The Dark Glamour (666 Park Avenue 2)

risky.
    Her stranger’s name turned out to be André, and after the briefest of hesitations, he added that he was visiting from Romania.
    André was in town on ‘business’, but declined to add more. Jane, who suspected that he was deliberately trying to make her curious, refused to take the bait, instead chatting with him about the chic Upper East Side lifestyle that she decided Ella led. It was easy to fake both the experiences and the attitude after the time she had spent living with her impeccably upper-crust in-laws, and she even managed to spare some of her attention for evaluating her companion. The set of his jaw told her he was frustrated that she wasn’t swooning over his secretiveness, but she couldn’t help but be impressed by how still and neutral the rest of his body was. It reminded her of a cat, waiting and watching, and she felt flattered to be the object of such unwavering attention. Sure, most of it was due to her new body and face, but she reminded herself that her personality, her wit, and the way she carried herself were still her own. And André, no matter what had drawn him to her in the first place, clearly enjoyed all of those things as well.
Besides, it’s not like I was so painfully homely before,
she admitted to herself. Lynne Doran may have come up with a hundred inventive little ways to call her fat, but curvy, blond Jane had never lacked for male attention.
It’s just weird getting it for being someone else. My looks were
mine.
    ‘Baroness Medeiros,’ a timid voice whispered in Jane’s ear, and she startled a little. Fortunately, she had already swallowed enough of her drink to keep it from spilling over the sloping sides of the glass.
    She set it down carefully on the table between her and André, and although he stayed as still as ever, she was fairly sure that his eyes slid to the neckline of her raw silk tank when she leaned.
And me without my cleavage,
she griped silently, but André seemed to approve thoroughly of Ella’s smaller, more delicate breasts. Smiling a little to herself, she turned to the anxious-looking concierge hovering by her shoulder, who was quite plainly trying not to wring his hands. ‘Yes?’
    ‘Something has arrived for you,’ he managed to force out, holding out a single piece of creamy, heavy card stock in one lightly trembling hand.
That’s definitely not my calling cards.
As soon as Jane touched it, she recognized it unmistakably as Doran stationery. She had received dozens of notes like this in the mansion: phone messages, appointment reminders, and invitations/summonses from Lynne herself. Jane’s fingers began to tremble a little, too, as she took the card, but the handwriting inside was upright and loopy and totally unlike Lynne’s. She steadied her breath and made herself read.
    Dear Ella,
    Ran by Cenzo’s Papiro for my daughter’s birthday invites, and he was in the middle of engraving some absolutely gorge cards. I recognized your name, and would love to be the first to welcome you to the neighbourhood! Please meet me for dinner tonight. My number’s in your phone!
    – Laura Helding
    Jane fought the temptation to turn the card over, backward, upside-down. But it wasn’t in code and there were no hidden messages: she had just made it one step closer to her goal.
I wonder if ‘dinner’ is at the mansion,
she thought, but quickly reminded herself that she’d already had more than her share of good luck so far, and twenty-six and a half days to go with her disguise.
    ‘“Baroness Medeiros”?’ André purred, and Jane flushed.
    But my new skin shows it less,
she reminded herself sternly, and folded Laura’s note into her purse. She fumbled clumsily with the buckles, which she didn’t remember being nearly so complicated, and realized that she might be heading past ‘tipsy’ by now. She pushed the edges of the purse closed and turned her attention back to André. ‘It’s just “Ella” among friends,’ she told him lightly, remembering just in time that real royalty shouldn’t be self-deprecating. ‘Speaking of which,’ she went on, ‘I’m afraid I have some business to attend to this afternoon, and I really need to get going.’
Such as a cold shower, a hot cup of coffee or three, and picking out the perfect dinner outfit,
she added silently, but if André was going to be coy about his business, then she could be coy, too.
    The planes of his olive-skinned face registered what looked like genuine disappointment,