My Billionaire Stepbrother Read Online Free Page B

even with Chip and Shereen escorting me I have a hard time
making one foot step in front of the other to go inside. Enormous bouquets of
birds of paradise greet me through the doorway, immense, cool space beckoning
to me from every direction of the house. There is an enormous sofa, an indoor
fire pit, a huge wall of wine bottles, and a patio that stretches away from a
sliding door and beyond my line of vision. Fresh coffee perfumes the air. It
feels so green in here! So peaceful, so romantic, so luxurious.
    I can’t believe this is for me.
    “Wow,” I say again.
    “Yes, wow is correct!” Shereen
smiles and waves Chip away, shutting the door behind us. “And I promise I will
give you the full tour and explanation of all that is included in this bungalow
later, but first we have work to do.”
    My stomach sinks just a little.
“What do I have to do?”
    Shereen’s mega-watt smile doesn’t
leave much room for trepidation.
    “Ma petite sirène, we are going to
change you from your ordinary clothes into a princess. Come.”
    Fascinated, I follow her up a
floating staircase to an enormous master suite, decorated in the most tasteful
and beautiful white furniture I have ever seen. How decadent, to have white
furniture and carpet. How do they keep it clean?
    An enormous closet takes up the
entire wall, its mirrored doors flung open to reveal a full stock of garments. Entranced,
I run my fingers over a few dresses, noting the silky textures.
    And the tags.
    “Gucci,” I breathe. “Chanel, Prada,
Fendi, Dior, Ralph Lauren, Dolce and Gabbana, Versace. This is ridiculous! And
everything is in my size? How?”
    I’ve never even stood this close to
clothes this expensive in my entire life. I can feel perspiration break out on
my forehead. What if I rip or spill something? I usually spill everything. I
could never afford to replace one of these if I ruined it.
    “A welcoming gift,” Shereen explains.
“All for you to keep, Mademoiselle. But today, these are not for you to wear.
Today, you are to wear this.”
    She steps over to an armoire in the
corner that I had not noticed; it is entirely made of beveled mirrors,
intricately carved like something straight out of Versailles Palace. She opens
the doors and carefully removes an elegant dress fit for a fairy tale; it’s a
soft color somewhere between white, peach, and gold, the palette seeming to shift
like a shimmering sunrise.
    “Wow,” I murmur.
    It’s turning into my favorite word.
    “Custom made for you, Mademoiselle,
by Oscar de la Renta. A special order hastily completed because the late
Monsieur de la Renta was a close family friend. This is for today’s special
occasion. You will look like a goddess, oui?”
    “Oui, a goddess with no idea where
she is or what she is doing.”
    I touch the fabric in awe. It’s
like touching a cloud. Shereen sighs wistfully.
    “This dress will be perfection on
you, Mademoiselle Veronique. When he sees you in this, how could he be upset?”
    I stare at her. “When who sees me?
Who is upset?”
    But she only claps her hands and
shakes her head.
“No no don’t listen to me, I am just talking to myself. We must hurry. We only
have an hour.”
    “An hour ‘til what?”
    As per usual, I get no answer to my
question. Instead Shereen just grins mysteriously and herds me into the shower.
    The time flies, filled with primping
and make-up and finally the dress itself, which slides over my skin and fits
like a glove. When I see my own finished reflection, I can’t believe it. My
long dark hair is piled on top of my head in an elegant updo, white orchids
pinned here and there, pearl earrings making the whites of my eyes and my
greenish pupils jump out like beacons.
    And the dress – the dress! It’s
beyond a fairy tale. It’s beyond the red carpet. It hugs my upper body,
tastefully revealing every curve, and cascades to the ground like a golden mist
that whispers with secrets every time I breathe.
    “Wow. Are you sure I’m not