her pocket, message uncompleted, and forced herself to return Victor's solicitous smile.
“Tm fine, thank you,” she assured him.
“My personal physician would be happy to see you at any time.”
“No, really, I'm quite all right,” she repeated.
“So glad to hear it I trust you're fit enough to go out to Stone Island this afternoon, then. I need your help on an urgent project.”
She heard Seth's reaction in her mind, and winced inwardly at the thought “I—ah, well, on such short notice, I really—”
“Don't worry about packing. Everything will be provided. The car is waiting to take you to the marina. I will join you at the island after I take care of a few small items of business. Be brisk, please. There's a great deal to be done.” He strode away without waiting for a response.
She stared at his retreating back, dismayed. Harriet sashayed over to her desk and leaned down with a big fake smile. “Don't worry” she hissed. “Everything will be provided.”
Raine lifted her chin and glared right back, sick to death of the pointless, toxic hostility of that place. “Don't you get tired of being such a cast-iron bitch, Harriet?” she demanded. “Doesn't it wear you out?”
Her voice carried farther than she'd intended. Shocked silence spread out, like the electromagnetic pulse of a hydrogen bomb. Not a piece of paper moved Even the phones stopped ringing. The whole office waited for the sky to fall.
Harriet yanked Raine's coat off the hook and flung it at her. “Your carriage awaits “ she spat out “Get out of here. Don't come back”
It took the whole ride to the marina for her heart rate to slow down to normal. She calmed herself by fiddling with the cell phone, composing and sending a message to Seth.
She was met at the dock, not by Clayborne, but by a stunning brunette with hazel eyes who introduced herself as Mara. They passed right by the main stairway that led to the second floor office, to Raine's bewilderment. “But aren't I— doesn't Clayborne need me in the office?”
“Clayborne's not here. None of the office staff are here.” Mara started up a spiral staircase, which led up to the tower bedroom that had once been her mother’s. Raine's apprehension climbed a notch.
“Then why did Mr. Lazar tell me—”
“Ask him, not me.” Mara pushed open the bedroom door.
The room was brilliantly lit with a makeup mirror. A rack of plastic-covered clothes hung in front of the bed. Raine turned to Mara, bewildered. “But Victor told me he had a project he wanted—”
“You're the project, honey,” said a thin, short-haired woman. She and the plump white-haired lady beside her rose to their feet, eyes narrowing as their professional instincts leaped to life. “Out of that horrible outfit, and into the shower, please. We've got to get your hair shampooed so I can blow the curls out.”
Raine shook her head. “But I—”
“Just do it,” Mara said flatly. “There's a huge party tonight You’ve got to look good, so let's get on with it”
“But—”
“You do have contact lenses with you, don't you?” Mara asked.
“Ah, yes, I have them in my purse, but—”
“Thank God.” The white-haired woman rolled her eyes and began unraveling Raine's braid.
There was no stopping them. They plucked, steamed and peeled, massaged and moisturized her. Her hair was washed, conditioned, rinsed, trimmed, dried, straightened. It seemed a waste of energy to resist. It was part of Stone Island’s spell. Part and parcel of the bizarre transformation she underwent, day by day.
Even the lingerie was provided. It was the most beautiful stuff she'd ever seen—midnight blue lace panties, lace-trimmed thigh-high stockings. She looked around for a bra, but Mara shook her head.
“Not with the dress you'll be wearing. You won't need one.”
“Me?” Raine looked nervously down at her bare chest, trying to imagine what kind of dress she could possibly wear braless, but there was no time to fret about it She was plunked down in front of the big makeup mirror. Lydia, the short-haired woman, coiled her hair back into a smooth, intricately knotted chignon at the back of her head, while the plump woman, whose name was Moira, began with the makeup. She made approving tittle noises as she dabbed on cosmetics with a slow, delicate hand. She brushed Rained face with a translucent powder and stepped back with a triumphant smile. “Done.”
“Now the dress.” Mara rummaged through the things on the rack and pulled one out, tossing it on the bed. A long, voluminous skirt spilled out from the plastic wrapping, gleaming against the white lace coverlet. It was a deep, peacock blue taffeta, shot through with subtle rainbow tints. The garment was two pieces, the billowing skirt and a tight, boned corset top, strapless and scalloped at the neckline, angling down to a rounded V at the bottom. Raine finally understood the lack of a bra. The close-fitting bodice was a bustier in itself. It pushed her up, offering a daring expanse of her white chest, and lots of deep, shadowy cleavage. Lydia scowled as she fastened up the hooks. “You're thinner than I was led to believe.”
“Sorry.” Raine almost laughed at her accusing tone. “I haven't had time to eat lately”
“If you don't eat, you'll lose your looks,” Lydia scolded, threading her needle. “Hold still while I fix this.”
They twitched and tucked, stitched and tweaked, spritzed and sprayed- Finally they led her before the mirror on the armoire.
She tried not to gasp, but she was truly shocked at the way she looked. The color of the dress set off her skin, making it pearly and luminous. The makeup was subtle, but it brought her face into focus, accentuating her high cheekbones. Her straight brows were plucked into an elegant shape, opening up her face. Her eyes seemed huge. Even her big, full mouth, which she had always felt made her look childlike and vulnerable, looked different. Sensual and curvy. She looked glittery, luminous. Almost... beautiful.
She had never considered herself beautiful. Pretty, maybe, in a washed-out sort of way, but beauty was Alix's undisputed territory and Raine had sensed from an early age that it would be dangerous to encroach on it.
The knowledge that she was beautiful gave her no pleasure, however. It was a possible advantage, maybe even a weapon, if she had the stomach to use it. Alix had used hers. Often, and without mercy.
The thought chilled her. Beauty did not make her feel powerful. At least, not here. On the contrary, she felt even more vulnerable in the sensual, beautiful gown. Victor was playing with her.
The dress was the color of the last light of evening in a clear sky. It reminded her of an illustrated volume of fairy tales she'd read as a child. Bluebeard’s bride had worn a dress like this one, except for the addition of puffed leg-of-mutton sleeves. The same peacock color had clothed her on her voyage of horror and discovery through her new husband's grim, bloodstained castle.
She shuddered. Mara misinterpreted it and reached behind her.
“There's a wrap, if you're cold,” she said. She draped a stole of the same peacock taffeta across Raine's shoulders. Rainbow highlights shitted, shimmered. Raine dragged her gaze away from the mirror and looked at the expectant faces of the three women. She manufactured a smile. “Thank you. You're all very talented. I look wonderful.”
“Come with me now,” Mara said briskly. “Mr. Lazar said to bring you to the library when you were ready.”
She followed Mara through the corridor. The taffeta skirt billowed around her, brushing sensually against the floor. Cool drafts sighed across her bare shoulders and exposed neck, making the stole float behind her like fairy wings. Mara opened the door to the library, gave her a brief nod of farewell, and melted away into shadow.
Raine wafted across the crimson carpet The library was lit only by a stained glass hanging lamp that illuminated the photographs on the shelf below and the portrait of Raine's grandmother from above. She stood in the center of the roiling serpentine pattern of the Persian carpet, swathed in an enormous, dreamlike silence.
She stared up at the portrait. Her grandmother's painted image seemed to stare down, her pale gray eyes gleaming with subtle amusement. Raine realized that she had the same eyes and brows. The brows were slightly different, now that Moira and Lydia had plucked and tamed them, but the basic effect was the same.
She wished she had called Seth, but the cell phone was still in her purse in the tower room. She had no evening bag to match the dress to carry it in. She'd been so afraid of Seth's reaction, but now, dressed up and led
