Madeline was pouting as Daisyâs personal stylist began to work on her face. She had done her research; the studioâs star was Talon. Despite her reservations about his too-cool-for-school attitude, whispers of his miraculous touch that could transform the plainest Jane into a head-turner had reached her ears.
She considered herself a knockout already, but the lure of outshining everyone else was irresistible.
Living in the shadow of Regina had been a constant irritation. Whenever that woman was around, Madeline felt invisible to everyone else. She was determined to be the only one men noticed tonight.
âMom, canât you just get Talon to do my makeup? I donât want any old person touching my face!â she whined.
The stylist, about to apply foundation, couldnât help but smirk at the request. As if they could just summon the boss on a whim. Did she think she was someone special? Imogen shot her daughter a stern look. âHurry up and get done. We donât have all day.â âBut Mom, you said tonightâs event is super important. Whatâs the problem with wanting the best, Talon, to do my makeup? Donât you want your daughter to be the belle of the ball?â
Madeline fluttered her eyelashes pleadingly.
Imogen hesitated, remembering the recent clash with Talon. It was a no-brainer; he wouldnât agree to style her daughter now.
âEnough with the drama, Madeline. Daisyâs stylist is top-notch. Thatâs good enough.â
Madeline stamped her foot in frustration. âBut Daisyâs old! Iâm nineteen; itâs not the same!â
Imogen glared at her daughterâs insensitive remark. âZip it. If you canât say anything nice, donât say anything at all.â
Then, turning to the stylist with a forced smile, Imogen said, âMy daughterâs spoiled, Iâm afraid. Please donât take her words to heart.â
The stylistâs expression remained neutral. âBoss Talon hasnât styled anyone in years. Iâd let that dream go if I were you.â
Madeline scoffed. âYou think Iâm clueless? Heâs doing Reginaâs makeup, isnât he?â
âYes, Regina is the exception. Nobody else can get the boss to come out of retirement. You should probably just accept it, Ms. Tanner âYouâre just a stylist, a glorified servant, and you dare to mock me? Do you even know who untered such boldness in a long time.
This stylist had nerve.
Unfazed, the stylist replied, âMiss, the fact that I donât know who you are, isnât that the real tragedy?
Besides, what does it matter to me who you are?â