Reading Online Novel

Matched to a Billionaire(33)



Elise put a comforting hand on Dannie's arm. "My point is that you   totally can. I'm sorry he's being difficult about accepting all that you   have to offer beyond the ability to schedule personal appointments.  But  you've got what he needs emotionally, too."

Did she?

And did she have what he really needed or only what he thought he   needed? For a long time, she'd smugly believed she knew the difference   and her job was to guide him into understanding how to express his true   desires. But really, her own pent-up needs had messed that up. And how.

Dannie took Juliet upstairs to Elise's war room, complete with a long   lighted mirror and counter, racks of clothing and more hairstyling and   makeup tools than a Vegas showgirl dressing room.                       
       
           



       

"All this is necessary?" Juliet's gaze darted around the room, her nostrils flaring. "What is that? Will it hurt?"

The panicked questions lightened Dannie's mood. "It's a straightening   iron. For your hair. We don't stick your fingers between the plates   unless you fail at balancing a book on your head." The other woman's   cheeks blanched and Dannie laughed. "I'm kidding. Sit down in that chair   and let's get started. Drink?"

Dannie crossed to the small refrigerator stocked with water, lemons,   cucumbers and ice packs, the best beauty accoutrements on the planet   behind a good night's sleep.

"Thank you. I'm not thirsty."

"You need to drink plenty of water. It's good for your skin and helps   you stay full so you don't feel as hungry." Elise's lessons rolled out   of Dannie's brain effortlessly. "Lemon gives a little bit of taste, if   you prefer."

"I prefer to be sailing or swimming." The frown had no trouble reaching Juliet's eyes, unlike her smile. "I miss the water."

"Where are you from?" Dannie asked as she plugged in the hair dryer,   straightening iron, curling iron and hot rollers. She hadn't decided yet   how Juliet's long hair would best be styled, though it would surely   benefit from a more elegant cut. And she'd definitely need a facial.   Dannie mentally ticked off a few more details and realized she was   humming.

It was the happiest she'd felt all week.

"South of France. Delamer." Juliet spat out the country's name as if it   had the reputation of being a leper's colony instead of a Mediterranean   playground for the rich and beautiful.

"That's a lovely place. And you've got those two gorgeous princes. I   read that Prince Alain is getting married soon. I hope they televise   it." Dannie sighed a little in what she assumed would be mutual   appreciation for a dreamy, out-of-reach public figure and his royal   romance.

Juliet instead burst into tears.

Dannie gathered the other woman into a wet embrace and patted her back. "Oh, honey. What's wrong?"

Juliet snuffled against her shoulder. "Matters of the heart. They can undo us like no other."

She had that right. "Is that why you left Delamer? Someone broke your heart at home?"

With one last sniff, Juliet pulled out of Dannie's arms and dragged the   back of a hand under both newly steeled eyes. "I want to forget that  man  exists. In Delamer, it's impossible. They splash his picture on   everything. If I marry an American husband, I don't have to return and   watch him with his perfect princess."

Dannie finally caught up and sank into the second director's chair. "Prince Alain broke your heart?"

This story called for chocolate and lots of red wine. Unfortunately, it   wasn't even lunchtime and Elise kept neither in the house.

With a nod, Juliet twirled a brush absently, her thoughts clearly   thousands of miles away. "There was a scandal. It's history. I can't   change it and now I have to move on. What should we do first to   transform me into a woman who will attract an American husband?"

Dannie let her change the subject and spent the next two hours teaching   Juliet the basics of makeup and hair. It was a challenge, as the woman   had never learned an iota about either.

"If you line only the bottom lip with a pencil that's a shade darker   than your lipstick, it'll create an illusion of fuller lips." Dannie   demonstrated on Juliet's mouth.

"Why would I want to do that? I can't sleep in lipstick. In the morning,   my husband will realize I'm not pouty lipped, won't he?" Juliet pursed   her newly painted lips and scowled at her reflection in the mirror.

"Well, figure out a way to distract him before he notices," Dannie   suggested and moved on to eye-shadow techniques. There was no polite way   to say Juliet needed some style.

Tomboy she was, down to her bitten-off fingernails, Mediterranean   sailor's tan and split ends. The tears had unlocked something in Juliet   and she talked endlessly with Dannie about her life in Delamer, minus   any details about the prince.

Dannie bit back her questions, but she'd love to know how such a   down-to-earth woman without an ounce of polish had gotten within five   feet of royalty, let alone long enough to develop a relationship with a   prince. Then there was the briefly mentioned scandal.

She didn't ask. The internet would give up the rest of the tale soon enough.

Elise checked in and offered to have lunch delivered. Since Dannie had   nowhere else to be, she stayed the rest of the day. She took Juliet   shopping at the Galleria in North Dallas and by the time they returned   to Elise's house, Dannie had made a friend. Which, she suspected, they   both desperately needed.                       
       
           



       

Before Dannie left to go back to her empty house, Elise pulled her   aside. "You did a fantastic job with Juliet. If you're in the market for   a permanent job, I would hire you in a second."

Dannie stared at the matchmaker. "Are you serious?"

"Totally." Elise flipped her pageboy-cut hair back. "It takes time to   groom these women, and I've got more men in the computer than I ever   thought possible. Successful men don't have a lot of patience for   sorting out good women from bad and I provide a valuable service to   them. Business is booming, in short. If you've got spare time, it would   be a huge help to me."

Elise named a salary that nearly popped Dannie's eyes from their sockets. "Let me think about it."

Her job was Leo Reynolds's Wife. But suddenly, it didn't have to be. She   could make money working for Elise and take care of her mother.

Leo was married to his company, first and foremost. He made that choice every day. And now, Dannie had choices, too.

She didn't want a divorce. She wanted to be Leo's wife and have the   marriage of her dreams, but Leo was half of that equation. Before she   made a final decision about how she'd spend the next fifty years, he   should have the opportunity to fully understand what her choices were.   And how they'd affect him. He might give her the final piece she needed   to make up her mind.

Maybe she'd get an exorcism of her own out of it.

* * *

The exorcism was not only a colossal failure, but Leo had also learned   the very uncomfortable lesson that he couldn't find a method to erase   the scent of strawberries from his skin.

He'd tried four different kinds of soap. Then something called a loofah.   In one of his less sane moments, sandpaper started looking very   attractive. It was totally irrational. The scent couldn't actually still   be there after so many days, but he sniffed and there it was. Essence   of Daniella.

Leo clenched the pencil in his hand and pulled his gaze from the Dallas   skyline outside his office window. The garbage can by his desk   overflowed with crumpled paper. He balled the sheet on his desk and   threw the latest in another round of useless brainstorming on top. It   bounced out to roll under his chair. Of course. Nothing was happening as   it should. Normally, paper and pencil was his go-to method when he   needed to unblock.

Surprise. It wasn't working.

Tommy Garrett was very shortly going to be furious that he'd signed with   Leo instead of Moreno Partners. This deal represented the pinnacle of   venture capital success and Leo's brain was fried. He had nothing to   show for his half of the partnership. He was supposed to provide   business expertise. Connections in manufacturing. Marketing. Ideas.

Instead he'd spent the past few days mentally embroiled in about a   million more fantasies starring his wife, whom he'd deliberately driven   away. For all the good it had done.