Teaching The Boss

Chapter Eleven

Jessica sat back against April's bed. "That's perfect," she said, a smile widening on her face.

"I feel like a five-year-old playing dress up in her mother's clothes," muttered April.

Jessica chuckled and pushed herself off the mattress to stand next to April. "Don't say that. You look like a million bucks."

"I don't look like a million bucks. I'm wearing a million bucks."

"It wasn't that expensive. I told you some designers owed me a favor."

April turned around again and glanced at the mostly open back of the daring dress. Well, nothing was too daring, per se, but she still felt much too bared to the world. The soft, dark blue silk was draped over her shoulders, fell gracefully over her breasts, left a deep V neckline and caught at her hips, making her waist look even smaller.

"I can understand them giving you a size two for you to wear around the city. Not a size twelve."

Jessica caught April's shoulders and flipped her around to face herself in the mirror. "When you walk out in this, that's a better advertisement than I could ever give them."

April bit her bottom lip before she remembered the lipstick she was messing up. Even she had to admit that she looked good. The dress was amazingly flattering, and Jessica was a master with makeup. The charcoal gray eyeliner had looked drab in the palette, but somehow Jessica applied it in just the right way to make April's dark eyes compete with the vibrant hue of the gown.

Jessica adjusted how the tiny cap sleeves rested against April's shoulders. "Just try not to spill wine on the dress. And make sure that when cameras start going off, you're there."

"This designer knows it's not a red carpet thing, right?"

"Please," Jessica said. "If Donald Hunt is going to be there with some new twenty-something on his arm, there are going to be cameras."

April's eyes widened and she saw her reflection pale. "You don't think—"

"I don't think—I know. But don't worry about that. Blogs and gossip rags love to speculate about that crap, but none of it affects you. Unless you make outings with the richest man in the city a normal thing, no one is going to dwell on this one night for too long."

The words comforted April a bit, but the possibilities zoomed through her mind. "Even if I do look better than normal, I hardly look like the type to be dating billionaires. Maybe they'll think I'm a relative."

Jessica snorted. "Whatever you tell yourself. Now, his car is going to be here in five minutes. Do you have everything?"

Just as she'd done with Sam, April had insisted she pay her own way across town to get to the hotel where the celebration was being held, but Donald had flatly refused. He'd insisted it would look bad on him if one of his invitees arrived in a dirty, yellow, outdated automobile. Those were his words anyway.

"I have makeup, money, ID, and the overnight bag I'm not going to use."

"Come on! Rooms there cost more than a month of rent. Even if you don't agree with why he got you the room, take advantage of what he's offering you for free!"

April slipped into her black high heels. "Nothing is free, Jessica. Mr. Hunt is planning something and I'm trying my best not to play his games."

"Says the woman about to get into the car he sent over."

April set her hands on her hips. "Seriously? Do you think I haven't tried to get out of this fifty different ways?"

"I think there's a part of you that still asks 'how high?' when Sam, or someone related to Sam, asks you to jump. What did Sam say when you told him about Donald's 'plans'?"