Maid For You 4

Chapter 17

A while after my phone call ended, I was lounging on my bed watching a YouTube video when the door opened and I heard a thickly accented voice say, "Mademoiselle Carmichael."

I shot up from my bed and turned to see an elegant woman dressed in a chic power suit with pixie-cut blonde hair, followed by a series of attendants. "Chloé Dubois?!" I asked, honestly shocked to see her again. I hadn't seen her since the Autumn Festival, when she and her crew had prepared me for my various looks for the day.

"We meet again," she said, sounding just as pleased at she did last time—that being, not very pleased. She stood with one arm resting on her hip, bent upwards at the elbow, with black matte nails lightly curled in towards her palms.

"You cut your hair," I said, and she stared at me as if she'd never heard a more stupid thought in her entire life.

"Oui," she said, taking no pleasure in the word, clearly. She snapped her fingers, a crisp, distinct snap that seemed to echo in my spacious room. "Mesurez Madmoiselle Carmichael," she said, and two assistants started to step towards me, holding measuring tapes like whips as they stretched them out before them.

Oh joy, I thought, climbing off the bed and subjecting myself to them and their measuring tapes.

"I never thought I would see you again," Chloé told me. "And I certainly never thought I would see you again in Nikoto, of all places."

I smiled awkwardly. "But here we are."

"Here we are," she said, her voice sounding more like a snarl than anything else.

This is just lovely, I thought. I'm SO glad she's back. However, I had to admit, the woman knew how to make a dress, so it was worth her less-than-friendly attitude.

"Do you already have a design idea for the dress?" I asked, since the ball was in a week and it seemed like a lot to whip together last minute.

"Of course," she told me. "I already have your whole design done, since I'm already quite familiar with your looks, but I need to measure you to make adjustments." She surveyed me carefully. "I can see the holidays were not particularly kind to you."

I frowned deeply. "I only gained like five pounds, okay!" I snapped.

She sighed, and started instructing her assistants in French on what to do, she herself coming up to examine me, poking me here and prodding me there with her stiletto black nails, even grabbing my face and staring into my eyes. I might have even looked romantic in another situation except for the intensity in her eyes that could in no way or form allude to anything romantic (unless one was into those strange novels where the man was clearly abusive, but that's beside the point).

Finally, she stood a few feet back, narrowed her eyes, and shook her head. "I do not know how you do it," she muttered.

"Do what?" I asked, having caught her words.

"How you end up charming princes, of all people."

"What do you mean?" I asked, though I supposed I had a pretty good idea of what she meant. She was referring to that fact that I'd been Queen Maiden, and now I was Nikolas's date, but still! The Queen Maiden was Klara's doing, not Coleman's, and Nikolas and I were just friends, anyways.

She folded her arms. "Is playing stupid how you win people over?"

I colored at her words. "What do you mean, playing stupid?! Okay, look, I know you designed my dress in Aregano and now you're designing it here, but I think you've misread the whole situation. I haven't won over anyone, okay? Coleman and I—well, that, that was his mom's doing, okay, me being Queen Maiden. And Nikolas and I are just friends, that's all."

"Did you know that this dress I am making for you is $50,000 U.S. dollars?"

"Fifty-thousand dollars?!" I half yelled.

"I suppose you did not know," she sighed, looking off to the side irritably. "You have yourself quite a nice friend, Mademoiselle."

YEESH! I thought. I can't BELIEVE it costs that much for this dress! And suddenly, Chloé's words were making me wonder if Nikolas really did just care for me as more than a friend. Of course, the thought had crossed my mind in certain moments, but I'd brushed them aside and had assumed they were my imagination. And yet, here was Chloé who seemed to think that there was something more between us, and even Queen Klara herself seemed worried about more than friendliness between Nik and I. In fact, all of Nikolas' advisors were apparently against it, including that Count Kolsov-or-whatever his-name-was and his own mother. And maybe everyone else was just delusional...or maybe I was.

The doors opened, and the man in question himself walked in briskly, a sort of impatience to his gait. Nikolas turned his head sharply towards Chloé and offered a curt nod. "Mademoiselle Dubois," he said.

"Knyaz' Nikolai," she said, nodding in return.

"Do you still need more time with Miss Carmichael?" he asked her.

"No, sir, we have just finished up everything," she told him.

"Good. I thank you for your time, and we shall see you soon," he said, effectively dismissing her. Once they all shuffled out of the room, he turned his full attention to me.

"Melaniya is on her way," he told me. "And she'll be helping you to pack your bags."

My eyes widened. Packing my bags? Is he sending me away?

***

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