Chapter 6 - The Transformation
At six o'clock, two senior stylists from Maison de Soie arrived at the suite Adrian had opened for me at the Drake Hotel.
They brought three rolling racks of couture gowns, velvet shoe boxes, and cases of high-end diamond jewelry.
For two hours, they worked on my hair, my skin, and my makeup. They didn't try to hide my size or push me into restrictive shapewear. Instead, they selected a deep emerald-green velvet gown designed by a French house—a gown with a structured corset bodice, a sweeping off-the-shoulder neckline, and a dramatic skirt that flowed around my ankles like liquid silk.
The rich green velvet made my dark hair shine and complemented my pale skin, completely framing the small, healing mark on my cheek into something that looked like a warrior’s badge rather than a scar.
Around my neck, the lead stylist placed my grandmother’s restored pearl-and-diamond choker, recovered from the Lake Forest vault three hours earlier.
When I stepped out of the dressing room, Adrian was waiting in the sitting area, wearing a black tuxedo with a crisp white shirt and dark emerald cufflinks that matched my dress.
He stood up slowly, his grey eyes sweeping over me from head to toe.
For the first time since I had met him, the dangerous, unyielding crime lord looked genuinely speechless.
“Amelia,” he murmured, stepping forward, his voice low and raspy. “You are breathtaking.”
I looked at myself in the full-length gilded mirror on the wall.
The woman staring back at me wasn't the tired, overworked florist in soil-stained sneakers who had taken a slap for a stranger on Michigan Avenue. She was a woman who knew her worth, who held forty-two million dollars in legacy behind her, and who was walking into battle beside the most feared man in Chicago.
“I’m ready,” I said, turning to face him.
May you like
Adrian held out his arm, a dark, lethal smile spreading across his face.
“Then let us go ruin a party.”
