Chapter 27 From hot mess to perfect

Chapter 27 From hot mess to perfect
IRIS

I didn’t know what I’d been expecting when I’d knocked on Nicholas’ door and had heard the gruff come in, but it was certainly not whatever was happening right in front of me. 

The huge drab ceiling to floor office felt suddenly overcrowded when at my entrance, heads had snapped up to take me in, their eyes not hiding the blatant assessment in their gaze. 

There seemed to be two group of people in the room.

On the sofa were three men and two women draped in suit. They had been discussing in a low, clipped voice, their eyes on a laptop placed at the coffee table in front of them before they had deign me deserving of their attention. 

I hated to admit that they seem to be the reasonable group, even though they had all looked up at the same time, gave me an accessing glance from head to toe and then whatever they had been discussing became heated, with them gesturing at me at intervals.

That is not creepy at all.

But the seconds group was even more bizarre. 

One of them was wearing slacks and shirt made from sequins and had a measuring tape on his neck. While the others had even more interesting outfits that almost made me genuinely wonder if I’d entered the wrong floor if not for the presence of Nicholas who sat behind his desk, scrolling on his phone acting like this was a normal occurrence in his office.

I blinked, my eyes must be comically wide as I looked around the space. “What is going on here?” I slowly asked. 

The man wearing the sequin clothes stepped forward. His eyes swept over me once and his expression tightened with disapproval making me arch my brow.

I was dressed in a hoodie and baggy jeans, perhaps because Nicholas had asked me to stop by for a quick chat, which didn’t seem to be what was happening after all.

But regardless of my simple outfit, at least it was utilitarian unlike his sequin shirt which was being held up by what looked like a giant pin? He was certainly not in a place to judge.

He extended his hand, showing off advert worthy teeth. “I’m Lucas, the lead stylist and I’m assuming you’re the infamous Ms. Iris?”

I nodded slowly even as my head snagged on an important detail, lead stylist. I turned to look at Nicholas who was watching our exchange with a thoughtful look on his face. 

“What is going on here?” I asked again.

“We are making a statement,” Nicholas simply said. “Changing your narrative into something more less about what’s his name?”

I frowned. “Collin?”

Nicholas nodded “It should be easy. His name is quite forgettable.”

My brows were still furrowed in confusion when Lucas clapped his hand sharply making the second group who were standing at the corner of the office to look up. “We should get moving. With what I can see, we are already behind schedule.”

The group behind him quickly matched for the door while I kept gaping, lost even as Lucas pointed at the door with a smile, “After you Ms. Iris,” but his French lilt didn’t help to make what was going on here, any more clear. 

“To do what?”

“Let me see,” he said thoughtfully counting down with his fingers, “There is hair treatment, styling, conditioning and for your outfit… I’d just say that your wardrobe is a critical cause for concern. We have to reconstruct your wardrobe, figure out what colors best suit your skin and —”

“Reconstruct what?” I spluttered, appalled.

“Yes, Ms. Iris.” He gave me a sympathetic smile. “I’d be honest with you, your case is bad, but don’t worry I’ve seen even more damning cases.”

My mouth dropped open as I turned to look at Nicholas wondering if this was supposed to be a joke.

“I didn’t inform him about the dismal state of your wardrobe,” Nicholas promptly said.

“Excuse me?” I asked mortified.

“Excused,” Nicholas drawled then went back to his screen. Lucas nodded at the people behind me.

Immediately, two women flanked my side. “Come with us, Ms. Iris.” 

Before I could protest further, they gently but firmly steered me toward the door.

“Nicholas,” I snapped over my shoulders while digging my heels into the floor. “You’re supposed to teach me how to be a CEO not turn me to a little makeover project!”

Nicholas didn’t even look up from the iPad that one of the women in a suit had stood up to hand to him. “This is me showing instead of telling. I heard that it was an excellent technique.”

“A literary technique, certainly not a great fit to be employed in a situation where I’m betting my eligibility to take over Astor Cosmetics on you!” I retorted.

“You need the clothing.”

“I’ve clothes.” 

“Appropriate clothing.” He cooly corrected.

“I’m not doing a makeover.” I objected.

He slowly looked up and then met my eyes, as usual his were impenetrable ice. “No talking back.”

I gaped at him.

His audacity. 

Then he turned to Lucas, effortlessly dismissing me like I was a toddler acting up. “I trust your judgment.”

Lucas had the audacity to press a hand dramatically to his chest. “A burden that every stylist has to bear.”

“You all are insane,” I argued.

“Two hours and we’d transform her from hot mess to perfect,” Lucas continued like I didn’t say anything.

The women had resumed dragging me out of the room, “I heard that!” I squealed.

“Good,” Lucas simply said. “I aim to fulfill my promise.”

I groaned even as I was successfully dragged away. Asking for Nicholas help was a mistake.