Billionaires At War

CHAPTER XXII

Who was she kidding? She couldn't do this.

"Yes you can, and as long as the blood in my veins is red, you would dress like a queen and go to that dinner."

Cassandra looked back at the mirror while Shantel worked magic on her head with a curler and a pintail comb. She had avoided telling Julia about the dinner Harrison had purposed, but she got back home racked with nerves and fear. It wasn't a date, of that she was well aware, but she was going to be sitting across from him with nothing to do but talk and, at worst, stare. Shantel had been the best option, she had a great sense of fashion and an overtly ridiculous interest in Cassandra's personal life.

"Where did you learn how to do this?"

"Went to college with this girl, and we shared a room together," Shantel mumbled with a few hairpins stuck between her teeth. "She was so good that she could braid her own hair herself, no help. Just her, a mirror, a comb and some hair cream. She wanted to be a professional stylist, and I was interested in learning a few tidbits which she was kind enough to teach. Now, stop moving too much and let me work."

Cassandra leaned back on the chair, her heel clicking rapidly on the floor as she bounced her foot rapidly in worry. "Is there a reason for all this though? I told you it was a dinner to just get on good terms, not a date."

Shantel snorted. Once her lips were free from the pins, she laughed out loud. "It's because it's just a dinner that I am dressing you like this. The day you go on a date with Harison Clark, trust me I would make you look way hotter than this. Of course, not that you need my help since you are already stunning, but you understand where I am getting at."

"You don't have to scream his name like that."

"You should have seen me run out of the house the minute you mentioned his name. Only to be disappointed when I showed up at your door and you persistently drove into my head that it's just a dinner. Trust me, I get it."

Shantel pushed the pins into her hair and stepped back to admire her handy work, shaking her fingers to make the curly strands bounce.

"Finished?"

Shantel walked in front of her, helping her stand from the chair, so she faced the mirror. The off-shoulder long-sleeved polo she had on was faltering, especially with the necklace and earrings, Shantel had picked out for her. She wore an A-line skirt and a matching ankle strap heel. Cassandra tugged at the shirt and turned to see how well the skirt fit against her.

"I should cancel."

"Over my broken heel."

"Are you sure about this outfit?" Shantel's eyes rolled. "No, seriously. You don't think it looks a bit...unprofessional."

"From what you said, I didn't think you were trying to be professional."

The sound of tires on the grovelled ground stole her rebuttal before a small hunk drew her to the balcony window. Shantel strolled behind her, watching bashfully as Harrison stepped out of the car. Thankfully, or not, he was dressed casually; trousers, a T-shirt and a suit jacket.

"Remember," Shantel cautioned as they walked down the stairs. "Try not to get too defensive during conversations. Not everything he says is meant to grind your molars. Smile, relax, get through the evening without fighting."

"I know how not to fight."

Shantel's expression of wonder vanished. Replaced by a bored, emotionless glare. "Be real."

Shantel stayed behind, watching from the stairs while she walked down to meet an overpleased Harrison. She slid into the car, squeezing the strap of her purse tightly between her fingers as she watched the doors of her house vanish into the night.