Billion Dollar Bad Boy (Big City Billionaires #1)

Free Billion Dollar Bad Boy (Big City Billionaires #1) by Nora Flite Page B

Book: Billion Dollar Bad Boy (Big City Billionaires #1) by Nora Flite Read Free Book Online
Authors: Nora Flite
she spotted me, her face lit up in a dimpled smile. “You look great.”
    Self-consciously, I held up my hands. “Hah, I'm the prettiest girl at the Shower Ball.”
    I expected her to roll her eyes at my stupid joke, but she actually snorted. “Maybe you'll be crowned Queen, then you can wear the shower cap.”
    Maybe it was her job to be likable, but I didn't care; she was good at it. Laughing, I followed her into a room where a few other women were getting their nails and hair done.
    Sarina sat me in a chair; it squished around me, luxuriously plush. “What color would you like on your nails?”
    I spread my fingers, frowning. “I don't paint them much. I don't know.”
    “Here, just look over these and see what catches you.” She offered a tray. On top of them, a color wheel of nail polish awaited. I was blown away by the range of choices.
    Brushing my hand over the colors, I inhaled. “So many options, huh?”
    “Take your time.”
    I started to thank her for her patience. But then I saw it; the nail polish was glittery, a beam of starlight.
    Silver.
    Pointing, I controlled my tiny smile. “That one, please.”
    The manipedi was glorious. I found myself going slack, relaxing as Sarina worked over my fingers and toes. When she was done, I wiggled my nails in awe. They sparkled, a pure silver that was bound to impress.
    “You like?” she asked.
    “I like. Yeah.” They'd match my dress exactly.
    “Now, let's do your makeup and hair.”
    I winced. “This will sound ungrateful, but I'd rather... not.”
    Sarina tilted her head so fast that her hair swished like a broom. “But you've paid for it.”
    Silver paid for it. Not me. Shrugging, I blushed nervously. “I haven't been done up like this in—ever, I guess. It's making me feel not very me.”
    Crouching, she met my eyes with her friendly smile. “I'll only do a little bit. Trust me.”
    I wanted to say no, but she was so sincere. “Okay. But please don't slather it on.”
    “I'll make you look like you, just more shiny.” She winked, then set about preparing my skin. Sitting there, my relaxing mood diminished. I was wary of what I'd see when she was done.
    Except, minutes later, when she told me to open my eyes...
    I realized I'd been acting stupid.
    “Oh my gosh,” I laughed, turning side to side in the mirror. Sarina had kept it simple, just some eye shadow and a little mascara. She'd wound my hair up into a delicate coif, my neck long and exposed. I looked like me, only enhanced. “You're incredible.”
    Clasping her fingers, she bounced on her heels. “Glad you like it!”
    I had a feeling Silver would like the end result, too.
    Guiding me further into the building, Sarina waved me into a low-lit room full of candles. It smelled like sandlewood and coconut, a shelf covered in oils taking up a whole wall.
    “Just strip your robe off and get under the sheet,” she said. “Your massage will start in a few minutes.”
    “Alright. Sounds wonderful.” I could definitely use this massage. The stress from my meeting with detective Roose had left me tense, even if I'd done my best to forget the whole mess.
    Sarina slid out the door, so I unbelted my robe, letting it pool at my feet. In just my lavender bra and panties, I snuggled up onto the table. The room was warm, the gentle music making me sleepy.
    With my face pushed into the hole at one end of the table, I started to drift off. Distantly I heard the door open, feet scuffing gently my way.
    “Welcome back,” I mumbled, almost giggling at how drunk I sounded. “I was starting to pass out.”
    Firm hands slid the sheet down, pressing into my shoulder blades with practiced force. A hot whisper tickled the nape of my neck. “I hope I don't put you to sleep.”
    I jolted up, nearly banging Silver in the face with my skull. “You!” I gasped, yanking the sheet around my chest.
    And it was him; he stood there with a wicked smirk, his hands shining from massage oil. He'd rolled his shirt up

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