Chapter 292: An American Daddy’s Girl

Zoe pushed the bedroom door open, hauling a black leather makeup case in her arms.

"Okay, so I brought the setting powder, the waterproof concealer, and the contour palette that basically gives you instant cheekbones," Zoe announced, dropping the heavy bag onto the coffee table with a loud thud. "Are we doing a dark lip or—"

"Shh!" Aria hissed.

She tackled Zoe, slapping a hand over her best friend’s mouth. Her eyes were wide, and she aggressively jerked her head toward the corner of the living room.

Zoe froze. She followed Aria’s frantic gaze.

Standing rigidly in the corner was Richard. He was facing the beige drywall with his hands clasped behind his back, perfectly still.

Zoe’s eyebrows shot up. She looked at Aria, silently screaming, ’What the fuck?!’

Aria slowly removed her hand from Zoe’s mouth. She pointed a finger at Zoe, then tapped her own pocket, pulling out phone.

Zoe’s phone buzzed in her pocket a moment later.

Zoe pulled it out, her eyes scanning the glowing screen.

[Aria: Code red. He refuses to leave, and blackmail didn’t work. I can’t do it.]

Zoe blinked, her thumbs flying across her screen.

[Zoe: So what are we doing?! The auction starts in two hours! Are we canceling?!]

Zoe’s phone buzzed again.

[Aria: We aren’t canceling anything. You’re going undercover.]

Zoe recoiled as if the phone had just bitten her. She let out a muffled squeak of pure terror, frantically shaking her head no with such violence her purple hair whipped around her face.

[Zoe: ARE YOU INSANE?! NO! I AM A PUBLICIST, NOT AN ACTRESS! I have zero poker face! If a rich, handsome guy even looks at me sideways I will immediately start confessing to crimes I didn’t even commit!]

[Aria: Stop being dramatic. You won’t be alone. We are doing an earpiece operation. Put your AirPods in and keep your hair down to hide them. I will be on an active call with you the entire night. I’ll be your guy in the chair. I will literally feed you every single word you need to say.]

Zoe stared at the screen, her chest heaving. She looked at Aria with pleading, desperate eyes.

[Zoe: Aria, I can’t act! I am going to sweat through my clothes and throw up on a CEO!]

[Aria: I will do your makeup so fiercely they won’t even dare make eye contact with you. Sit down and shut up. We have to move fast.]

Zoe let out a long, silent, defeated sigh that seemed to drain her very soul. She slumped onto the edge of the sofa, surrendering to her fate.

Aria immediately sprang into action. She moved with the skill of a seasoned Hollywood makeup artist as she circled her best friend.

Aria unzipped the garment bags Richard had hauled in earlier.

If she was going to bid, Aria had planned to wear a sleek, intimidating, dark Saint Laurent power suit. But Zoe wasn’t Aria. A dark, brooding European heiress aesthetic would look like a costume on Zoe’s vibrant, expressive personality.

Aria dug deep into the bags, pulling out the backup option she had purchased on a whim.

It was a Chanel-inspired, pastel-pink tweed skirt suit. The pleated mini skirt was very very short, and the matching cropped blazer had glittering pearl buttons. She grabbed a pair of tall, white Versace platform heels and a hot-pink Jacquemus micro-bag that was only large enough to hold a single tube of lip gloss and an attitude.

Aria shoved the clothes at Zoe, pointing to the bathroom.

Three minutes later, Zoe emerged.

She looked like a walking, talking Barbie doll with a trust fund. The fit was flawless.

Aria pushed Zoe back down onto the sofa and attacked her face with a damp Beautyblender.

The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the soft tap-tap-tap of the sponge and the occasional squeak of Richard shifting his weight in the corner.

[Zoe: NO. Absolutely not. I do not do contacts. I have a phobia of touching my own eyeball. I will blink. I will thrash. I will fight you.]

Aria lunged.

She pinned Zoe to the armrest of the sofa, prying her eyelids open with her left hand while Zoe flailed wildly, weeping silent tears of terror as she tried to escape.

Aria glared down at her, silently mouthing the words ’Stop moving or I will blind you’ while aggressively popping the first lens into place.

After five painful, sweaty minutes, Zoe was left panting against the cushions, sporting a pair of piercing, blue irises that completely transformed her face.

Next came the hair. Aria quickly slicked Zoe’s hair back into a tight wig cap, glued down the edges, and expertly secured the platinum blonde lace front. Suddenly, Zoe looked like a girl who summered in Cabo and only drank imported alkaline water.

Aria applied a sharp fox-eye eyeliner that pulled Zoe’s eyes into a judgmental slant, and overlined her lips with a glossy, plumping mauve tint. She dusted a layer of highlighter across Zoe’s cheekbones.

Aria stepped back, inspecting her canvas. She pulled out her phone.

[Aria: Let me hear your British accent.]

Zoe cleared her throat softly. She leaned forward, whispering quietly so that Richard couldn’t hear.

"’Ello guv’nor," Zoe whispered, sounding like a chimney sweep from a 19th-century play. "Would you loike a spot of tea with your crumpets?"

Aria cringed, her face scrunching up in revulsion. She frantically typed on her phone.

[Aria: Never, ever do that again.]

Zoe frowned, crossing her arms.

[Aria: We are pivoting. You are Tiffany. You are a spoiled, twenty-two-year-old American nepo-baby from Beverly Hills. Your daddy owns half of Aspen and you are only buying this media company tonight because you got bored of competitive equestrian.]

Zoe read the text. She understood that assignment. She had dealt with enough entitled Hollywood brats to know exactly how they operated.

[Zoe: Wait. The auction is ultra-exclusive. I don’t have an invite. They check IDs at the door for these closed-bid events.]

Aria smirked.

[Aria: I have that taken care of.]

"So," Aria asked. "How do you feel?"

Zoe slowly stood up from the sofa.

She turned to face the full-length mirror resting against the wall. She stared at her own reflection, that didn’t look like her at all.

Zoe tilted her chin up. She rolled her shoulders back, gave a slow flip of her hair, channeling her inner Sharpay Evans.

"Fabulous," Zoe smirked.