I guess my misery is visible for everyone to see.

I offer her a tight smile and a weak, “Okay.”

~ ~ ~ ~

I can’t stop staring at the glamorous woman in the mirror, tears welling in my eyes as I meet gazes with the blonde pixie woman’s reflection. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure!” Tris exclaims, her fingers skating through the silky strands, the dull ginger broken up by vibrant chunks of deep red, copper, and auburn. “Your hair is some of the healthiest and thickest I’ve ever seen. And this cut Sylvia gave you is perfect. It gives it bounce without sacrificing length.”

Sylvia only nods in agreement, busy sweeping the mounds of hair piled on the floor around my chair. My jaw hit the ground when she lopped off six inches from the bottom with a single swipe of her scissors, but by the time she was done snipping and edging with her fancy tools and combs, I didn’t care. My head feels about ten pounds lighter.

“Your color took well, but don’t wash it too much, if you want it to last, okay?”

“Yes, okay.” I want it to last forever. Glancing at the clock, I realize that it’s almost nine at night. We’ve been here for hours. “What do I owe you for this?” Worry gnaws at me. This couldn’t have been cheap.

“Nothing. Wolf covered it,” Tris says, tidying the work station.

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“I guess he felt pretty damn bad about giving you such a hard time earlier today,” Katie murmurs with a knowing grin.

“What?” I glance around, half expecting him to step out of the shadows. “How does he even know I’m here?”

“We had to get permission. Staff technically aren’t allowed to use hotel facilities but I figured, why not ask, seeing as you’re his personal assistant. I mean, come on! That’s got to get you something, right? So Sally called him and got his okay, seeing as we had no appointments tonight, and he told her to charge it to his account. Tip and all.”

I think my eyes are about to fall out of my head. Henry agreed—and paid—for this? “Seriously?”

Katie shrugs. “I guess he can be a decent asshole, too. And seeing as he’s a decent asshole...” She grabs my hand by the wrist. “Come on. There’s one more thing I have to do.” I trail her as she pulls me down the hall that separates the beauty salon from the rest of the spa, past the trendy little all-white reception area. “Stacy, do you have a waxing room ready?” she whispers to the receptionist. “I need it for ten minutes. Fifteen, max. I swear.”

The exotic Asian girl’s eyes flutter toward the three women sitting on a cream-colored leather bench, sipping from their glasses of champagne as they wait their appointments. “They just walked in,” she murmurs, trying to hide it behind unmoving lips.

“Please!” Katie begs in a whisper.

“Number ten. Be quick!” she hisses.

Katie plants a kiss on her cheek. “You’re the best! Abbi, come.”

“What are we doing in here?” I ask as she closes the door and locks it, enclosing us in a small room with a padded table in the center.

“We are fixing that issue down there.” With a long, pointed finger, she gestures toward my crotch.

My eyes widen as I realize what she wants to do. I open my mouth to say no, but she slaps her hand over my mouth. “Have I led you astray yet, today? Don’t you feel a million times better already?”

“Yes, I do,” I admit. “But I don’t see how doing that will help.”

“What if you hook up with a guy while you’re here? Do you want him to be getting down and dirty and choke on a mouthful of hair?”

I cringe and my face burns bright. “Oh my God.”

“Right? Didn’t you already hook up with someone the first night you were here?”

“No!” I exclaim. “Where did you hear that?” The second the question is out of my mouth, I know the answer. “Tillie.”

“A word to the wise, don’t tell that woman a thing that you don’t want repeated. She’s a gossip piranha. She’ll die without her daily dose of it.”

I sigh. “I didn’t hook up with anyone. I made a huge ass of myself.” Big difference.

“Okay, well, whatever. Everyone’s fucking like rabbits around here. It’s only a matter of time before you are, too. So please let me do this for you. I don’t have to do a full Brazilian. We can start with something less dramatic.”

I can’t believe this is happening. “Why do you want to do this?” I try not to sound suspicious, but I can’t help it. Why is my lesbian roommate so adamant to get my pants off and rip my body hair out?

She levels me with a flat stare. “Relax. I know you know.”

My cheeks burn. “How?”

She slips on a pair of plastic gloves and begins stirring the pot of green wax. “Because I caught you watching on my camera the other night.”

Oh my God. I wonder who’s more mortified. I don’t know what to say. She doesn’t seem bothered, though.

“And don’t worry. I’m not into you. You’re not my type.”

Her words prick me unexpectedly. “Why not?”

“You’re too innocent and sweet. I like my women bossy and confident.”

Hmm. Where have I heard that before?

She laughs when she sees the expression on my face. “Come on. Trust me. The last thing you want to be worrying about is poor grooming when you’re about to get it on.”

I look at the table in front of me, at the wax and strips of paper waiting.

A small voice in my head—the stupid, clueless, dreamy, crushing side that can’t help but fantasize—tells me that I wouldn’t want to worry about poor grooming with Henry.

“What do I need to do?”

“Drop your pants.”

Chapter Nineteen

He’s sitting at the desk with his back to me when I arrive the next morning, already dressed for the day in a navy suit, leaning back in the chair, a pen within his grasp. Multiple voices carry over the speaker phone.

I move quietly for his breakfast dishes, intent on stacking and clearing them for the service staff to pick up when they come at ten to collect dirty linens and such.

“If we have sound research to show that a Wolf will not succeed in Dubai, then give me even one good reason why we should—” Henry’s words drop off. I glance over to find him staring hard at me.

I nod and smile politely, and then quickly move away.

As quickly as my sore crotch will allow me to.

As if being naked from the waist down and splayed across a table under a bright light wasn’t bad enough, when Katie ripped that first strip of hair off me, it took everything in me not to scream. And by that point it was too late to turn back, she so kindly pointed out.

She worked fast, mercifully, and within twenty minutes, I was holding up a mirror between my legs. She’d left a small ginger “landing strip” at the top but otherwise, I’m as bald as Rachel. She even made me spread my cheeks. “You don’t want hair there, either,” she insisted. By that point, I let her do what she wanted, already past the point of mortification.

The aftercare lotion she gave me helped with the redness. She has promised that I’ll have smooth, soft skin within a few days.

I hate to admit it, but she was right. Even if no one ever sees her handiwork, it does make me feel more attractive. And my cotton underwear against my mound feels weird, as if a shield has been removed. If I step a certain way, the material rubs against my clit.

The voices on the other end continue on, a low hum in the background, and I try my best not to disturb Henry’s meeting as I shift around the place, tidying up. I duck into his bedroom and find his bed sheets in a rumpled pile. Again, my mind automatically veers to the thought of him in them.

Don’t let your crush get in the way of your job.

His chastising words yesterday snap me back to reality. Stripping his bed, I gather the sheets, the hamper, and the wet towels, and carry them to the servants’ quarters.