Free The Millionaire Makeover (Bachelor Auction) by Naima Simone

heels higher than any she owned. He straightened. “And yes,” he said, grinning. “That is really you.”
    “Oh my God,” she repeated. “I feel like freaking Cinderella.”
    “I think she just called us fairies,” Terry drawled.
    “Oh, damn. I didn’t mean—” Khloe whipped around to face the hair stylist, heat firing her cheeks beneath the expertly applied make-up and an apology stumbling off her tongue.
    “Please,” Reece scoffed as Terry burst out laughing. “Ignore him. You look gorgeous, Khloe.”
    “And we’re late, so if you don’t get downstairs, we’re going to have another visit from Prince Charming.”
    The reminder of Niall caused the butterflies in her stomach to hatch into pterodactyls. But beneath the attack of nerves something else loitered. Anticipation. Excitement to see Niall’s reaction to her transformation.
    She accepted the small, beaded clutch Laurence pressed into her hands and managed not to fidget as he attached long, sparkly earrings. Moments later, they ushered her from the bedroom and escorted her down the short staircase. As soon as her foot hit the bottom step, she murmured a thank you to Laurence and glanced up.
    Niall stood in the entrance of her living room, as still as a statue.
    He was motionless. Except for his gaze. Her lips tingled under the visual caress. Her skin heated, nipples hardened at the phantom brush over her shoulders, across her breasts, and down her hips to the length of thigh bared by the high slit in the dress.
    She waited, her pulse thrumming like one of the Irish drum pieces he used to listen to. The primal beat reverberated in her veins, her chest, her ears. Throbbed between her legs in a traitorous rhythm she hadn’t experienced since the night he’d introduced her to a passion that had wrecked her.
    When his perusal made the return trip up her body and settled on her face, she barely managed to stifle a flinch. Cold. Harsh. His skin pulled tight over the sharp angles and severe planes of his cheekbones, forehead, and jaw. The sensuous curves of his mouth flattened into a grim line. And the vivid hue of his eyes had hardened into frozen chips.
    “You look beautiful,” he said, voice flat. “Are you ready to go?”
    Shock slapped her, and it required every bit of hard-earned reserve to mask the pain. What had she expected? Niall to suddenly become effusive with praise and flattery? To proclaim she was the most gorgeous creature he’d ever seen? Beg her forgiveness for abandoning her and eviscerating her already tattered self-confidence?
    She might feel like damn Cinderella, but unless the crystal palace had sprouted sheetrock and assumed an IKEA decor, she lived in reality, not in a land of rainbow-shitting unicorns. Besides, she didn’t want his apology. Or his approval. None of this was for Niall, but for Bennett.
    Bennett, who was handsome, kind, considerate, respectful. Stable. After tonight, he would finally see her as more than the mousey, socially awkward employee who blushed and stuttered when he spoke to her. And she…well, she would be one step closer to the dream of having a family of her own with a caring, attentive husband who valued her as an equal partner, who accepted her…who loved her.
    Straightening her shoulders, she tilted her chin, met his glacial gaze.
    “Yes, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

Chapter Six
    There were worse ways to spend a Friday evening.
    Like shopping in the post-Thanksgiving, pre-Christmas furor otherwise known as Dante’s unknown tenth circle of hell.
    Or a date bored shitless with a woman whose idea of intellectually stimulating conversation entailed a detailed analysis of the latest Dolce & Gabbana handbag.
    Or a mind-numbing marathon of the latest reality television crap.
    Definitely worse ways to spend a Friday evening than attending a festive party with food, music, and free-flowing alcohol.
    Still, at this moment, with Khloe in his arms, her curves brushing his body as they swayed to the