Malora totally forgot about her appointments, but luckily, Henry came up to get her. Their first stop was a large shopping mall where a woman was awaiting them.

'Hello, I'm Janette Lockhart,' the stylist said, coming forward, her hand held out to Malora.

'Hi,' Malora greeted with a smile.

Janette's eyes were very large, a much deep, blue like Malora's, and were enhanced by false eyelashes that she batted with great effect. Her hair was cut very short around her lovely face. Dressed in a black and white pencil skirt and a pink top, she was effortlessly chic.

'I flew from Paris for this, you know?Mr. Pitts knows how much I love shopping so he asked if I wouldn't mind cutting my holiday short to go shopping with you. Of course I said yes,' she explained with a twinkle in her eyes.

'Cool,' Malora said, some of Janette's enthusiasm already rubbing off on her. Janette was a good change after the meeting with the lawyer, Blake and the monstrous One Hyde Park.

'Mr Pitts mentioned formal attire, beachwear and a pair of new trainers.'

Malora nodded. Wow, he remembered the trainers. The man was thorough.

'Do you want a coffee or tea or shall we hit the road?'

'Hit the road.'

They walked together to the lift. Janette called it and turned to her. 'Do you have any specific shops or do you want to leave it to me?'

Malora bit back a chuckle at that. She'd never gone on a shopping spree in all of her twenty-three years. Besides, this was a different store than what she was used to.

'You decide everything.'

And that turned out to be an excellent decision as Janette proved to be an expert shopping companion. She knew exactly where to go to get what.

Their first stop was Fenty. Janette guided Malora toward a cosmetics counter.

'This girl is a genius. She can make a chimp look sexy, so listen carefully to her advice,' she said about a sweet-looking lady standing behind the counter called Miranda.

Malora was popped on a high stool, given a hand mirror and taught how to make the best of her make-up.

'Have you ever tried wearing waterproof mascara?' Janette asked smoothly. Her face was innocent, but it was clear that Titan had mentioned something about her smudged mascara.

Together the three of them chose seven lipsticks, some sparkly eyeliner, cream blusher and waterproof mascara.

'Now to the perfume department,' directed Janette. 'Something terribly exotic to go with your dark hair and gorgeous eyes.'

Afterwards, Henry dropped them off at the front entrance of Harrods. Malora had never been inside before, but Janette seemed to know her way around, and they quickly made for the first floor where they picked up what Janette called the basics: three white blouses and four plain black leather trousers and three leather skirts. They walked out of the side entrance of Harrods on the east side and entered Rigby and Peller.

Janette had made Malora an appointment for a fitting. The woman who called Malora into the changing room was middle-aged with large, strong hands.

'Most women are walking around in the wrong bra size,' she said, and made Malora bend over while she fitted her with a bra. It turned out so was she. Malora was not a 34A but a 32B. When she had chosen the designs she wanted Janette flashed her company credit card. Malora's face would have been a bright red had she been fair skinned, when she remembered the black card Blake gave her. She'd deliberately left it at the apartment along with the drug dealer phone.

'Now let's go get the good stuff,' Janette said, batting her eyelashes.

'How much are you allowed to spend on me?' Malora asked curiously.

'Actually,' she said, 'Mr. Pitts didn't see fit to set a limit.'  She winked conspiratorially. 'So we make hay while the sun shines.'

They walked around the back of Harrods and down Old Brompton Road. Janette was a mine of information. She knew everything about fashion, what's so in, what's so out, what's in if you were not really in, what got the best second-hand prices when you wanted to flog it.

She suggested a beautiful red and silver handbag in Gucci. 'To die for,' she said.

'It is a limited edition. Pure crocodile skin,' explained the snooty-faced sales assistant helpfully.

'Okay,' Malora agreed, bewildered by the price tag. She stood by the counter while Janette paid and wondered what sort of reception she would have received if she had come here alone.

