Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“Elle.” My correction makes Simone wrinkle her brow, so I add, “It’s my nickname. I prefer it.”
“Oh, got it. Elle, cute.” She waves her hand for me to hurry up. “Try it on.”
I hold up the first part of the uniform: a white bodysuit with a built-in bra. Once I have it on, the thin shoulder straps will crisscross in the back and dead-end at the base of my spine.
Winnie would wholeheartedly approve of it. She never failed to poke fun at my boring wardrobe. The never-ending mix of dull grays, sensible blacks, and blend-into-the-wall whites that fill my closet back home was enough to make her eyes bleed, or so she used to dramatically claim.
“I stuff mine up top a bit to ensure loads of tips, but you don’t need to worry about that,” Simone says with a wistful sigh.
“I’d give them to you if I could,” I tease.
I hold up the second part of the uniform: a translucent maxi skirt with an elastic band and a wide slit up the center. It’s decorated with gold sequins and fine glitter and it will cover absolutely nothing. My theory is proved correct when I look over to see a woman who’s already dressed. With every step she takes, the skirt billows out around her. It’s beautiful but also pretty risqué.
“What if I hadn’t waxed?”
Simone’s eyes widen in horror. “Dear god. Have you? There’s still time—”
“No worries. I’m all good. I just wasn’t expcting to wear so little on the job.”
She shrugs. “You get used to it. Here.”
She slips something onto my head, and I turn toward the mirror mounted in my locker to find I’m now wearing a gold headband with thin spikes jutting up like a sunburst. Once I’m dressed, the headpiece will help transform me into an Ibiza sun goddess. Or at least a sexy imitation of one…
A fissure of excitement races through me. This is so unlike anything I’d wear back home.
“I love it.” Especially how it contrasts against my dark hair.
“Cool, right? I love our uniforms. Some of the other clubs make the girls wear the ugliest stuff, like hideous fur-lined bikinis. Remember those, Annika?”
Once I’m dressed and I’ve slipped into a pair of strappy gold heels, I decide it’s probably best that I don’t look in the mirror. I don’t want to worry about the amount of skin I’m showing, and I can kind of delude myself into thinking it’s not so bad if I don’t have proof otherwise.
I carefully apply my makeup, Annika shares her body lotion with me, and Simone fixes my gold headband.
“Do I look like I belong?”
The two of them share a glance, and then Simone shakes her head. “Honestly, babes? You’re destined to stand out. Now let’s go. Annika’s going to be training you, but I’ll walk you to your station, and I’ll be around all night if you’re lost or need a break.”
We’re walking out of the locker room when another Aura girl, dressed in the same white-and-gold uniform, comes rushing past us. “Hate to break the news, but the boss isn’t here tonight.”
Annika and Simone both groan in agony.
I turn to Simone. “Hugo? He’s not here anymore?”
“Not Hugo!” Annika corrects impatiently.
Simone laughs and takes pity on me. “Hugo’s the general manager. Valentina was talking about the boss—the owner of Aura and every other decent club along this strip of Ibiza.”
“Don’t you worry about him, though, Elle. I’ve already claimed him,” Annika says coolly.
Simone snorts. “Like shite you have! Are you delusional? He doesn’t even know you exist!”
“YET!” Annika declares, jutting her chin out to show she’s not the least bit bothered by this minor detail. “That could all change soon. Next time he comes in, I could be assigned to his section. He’ll see me and fall head over heels.” She snaps. “Just like that.”
Simone pushes me onward. “Ignore her. Cristiano is not paying attention to us. He has his hands full with the endless parade of models that cling to his side like glue. That and making sure this place is running like a well-oiled machine. Still, he’s nice to look at. He’s so tall and fit. Ugh. He’s bloody gorgeous.” She shakes her head as if trying to free herself from the mental image of him. “But it doesn’t matter, you’ll be on the regular floor with the peasants until you get the hang of things, so you don’t have to worry about him distracting you.”
Disappointment furrows my brows. With the way they’re going on about him, I’d like to at least see the guy. But my sulk fest doesn’t last long; the moment we arrive at the top of the stairs and step out onto the club floor, Annika starts her rapid-fire training session. Holy cow, the girl can talk fast. I’m wishing I’d downed an espresso shot or at least brought along a notepad and pen. Not that this uniform has pockets…