visit log with purple eyeliner.
Kelsey Riordan-Buccola was related to either Dolce or Gabbana through her mother’s third marriage to a Sicilian exporter. But her real father must have been a total wannabe, because Kelsey’s blood type was LBR positive. Unfortunately, all the couture in the world couldn’t make up for Kelsey’s patchy skin, close-set eyes, and unibrow. However, a Be Pretty transfusion and some tips from a seasoned alpha
could.
They were greeted at the gate by a security guard who patrolled the grounds in a bulletproof golf cart. Once cleared for entry, they drove down the Riordan-Buccolas’ half-mile-long driveway and parked beside an angel fountain that peed moldy water.
“Truth is beauty,” Massie repeated to herself, hoping that at some point the feel-good philosophy would actually start to make sense. Because come awn, since when had
truth
ever landed anyone a modeling contract?
“
Be
good.” Isaac smiled as he opened her door.
Massie tightened the grosgrain belt on her shirtdress, gripped her case, and climbed the slate steps to the Riordan-Buccolas’ front door.
The enormous gray stone manor was more Hogwarts than Hamptons, but Massie silenced her inner critic. Anastasia had earned her place on the Most Beautiful People list by finding the beauty in people with bad taste and worse skin, and so would she.
Ding, dong, ding, dong
. . .
The doorbell sounded like the Riordan-Buccolas had hired the New York Philharmonic to play every time someone came to visit. Massie looked around, half expecting to see the orchestra camouflaged in the rosebushes.
. . . ding, dong, ding, dong
. . .
A shiny-haired brunette around Massie’s age, wearing an impossible-to-get beige Stella McCartney slip dress, opened the castlelike door. The girl had the Riordan-Buccolas’ signature ski-slope nose but otherwise she looked wholly unfamiliar. Maybe Kelsey’s stepcousins from the old country were visiting?
“Is Kelsey Riordan—”
. . . ding . . .
Massie tried again. “Is Kelsey—”
. . . dong . . . ding . . .
Massie threw her hands on her hips and waited.
. . . dong.
“Okay,
now
it’s done.” The girl grinned. “Massie? Is that you?” She flashed an even-toothed smile.
“Ehmagawd,
Kelsey
?” Massie looked deep into the girl’s sapphire blue eyes. “You look ah-mazing.”
Kelsey smiled appreciatively. “Thanks.”
Speechless, Massie shook her head in disbelief while she awe-admired Kelsey’s stunning metamorphosis. Her expertly placed chestnut highlights framed her suddenly flawless skin, and the neutral-colored slip dress made her tan pop. “I hardly recognized you without the—”
Pimples? Braces? Hairy man-legs?
“Glasses,” Kelsey finished with a knowing smile. “Lasik eye surgery. Now I can actually see the price tags on this season’s wardrobe. Not that they matter, of course.” She stepped outside and sat on the wide slate steps.
Kelsey shielded her blue eyes from the afternoon sun and peered at Massie. “So, what are you doing here? Did Becki Rogan blab about the boxes I just got from D&G? Because I am so not opening them until my birthday, which isn’t till July.”
“Puh-lease.” Massie tried not to sound insulted as she took a seat next to the new-and-obviously-surgically-improved Kelsey. But come awn! Even if her credit cards were canceled for the next ten years she wouldn’t act all envy-impressed by Kelsey’s connections. At least not in public. “I came to show you some
ah
-mazing new beauty products I discovered.”
Massie popped open her makeup caddy and leaned back so as not to cast a shadow on her treasure.
Kelsey quickly turned to shoo a yellow butterfly that had begun fluttering around her glistening hair.
“At Be Pretty Cosmetics,” Massie started, “we believe that truth is beauty.”
Kelsey was still shooing, so Massie fast-forwarded to the end of her speech. “Let Be Pretty Cosmetics help you become the woman you were meant
Kelsey Riordan-Buccola was related to either Dolce or Gabbana through her mother’s third marriage to a Sicilian exporter. But her real father must have been a total wannabe, because Kelsey’s blood type was LBR positive. Unfortunately, all the couture in the world couldn’t make up for Kelsey’s patchy skin, close-set eyes, and unibrow. However, a Be Pretty transfusion and some tips from a seasoned alpha
could.
They were greeted at the gate by a security guard who patrolled the grounds in a bulletproof golf cart. Once cleared for entry, they drove down the Riordan-Buccolas’ half-mile-long driveway and parked beside an angel fountain that peed moldy water.
“Truth is beauty,” Massie repeated to herself, hoping that at some point the feel-good philosophy would actually start to make sense. Because come awn, since when had
truth
ever landed anyone a modeling contract?
“
Be
good.” Isaac smiled as he opened her door.
Massie tightened the grosgrain belt on her shirtdress, gripped her case, and climbed the slate steps to the Riordan-Buccolas’ front door.
The enormous gray stone manor was more Hogwarts than Hamptons, but Massie silenced her inner critic. Anastasia had earned her place on the Most Beautiful People list by finding the beauty in people with bad taste and worse skin, and so would she.
Ding, dong, ding, dong
. . .
The doorbell sounded like the Riordan-Buccolas had hired the New York Philharmonic to play every time someone came to visit. Massie looked around, half expecting to see the orchestra camouflaged in the rosebushes.
. . . ding, dong, ding, dong
. . .
A shiny-haired brunette around Massie’s age, wearing an impossible-to-get beige Stella McCartney slip dress, opened the castlelike door. The girl had the Riordan-Buccolas’ signature ski-slope nose but otherwise she looked wholly unfamiliar. Maybe Kelsey’s stepcousins from the old country were visiting?
“Is Kelsey Riordan—”
. . . ding . . .
Massie tried again. “Is Kelsey—”
. . . dong . . . ding . . .
Massie threw her hands on her hips and waited.
. . . dong.
“Okay,
now
it’s done.” The girl grinned. “Massie? Is that you?” She flashed an even-toothed smile.
“Ehmagawd,
Kelsey
?” Massie looked deep into the girl’s sapphire blue eyes. “You look ah-mazing.”
Kelsey smiled appreciatively. “Thanks.”
Speechless, Massie shook her head in disbelief while she awe-admired Kelsey’s stunning metamorphosis. Her expertly placed chestnut highlights framed her suddenly flawless skin, and the neutral-colored slip dress made her tan pop. “I hardly recognized you without the—”
Pimples? Braces? Hairy man-legs?
“Glasses,” Kelsey finished with a knowing smile. “Lasik eye surgery. Now I can actually see the price tags on this season’s wardrobe. Not that they matter, of course.” She stepped outside and sat on the wide slate steps.
Kelsey shielded her blue eyes from the afternoon sun and peered at Massie. “So, what are you doing here? Did Becki Rogan blab about the boxes I just got from D&G? Because I am so not opening them until my birthday, which isn’t till July.”
“Puh-lease.” Massie tried not to sound insulted as she took a seat next to the new-and-obviously-surgically-improved Kelsey. But come awn! Even if her credit cards were canceled for the next ten years she wouldn’t act all envy-impressed by Kelsey’s connections. At least not in public. “I came to show you some
ah
-mazing new beauty products I discovered.”
Massie popped open her makeup caddy and leaned back so as not to cast a shadow on her treasure.
Kelsey quickly turned to shoo a yellow butterfly that had begun fluttering around her glistening hair.
“At Be Pretty Cosmetics,” Massie started, “we believe that truth is beauty.”
Kelsey was still shooing, so Massie fast-forwarded to the end of her speech. “Let Be Pretty Cosmetics help you become the woman you were meant
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