NEW LOOK

Chapter Twenty-Four : continuation

Seline woke slowly, her body sinking into the plush mattress beneath her as the soft morning light filtered through the tall windows. For a moment, she lay still, stretching her limbs luxuriously against the silken sheets, indulging in the unfamiliar comfort. The room, with its grand furnishings and tasteful elegance, felt like something out of a dream.

Such a shame, she mused, trailing her fingers over the cool fabric. Admiring what I should hate.

The thought lingered uneasily in her mind, and with it came the echo of Simeon and Aaliyah's voices. They had warned her, urged her to stay cautious, to stay alert. But here she was, wrapped in luxury, teetering on the edge of complacency.

She sat up, running a hand through her disheveled hair, and swung her legs over the side of the bed. The cool marble floor sent a shiver up her spine as she padded across the room to the full-length mirror standing elegantly against the wall.

The reflection staring back at her made her heart sink. Her skin was pale and drawn, dark circles etched under her eyes. Her once radiant complexion looked dull, and her hair hung in lifeless tangles around her shoulders. She looked... broken. A shadow of the woman she once was.

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "A makeover," she muttered. "I need a damn miracle."

Jason had said he would take care of it. But where was he? The weight of his absence gnawed at her more than she cared to admit. She couldn't face him—or anyone—looking like this.

Just as she reached to smooth down her wrinkled clothes, the door creaked open. The sharp click of heels against marble filled the silence, each step deliberate and commanding.

Seline turned slowly, eyes widening as a woman entered the room. She was striking—tall and poised, with a figure that exuded effortless confidence. Her dark hair was swept into a tight, impeccable bun, and the sleek black gown she wore clung to her curves, the deep slit revealing toned thighs and a teasing hint of cleavage. Cool blue eyes assessed Seline with a kind of detached amusement, as if already drawing conclusions.

"I'm Skye," the woman finally said, her voice smooth and cultured. "I'm here to help you get ready."

Seline's brows lifted slightly. "Ready for what?"

Skye's crimson lips curved in a knowing smile. "All in good time."

Without waiting for a response, she snapped her fingers, and within moments, two young women entered carrying an assortment of towels, lotions, and elegant clothing. Seline watched, feeling slightly overwhelmed as they moved with practiced efficiency, preparing what could only be described as a pampering session.

The bathtub, a magnificent clawfoot centerpiece in the adjacent bathroom, was soon filled with steaming water infused with delicate floral oils. As the warm, fragrant mist filled the space, Seline hesitated, eyeing Skye warily.

"Go on," Skye said with an encouraging nod. "You'll feel better."

Seline swallowed her uncertainty and stepped forward, shedding her clothes with the girls' assistance, feeling oddly vulnerable under their gaze. The moment she sank into the bath, a sigh of relief escaped her lips. The water enveloped her like a warm embrace, easing away the tension knotted deep within her muscles.

Lavender, rose, and hints of jasmine swirled around her, soothing her frayed nerves. One of the attendants gently poured warm water over her hair, fingers massaging her scalp in slow, methodical circles. Seline closed her eyes, surrendering to the sensation. It was the most indulgent moment she'd allowed herself in what felt like forever.

The attendants scrubbed her skin with gentle exfoliants, washing away the grime and exhaustion that had clung to her for far too long. Her fingers brushed against her collarbone, suddenly aware of how delicate she felt in that moment, how much she had been holding together by sheer will.

After what seemed like an eternity, they helped her out, wrapping her in a plush robe and leading her back into the bedroom. Skye stood by the dressing table, sorting through an array of elegant gowns and delicate undergarments.

"We'll start with your hair," Skye announced, motioning for Seline to sit.

The attendants moved with quiet efficiency, their hands working through her damp locks, blow-drying and brushing until her hair cascaded down in soft, glossy waves. A touch of makeup followed—light foundation, subtle blush, a hint of gloss on her lips. When she glanced at the mirror again, she hardly recognized herself.

"You clean up well," Skye remarked, handing her a deep emerald-green dress with a plunging neckline and cinched waist. "Wear this."

Seline hesitated, eyeing the dress warily. It was beautiful, but it felt too... opulent. Too calculated.

Skye arched a brow. "It's just a dress, darling. Not a prison sentence."

Seline sighed and took it, slipping it over her shoulders, feeling the soft fabric mold to her figure. The dress fit perfectly, hugging her curves in all the right places, accentuating a femininity she hadn't felt in a long time.

Once dressed, Skye stepped back to admire the transformation, her cool eyes approving.

"Shall we?"

With no choice left, Seline followed Skye downstairs, each step filled with trepidation. The grand staircase opened up to an expansive dining room, where Jason and Lucas sat at a long table engaged in light conversation.

The moment they noticed her, the room fell into silence. Jason's gaze flickered to her, his expression unreadable, his jaw tight. He took her in with a single glance, then looked away, dismissing her without a word.

A pang of something sharp twisted in Seline's chest. Did he not remember what had happened between them that night? The way he had kissed her his manner, —raw, vulnerable—felt like a distant memory now.

Lucas, ever the charmer, rose from his seat, his smile warm and inviting as he approached. His eyes swept over her appreciatively, and he took her hand, pressing a soft kiss against it.

"You are beautiful," he said sincerely, holding her gaze.

Seline forced a smile, allowing him to lead her to the table, though her eyes remained fixed on Jason. He didn't acknowledge her, his focus firmly on his plate.

She sat down, trying to push down the lingering ache in her chest. Whatever had happened between them, it clearly meant nothing to him now or perhaps he didn't remember. But as she stole another glance at him, she caught the slight twitch of his fingers against his glass, the tension in his posture.

Perhaps he wasn't as indifferent as he wanted to appear.

And that thought, dangerous as it was, was enough to keep her seated at the table.