Day two of house arrest in the Sterling penthouse began with Genevieve, Julian’s terrifying French lead stylist, torturing my face at seven in the morning.
“If you move your cheekbone one more millimeter, Miss Fox, I will contour your eyelids shut,” Genevieve had warned, aggressively blending high-definition prosthetic cheek-lifters, strategic wrinkles, and sharp grey eyebrow arches onto my face.
By eight thirty, the transformation was complete.
From the neck up, I looked like Lady Sterling: a terrifying, ultra-wealthy matriarch who drank the tears of her enemies and had silver-streaked hair styled into a sleek aristocratic updo.
From the neck down?
I was wearing a trendy, oversized silk graphic tee, grey sweatpants, and six-inch designer heels while trying to learn high-society posture.
“Step, turn, hold,” I muttered under my breath, gliding down the long marble hallway with a thick leather book titled Lineage and Etiquette of the European Elite balanced on my head.
“Chin up.
Look at everyone like they owe you money and your lawyer is on speed dial.” Honestly, my internal monologue chimed in, if rich people spent half as much time enjoying their money as they do learning how to walk like silver-plated statues, maybe they wouldn’t be so insufferable.
Just as I reached the end of the corridor, the heavy double doors of the penthouse private elevator hissed open with a soft chime.
I froze mid-step.
A tall, dark-haired guy who couldn’t have been older than twenty stumbled out into the foyer.
He was wearing an absurdly expensive designer silk shirt half-unbuttoned, dark sunglasses indoors at eleven in the morning, and holding a half-empty bottle of sparkling water like it was a lifeline.
He took three shaky steps, stopped, and groaned, clutching his forehead.
“If Julian’s assistant calls my mother before noon, I am legally fleeing the country…” He trailed off, his eyes slowly adjusting to the hallway light until they landed straight on me.
More specifically, they landed on a terrifying, silver-haired Monaco matriarch wearing a thousand-dollar silk graphic tee, sweatpants, six-inch stilettos, and a three-pound history book balanced on her head.
For three whole seconds, the building was dead silent.
Well, my inner voice squeaked, red warning lights flashing across my mental control room.
System breach!
Who is this hangover on legs, and why does he look like he just got kicked out of a VIP lounge in Ibiza?!
The guy slowly pulled his dark sunglasses down to the bridge of his nose, staring at my intensely contoured, aristocratic face in absolute horror.
“Aunt…
Aunt Sterling?!” My brain slammed into high gear.
Aunt Sterling!
He sees the full face makeup and the silver hair!
Act natural, Roxie!
Channel your inner terrifying matriarch before this kid notices your sweatpants!
I didn’t lose my balance.
I slowly reached up, snatched the heavy etiquette book off my head with a sharp flick of my wrist, and tilted my chin up to a ninety-degree angle, glaring down my nose at him.
“And who,” I projected in my deepest, raspiest, smoke-and-velvet Lady Sterling voice, “gave you permission to stumble into my presence smelling like cheap champagne and poor life choices?” The guy visibly flinched, pulling his sunglasses completely off.
His eyes widened in pure terror as he took in my razor-sharp cheekbones and ice-cold glare.
“I—Aunt Sterling!
I didn’t know you were in the country!
I thought Julian was just lying to the press to scare the board!” “Julian does not lie about me,” I snapped coldly, taking two deliberate, terrifying steps toward him in my six-inch heels, letting the red soles clack against the marble with lethal authority.
“And I certainly do not tolerate trust-fund toddlers turning my nephew’s penthouse into a recovery ward for your irresponsible social life.
What is that shirt?
Are you attempting to trend, or did you sleep in a hamper?” “I am so sorry!” he stammered, holding his hands up defensively.
“I’m Leo!
Julian’s cousin!
I was just…
hiding from my financial advisor!” Leo, my brain filed away instantly.
Okay, note taken: Leo is the black-sheep cousin with trust-fund problems.
Time to boss him around.
“I do not care if you are the Prince of Wales,” I said, putting a hand on my hip and pointing an accusing finger at his rumpled shirt.
“Look at you!
Trying to match my casual elegance with that tragic outfit?
Go into the kitchen, drink three glasses of water, and pick up those throw pillows you nearly knocked over with your chaotic entry.” Leo didn’t even argue.
Terrified of the legendary Monaco matriarch standing in front of him, he practically scrambled toward the kitchen counter like a scared puppy.
“Yes, ma’am!