'Let's go,' Janette sang merrily. She really loved shopping.

Then she was being led into Chanel.

All her life Malora had dreamed of owning a Louis Vuitton bag. Once someone gave her a fake Louis Vuitton bag for Christmas and she waited until a reasonable time had passed before giving it away to a charity shop. If she couldn't afford the real thing Malora didn't want to pretend.

Janette was clever. It was as if she understood; here her suggestions were unnecessary. All she said was, 'Choose.'

Malora felt she was in Aladdin's cave. It was impossible to choose, but in the end she picked the classic white with the leather interlaced gold chain strap. When Janette went to the counter she said, 'And we'll have that blue one too.'

'That's nearly seven thousand pounds!'

'Yes, but we have no limit. Besides, every girl needs a blue handbag. What else can you carry when you want to dress in white?' Janette argued reasonably. She phoned Henry to come and pick up the packages.

Almost in a daze, Malora was led into and out of a string of designer boutiques. Most of the shop assistants seemed to recognize and head for Janette immediately.

'Cupboard love,' Janette dismissed, as they fluttered around her with accommodating smiles. 'I am often here helping the wives of our high profile Middle Eastern clients spend their money.' Janette seemed very sure of exactly what will look good on her.

They bought a navy blue suit, a blue cocktail dress; a backless, sequined, black evening gown, and a sleeveless signature dress from Alexander McQueen, and of course shoes to match. Janette decided that she would need a black pair of court shoes for the trousers, dainty diamond-studded stilettos, five tone sandals, strappy tomato-red heels encrusted with swarovski stones, tall brown boots, and multi-colored, ultra fashionable platforms.  

'Right, we are almost running out of time, but first a quick trip to Versace. Versace can be too gaudy and whorish, but this season they have something that I think will suit you perfectly.'

That something turned out to be an electric blue silk shirt that was almost the same color as Janette's eyes and skin-tight black leather trousers.

'Exactly as I thought—fantastic,' she said, pleased with herself. She looked at her wristwatch. 'Perfect timing. Let's have some tea.'

Once again Henry came to collect the packages, and they found themselves a table in a French patisserie full of women. They ordered cream tea. Malora bit into a buttered cream and jam filled scone ravenously.

'It is wonderful that you can eat so much and still be so slim. I have to be careful,' Janette said, sipping lemon tea and breaking off small crumbs of her croissant.

'Missed lunch,' Malora said, swallowing.

Once she caught Janette looking at her with an unreadable expression.

'Do you have to do this often for Titan?' she asked.

'To be perfectly honest, I have never done this before or heard of Mr. Pitts asking anyone else to do something similar, and though I was flattered to be asked, I was also dreading it. I thought you would be a brash gold-digger, but you are an unassuming breath of fresh air. It has been a delight to take you around.'

After tea, Janette and Malora climbed into the Maybach and Henry took them to a hairdressing salon that belonged to one of the top hairstylists in the country. They walked into the perfumed space and a young girl with bright red hair came to greet and led them into a private area. Two glasses of champagne and a plate with finger foods arrived on a tray.

'Go ahead,' Janette encouraged. 'You'll be grateful for it when you are at your next appointment.'

'Why?  What's next?'

Janette smiled cheekily. 'Full body wax.'

Malora's jaw dropped when the celebrity stylist, Jet Atkins, himself appeared. He noisily air-kissed Janette on both cheeks and did the same with her. Then he stood back to look at her thoughtfully. Tipping his head slightly to the side he reached for her hair.

'Oh,' he exclaimed, rubbing a chocolate strand between his fingers. 'Virgin hair. You have never bleached or permed it, have you?'

Malora shook her head.

'It is a sin to cut such hair. Come, come,' he said, leading her to a single chair in front of a mirror and waiting while she sat. 'We will leave the length, but we will do something wonderful for this heart-shaped face. We will give it a fringe.'

