The bouncers weren’t her responsibility, and she should have kept her mouth shut, but when had she ever? “Thanks for the reminder. I’ve got a sweet one of you making kissy-faces in the mirror.”

Yep, she knew how to get along with her coworkers, all right.

***

Over the next few days, she drove the minor princesses and their servants shopping as part of a five-car, sometimes six-car motorcade that included at least two vans to transport their mountain of purchases back to the hotel, everything paid for in cash. But instead of envy, Piper began to feel pity, especially for the teenage miniprincesses. Sometimes she saw the identical yearning in their eyes that she’d seen in Faiza’s, a yearning that couldn’t be satisfied with a dozen trips to the Apple store. A yearning to walk unaccompanied along the sidewalk with the same carefree strides as the American girls they watched through the darkened windows of their SUVs.

***

On the day of her dreaded dress-shopping appointment, Princess K’s sister took forever at her facialist, which made Piper ten minutes late arriving at BellaLana, where Coop was leaning against a jewelry case and chatting comfortably with the female staff. If Piper had been prone to hives, one look at the racks of expensive clothes on display would have given them to her.

The black, white, and silver decor gave the place an industrial, op art, fin de siècle vibe—both luxurious and somehow condescending, as if daring its customers not to find it chic. Of all the things she didn’t want to be wearing right now, her chauffeur’s uniform was at the top of her list, especially since she’d sweated out the armpits under her suit jacket as she’d run from the parking lot.

Coop looked up. His lips formed a smile, but his eyes told her he’d noted the fact that she’d once again kept him waiting. The saleswomen regarded her with various degrees of incredulity, unable to believe someone so odd-looking could be with Chicago’s most eligible bachelor.

“Ladies, this is Piper,” Coop said. “She’s given up her career as a mortician, but she’s having a hard time breaking old fashion habits.”

Piper reined in a laugh.

“You’ve come to the right place,” an überstylish redhead said. “Working as a mortician must have been super depressing.”

“Not so much as you’d think,” Piper said. “That’s how I met Coop. Burying the ashes of his career.”

Coop snorted. The redheaded saleswoman clearly recognized she was in over her head and hustled Piper toward a dressing room.

“Nothing too crazy,” Coop called out. “She’s got enough of that going on in her head.”

The first dress was a drab forest green, but there was nothing drab about the skintight fit or the hemline, which barely cleared her butt. Thankfully, she’d shaved her legs, but still... “This isn’t exactly my style.”