I thought I’d be more annoyed with being Barrett’s plus one. He didn’t exactly ask nicely when he told me we’d be making our first public appearance tonight at the Top Dog Gala. Maybe I would be if I wasn’t in love with the gorgeous blue dress that I get to wear tonight. It’s backless and makes me feel sexy. And the fact that people will be showing up in half an hour to do my hair and makeup. I didn’t even get my hair done for prom. I don’t know why Barrett hates going to events. Dressing up is fun.

I pull the plug with my toes, a move I’ve mastered in less than forty-eight hours, and lift myself up and out to grab my bathrobe out of the warming drawer. Yes, this bathroom even has a heated drawer to put your towel or bathrobe into so it is toasty perfection when you get out of the bath or shower. Rose showed it to me yesterday and I nearly collapsed on the floor.

In the closet, I pull open the drawer I put my underwear in Thursday night. I move through the colorful array of options, cotton thongs, cotton boy briefs, lots of cotton. My eyes find that gorgeous blue dress again. This isn’t going to cut it. I slam it shut and move over to the next drawer. I already know what’s in it and when I saw it yesterday, I vowed I’d never touch it because who needs sexy silk and lace underwear when you’re fake dating Barrett, the Ice King? My hands move over the slinky material of a silk black thong. I snatch it up quickly, then slam the drawer. It’s for the dress. Nothing more.

The underwear aren’t the only items in the closet that aren’t mine. There are a few new dresses, wide leg trousers and blouse options, flirty skirts and tops, belts, shoes and the most adorable tank and shorts silk lounge set. It’s lavender, my favorite color. It’s sexy and chic and came with a matching fuzzy long-sleeve cardigan sweater. I stared at it for a good five minutes yesterday. It looks like a cloud and while I’m tempted to put it on now, I slip on the panties instead and retie my robe.

A minute later there’s a knock on my bedroom door and I open it up to find two men standing there. One that looks like a teddy bear with a beard and thick wavy brown hair and a thinner man with jet black hair that may be wearing eyeliner.

“Chloe?” they say in unison. “I’m Hans,” teddy bear says, “and I’m Franz,” the dark-haired man says, “and we’re here to primp you up!” they add together in some kind of accent.

“Franz?” I question. “Is that French?”