“Speaking of clients—baby, I didn’t know Ivy worked with you,” Corey boomed.
Shit.
“She’s your client?” Lola asked, laughing as she turned a fraction to look between us. “I didn’t know that.”
“Yeah, she got lucky and was squeezed in for an appointment a couple of months ago.”
“Wow, Ivy. I had no clue! What did you have done?” Lola was looking right at me. “No, wait. Let me guess. Girls your age are usually going for . . . lipo? No—fillers?”
“No, I . . . um . . . I had my breasts done,” I murmured. “Breast augmentation.”
“Oh.” Lola’s eyes dropped to my chest on cue. She gave me a strange look—a look when I couldn’t tell if she was annoyed by that fact or still just curious.
“That’s interesting.” She gave me a once-over with her eyes and then faced Corey again, patting his broad chest. “Okay, well, we’re just wrapping up on the shoot. Think you can keep yourself occupied until dinner?”
“Yeah. Didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll catch a drink with Clyde.” He kissed her cheek. Splayed a hand on her upper back. “See you at dinner.”
Corey pulled away and Lola watched him go. She then turned to me, putting on a forced smile. The light in her eyes had faded, or maybe I’d just imagined it. Either way, she didn’t look very pleased at the moment.
* * *
Though I was glad I was making progress with my plan, it was awkward with Lola after the encounter with Corey. She did her head nods and passed her smiles, but they weren’t as genuine as before.
The shoot was over and Xena had gotten some great shots of the shirts, which Lola had praised her for, and when it was time for Xena and her team to pack up, I went back to the guest room with a smile riding my lips.
I needed Lola to trust me, and now was the perfect opportunity to dig a little deeper. I probably should have told her I had my breasts done beforehand to spare the awkwardness, but I liked the direction things had taken, and I was looking forward to watching it play out.
After I changed back into the casual jeans and blush blouse I’d worn to come over, I slipped into my sandals and walked out of the guest room.
Lola was standing in the sunroom, where I’d gotten my makeup done, with her cell phone in hand, scrolling through it.
As much as I loved watching her wallow a bit, while probably asking herself a million negative questions about her husband, I decided it was best to keep playing my part. Right now I was supposed to feel guilty. Embarrassed. Ashamed.
I needed to show it.
I lightly cleared my throat and said, “I think I’m going to head home. I forgot I have to be at work early tomorrow to do inventory.”
“Are you sure you can’t stick around? I still want to take you out for lunch,” Lola offered, facing me.
That surprised me. I thought of all people she’d shoo me off once she suspected foul play or mistrust. I still had to play my cards right. “Aw, Lola, that’s so nice of you, but you really don’t have to. The snacks you had today were great.”
“I insist, Ivy. Please.” She took a step forward and looked me in the eye. So maybe she wasn’t upset, or maybe she was taking me out so she could collect her thoughts and go about this the right way.
With a sigh, I agreed and followed her out of the mansion.
She walked to her Tesla and I climbed into the passenger seat, loving the feel of the luxurious, warm leather against my backside. The engine came to life and she drove through the gates.
“Ever been to Hatteras?” she asked me without taking her eyes off the road.
“No, I haven’t, but I’ve heard it’s very nice.” And way too expensive for my budget.
“Well, I’m glad I get to take you there first. It’s a beautiful place, with tables that have ocean views. You’ll love it.”
Okay. Why wasn’t she talking about the boob job thing and her husband? Why wasn’t she pissed? I looked at her through the corner of my eye every few seconds, waiting for her to tick, but she was calm. Her eyes were on the road, and she tapped her finger on the steering wheel as a song by Rihanna played.
When she pulled up to Hatteras, she handed her keys to a valet and I followed her inside. At a place like this you needed to make a reservation weeks in advance, but one look at Lola Maxwell and they had a table prepared on the air-conditioned deck overlooking the bay in less than two minutes.
“This view is amazing,” I said, hoping to keep up with her complacent mood.
“Isn’t it?” She picked up the drink menu. “Get whatever you want. After all your hard work today, you deserve it. I’ll order a good wine for us.” She gave me a sugary-sweet smile.