I also find out that the reason why Fiona had apparently forgotten, is because Francesca has told Fiona that she would take care of me regarding what I should know about the happenings in Montoya's house. Sure, she told me what to make him for breakfast and where the smoothie glass is, but how could she forget to tell me that I am absolutely not allowed to step inside his home on Fridays? Apparently, it's a big deal for him. So big of a deal that he left me crying while I ran out of his backyard, calling for a cab. I didn't even have the energy to wait for the bus.
After getting a couple hours of comforting sleep, I woke up again only to find out that nothing I experienced was actually a dream. And then I felt like crying again. How am I supposed to look him in the eyes again? Am I really strong enough to work with such a caveman as himself? How does Fiona do it? Why can't I?
When I get into the backseat of Francesca's Bentley that afternoon, I can't believe myself. What have I gotten myself into?
"Are we ready to shop till we drop, honey?" she smiles, her cheery voice filling the big car.
"Not really," I whisper, but apparently she's not even interested in an answer as she orders the chauffeur to drive to our location.
"Oh sweet Lord, what is this face?" she gasps, studying my tired face with narrowed eyes, "and I thought you couldn't look worse than that day at the antique shop!"
Thank you very much, mother of a caveman.
"I am tired, that's all."
"I see that, for sure. And why are you even tired? You got half the day off, lucky you!"
"Uhm, actually, you forgot to tell me that I'm not supposed to show up at his - "
"So, first we are to visit an old friend of mine. She's such a sweetheart, the absolute queen of fashion! Her name is Marlene, she's my stylist. She'll help us pick up something right for you..." she interrupts, looking at my grey over the knee dress, "that dress makes you look like you've got no legs and sagging breasts."
Oh God, so help me!
"Next, we will stop by Darlene, she'll give you a makeover. She does my makeup for every event! And yes, her and Marlene are sisters."
"Good to know," I murmur, quickly faking an understanding smile to stop her from speaking some more.
Breathing out deeply in satisfaction, she opens her red mouth again, "It will be a good day!"
I highly doubt so.
When we get to Marlene's boutique, I am completely taken aback. The boutique looks almost like a museum. Everything looks so expensive, I feel as if I'm not allowed to touch it. Only look.
I don't understand nor am I interested in Marlene and Francesca's pointless conversation, while they look around for clothes, her employers hurrying around us, making me feel absolutely sorry for them. They've got piles of clothes in their hands, running back and forth, another girl running after me with a tape measure, measuring everything that is to measure on my body.
"We're going to get you something that shows cleavage. You've got good breasts." She whispers to me, while Marlene makes us follow her to another clothing rack.
"We'll have to find some dresses with cuts that'll make your legs look longer. They're not... Long enough." Marlene announces.
Yes, because I am not 5'10. I am not a Victoria's secret model. Nor am I the blonde woman wearing Montoya's shirt.
Where did she come from, Hannah?! I scold myself, sighing in frustration. Besides, I like my height. I am not too small, nor too tall like that blonde. I am 5'6, and I am very happy.
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Having to move to a far too small house in the suburbs as a result of her aunt Donna's one night of crazy gambling in Vegas, Hannah is desperate to get their life back on track. With a jaw dropping loan, the last thing she needs is for the the hands...