He picked up his comb and scissors. When he was finished Malora could hardly believe what a difference a fringe had made. Her eyes were suddenly enormous and her little chin now looked delicate and cat-like. The few curls she had had been tamed into straight strands that brushed the top of her spine.

'Beautiful,' declared the stylist flamboyantly.

'Very beautiful, indeed,' agreed a smiling Janette.

While Janette was paying, Malora stared at herself in the mirror. It was truly amazing how much a fringe could change one's face. She looked so different she almost didn't  recognize herself. The new style brought out the shine of her fair face.

'This is where I say goodbye,' Janette said from behind her. Malora turned around to face her. 'Henry will take you to the beauty salon where you have your last appointment. That over with, he will take you to the apartment where you will soak in a lovely bath and then you will dress in your new clothes. I believe you have a hot date at eight.'

'Thank you, Janette.'

'The pleasure was all mine.'

'I don't know if we will ever meet again, but I'll never forget you.'

'Nor I you,' she said, and bending forward planted a light kiss on Malora's cheek.

Her next stop was in High Street Kensington. In an all-white salon an olive-skinned, middle-aged, barrel-like woman in a white trouser uniform with a clipboard, smiled and introduced herself as Breanna Rehon. Breanna was Spanish and had retained her thick accent despite having been in England for fifteen years. She showed Malora into a small room with a beautician's bed.  

'Ever had a full body wax before?'

'No.'

'No problem. We use three different waxes here. For the longer hair, the medium length, and for the pesky short ones.'

The waxes were heating in three pots. Each one was a different color.

'Shall we do waist down first?'

'Will this hurt a lot?'

'Well, it depends on your pain threshold. Some people fall asleep while I am waxing them.'

'Really?'

Her pearly whites flashed. 'Really. Pop on board. We will start with the legs.'

Malora reluctantly climbed on the bed that had been lined with paper, and laid down.

Breanna painted a thin layer of warm wax on Malora's calf and laid a strip of cloth on the wax. 'Ready?' she asked.

Malora nodded and she ripped.

'Ow,' she cried.

'The first one always hurts. The next one will be better,' she said.

She painted another layer of wax and, stretching Malora's skin, ripped it off.

'Ow,' Malora cried again.

'It gets better after a while,' she consoled unconvincingly, and launched into a monologue about how she and her husband have jammed sandwiches every night while they were watching TV. 'Sometimes, on weekends we will turn to each other and say, "Shall we have another?" and we do,' she enlightened.

Despite a penchant for innocuous jam sandwiches, Breanna turned out to be a hair Nazi. She would not tolerate even the smallest hair anywhere. A painful hour later, Malora was red and hot and stinging all over. She had been asked to assume embarrassing positions so any stray hairs around what Breanna called the bum hole could be ripped off.

'Why would anyone want to do that?' Malora asked.

'It looks prettier this way,' Breanna said, as she ripped another offending hair out.

Malora's reply was another cry of pain.

When it was all over Breanna squinted at her face. 'I can do your eyebrows for free,' she offered. 'Eyebrows don't hurt at all.'

'Yes, I know. Some of your customers fall asleep.'

Again a flash of strong teeth. 'Well, shall I?  I can make them look very beautiful.'

'OK.'

The Rehon's had a son in art school apparently, and Breanna filled her in about him while she worked on her eyebrows. When she was finished she applied aloe vera gel before bringing a round mirror and giving it to her. The skin looked red and a little swollen but Breanna was right—her eyebrows actually arched and framed her eyes rather fetchingly.

After that torture the manicure and pedicure were a pleasure. On the drive to the apartment Malora examined her French manicure and had to admit it was very pretty.

The car came to a stop at One Hyde Park.

'Here we are,' announced Henry, switching off the engine.

Chapter dedication: odudu01

Because she's amazing.  And also, s first time reader who totally rocks!!

A/N:

Yo!

What's wrong? Why's Wattpad so dry, huh?

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