Use this one. And don’t