Immediately, Aunt Sterling!” I stood in the hallway, clutching my heavy etiquette book, my heart hammering against my ribs while a massive, secret grin fought to break through my heavy prosthetics.
Oh, this is way too much fun, my inner theatre major cackled, throwing imaginary confetti.
The makeup is so good he actually believes I’m his terrifying aunt!
I am currently bossing around a multi-millionaire playboy, and he is actually picking up pillows!
Give Genevieve an Oscar right now!
“Leo.” The deep, low voice echoed from the home office down the hall.
Julian stepped out into the main living space, dressed in his classic, razor-sharp charcoal suit, his dark eyes instantly locking onto the scene.
Leo froze mid-gulp of water, looking between Julian and my contoured face like he was caught between two apex predators.
“Julian!
I was just…
Aunt Sterling was just giving me some family guidance on my wardrobe choices!” Julian looked at Leo’s disheveled state, then slowly turned his gaze to me.
His eyes swept down—taking in my razor-sharp matriarch makeup, the sleek silver updo, the oversized graphic tee, and the triumphant, haughty smirk still plastered across my face.
A quiet, unreadable spark flickered in Julian’s eyes.
A tiny muscle in his jaw twitched as he fought down what looked suspiciously like another rare laugh.
“I see,” Julian said smoothly, stepping closer to where I stood.
He didn’t break eye contact with me for a single second.
“I’m glad to see Lady Sterling is already establishing discipline in the household.” He stopped right beside me—so close that I could feel the solid, steady warmth radiating from his suit jacket.
Danger zone again, my brain whimpered as my pulse took an involuntary sprint.
He’s doing the close-proximity thing again.
Why does he keep standing in my personal bubble?!
Is my personal bubble listed under Sterling Group property?!
“She’s…
very intense,” Leo whispered, slowly backing toward the private elevator.
“Even in casual clothes, her glare is terrifying.
I’m just gonna…
go change downstairs.
Nice seeing you, Auntie!” The elevator doors chimed and slid shut, leaving Julian and me standing alone in the massive marble hall.
I let out a huge breath I didn’t realize I was holding, dropping my ‘Lady Sterling’ posture and groaning dramatically as I slumped against the wall.
“I deserve a raise,” I declared, holding up five fingers.
“That was at least a five-thousand-dollar performance.
Genevieve’s contouring just saved my life.” Julian turned to face me fully, leaning one shoulder against the wall.
The stoic CEO mask was completely gone, replaced by that dangerous, quiet warmth that made my knees feel like jelly.
“You handled him surprisingly well,” Julian remarked, his voice dropping into that quiet, velvet tone.
“Leo hasn’t listened to a single person in this family for five years.” “That’s because nobody criticized his fashion choices in a proper raspy tone,” I said proudly, tapping my chest.
“It’s all in the delivery, Mr.
Sterling.” Julian looked down at me, his gaze lingering on my face—taking in the dramatic contrast between my terrifying matriarch makeup and the playful, genuine laugh in my eyes.
He reached out, his l fingers lightly tapping the edge of the heavy etiquette book still in my hand.
His knuckles accidentally brushed against my thumb.
A jolt of pure heat zapped straight through my hand, making my breath hitch instantly.
System shutdown!
my brain shrieked, red lights flashing everywhere.
Sensory overload!
He touched my thumb!
Why am I freaking out over a thumb touch?!
I am a professional actor!
“Keep practicing your posture, Roxie,” Julian said softly, his dark eyes searching mine for a long, quiet beat before he pulled his hand back.
“The boardroom elders won’t be as easily terrified as Leo.” “Let them come,” I squeaked out, quickly clearing my throat to hide the sudden cracking of my voice.
“I’ll have them redesigning their outfits by lunchtime.” Julian offered me another micro-smirk, turned on his heel, and walked back toward his office.
I stood there alone in the hallway, clutching the heavy book against my chest like a shield, my heart thumping so loud I was convinced the penthouse smart-sensors could hear it.
Oh no, I thought, leaning my head back against the wall with a quiet gasp.
This is getting dangerous.
The makeup might be fake, but why does my heart feel like it’s auditioning for a real romance movie?!
Grab your popcorn!
Chapter 20 brings you six-inch heels, graphic tees, high-stakes prosthetic makeup, and Roxie accidentally adopting a trust-fund puppy (err, cousin).
Enjoy watching her handle the Sterling family chaos!