Chapter 2, Part 3

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Chapter 2

The Princess Bride

     Ten minutes later, Rachel bit her bottom lip as she regarded her reflection in the Bridal Suite's floor length mirror. An awed part of her brain struggled to accept the incongruous image of her barefoot self clad in an exquisite pale lilac strapless, tea-length chiffon gown with fitted bodice. The other, practical part fretted about falling behind schedule. She kept one eye on the digital bedside clock, and the other on the ball of white fur rolling over her uniform on the unmade bed.

     "I need to call the Housekeeper, Ms. Kane. I have rooms to clean."

     "Wanda will take care of that," the bride-to-be said airily. She turned to the PA. "Inform the hotel manager that I need Rachel until Sunday."

     "Right away." The assistant bolted for the exit.

     "We booked the entire hotel for the wedding," assured the tall, slender woman with a medley of blonde highlights in waist-length hair. "What the bride wants, the bride gets. Relax and show me a few smiles. Mouth open. Mouth closed. You know the drill."

     "Drill?"

     "Your smile for the wedding photos. I need to approve it." She grabbed Rachel's bare shoulders and twisted her around for a close-up.

     "Photos?" Rachel squeaked. Her heart leaped to her throat. With her beyond ordinary face and prairie-flat chest, she'd stand out among all the beautiful people and not in a good way. "You don't want me in your wedding photos, surely?"

     Ignoring her protest, Ms. Kane tapped a scarlet, French-tipped nail against her perfect chin. "Mouth closed, I think. Yes, a sweet but sexy smile puts the focus on your big brown eyes."

     "Ms. Kane," Rachel burbled, an embarrassed flush flooding her cheeks. "I'm not pretty enough for celebrity photos. I belong behind the camera, not in front of it. You need to find someone else--"

     As Rachel gestured at the mirror, she caught sight of the tiny white dog on the bed behind them. Its devilish black eyes stared straight at Rachel's backside. To her horror she noticed a dark stain spreading out from under its butt and over her uniform. "Oh my gods. Your dog just urinated on the bed!"

     "Did she?" Ms. Kane's good humor restored, she merely glanced at her pet sitting innocently beside a puddle rapidly disappearing through Rachel's uniform into the eight hundred thread count Egyptian cotton duvet cover. "Bad Mopette," she cooed. "It's Wanda's fault. She's supposed to walk you every four hours. The maid will clean it up."

     "I'm the maid!"

     "Not anymore you're not. This weekend you're my bridesmaid. A cousin on my mother's side from... from..."

     "Toronto," Rachel supplied.

     "Right, Toronto, Canada. Where they have that international film festival."

     "And the largest city in Canada," Rachel added dryly.

     "So it's settled."

     "But--" Rachel flung an arm toward the mirror. "Look at us," she wailed. "Standing beside you I'm... I'm the beautiful Princess' ugly stepsister."

     "Not stepsister," Ms. Kane admonished, wagging a long, elegant forefinger. "Cousin, remember? And give me some credit for the ability to make you presentable. You must know that I was a model before I launched Candy Kane Cosmetics? It's my business to transform women's faces into the best they can be. A skillful application of makeup, and you won't recognize yourself."

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