DAMIEN: Book 2 of The De Luca Brothers Series [COMPLETED]

5:

"You don't have a massive selection of date-worthy clothes, do you?" Morgan rhetorically asks, analysing my clothes on full display. "Like, you have leather and latex dresses for clubbing and then you have nun clothing for... well, I suppose not being a nun." She states, glancing for a moment at my stomach before containing pursuing my limited selection.

"So sorry, I didn't realise I was going on any dates," I mutter bitterly, remembering my promise to myself when I first moved here.

"Alright hormonal mother to be, we're looking for clothes that scream 'available' but 'I ain't a hoe', you get me? You get me."

Zac chuckles and shakes his head, "If needs be I can quickly run to the shops and buy a casual dress for her."

"No!" I exclaim, before wincing at my own voice. "No thank you, I don't want to be in debt."

"You're not in debt since you're family— sorry, family to be," he winks teasingly, however that only worsens my mood.

Don't get me wrong, I appreciate their attempts of creating a stronger relationship between Gufo and I, however his reaction last night is enough for me to realise how he may not be in our child's life, despite him impregnating me in the first place. He didn't mention anything, said it was my choice but he didn't say that he would be involved. That admittedly scares me; can I picture Gufo being father material as he skips around with a gang and spends his late hours in strip clubs? Says the stripper. Gah!

"Oh! I found a possibility. It's a bit skimpy, but if we pair this short, black dress with this green fleece, she could pull it off with these leather heeled boots!" Morgan squeals in pure joy as she pulls out one of my stripper dresses.

"You're dressing me to look like a hooker," I mumble, pinching the cloth between my fingers.

"I have to work with what I've got," she huffs. "Plus if we do your makeup nice, people may not mistake you as a prostitute. Maybe as an escort or something."

I grimace at the thought, before begrudgingly taking the clothing and stepping into my narrow bathroom. I squish myself into the dress which hugs my thick thighs tightly, emphasis my ass but covers my chest moderately. Shrugging on the oversized fleece, it reaches bellow the dress and provides me little coverage for my skin shown. The heeled boots elongate my legs, causing the illusion that I'm actually tall; that I am not.

I open the door and grimace at Morgan's scream. Does she ever just stop? I wish she had a mute or off button. She tugs my hand and whips out her curling iron and makeup bag, slamming it down on my mattress before pushing me down, kneeling in front of me with a long of concentration. After nearly thirty minutes of hair pulling, eyelash curling, face pounding and utensils appearing out of the blue, Morgan claims she's complete and promptly stands up to admire her works. Zac nods his head in approval, "Looking good Chloe."

I flush but brush off the compliments, staggering up straight before marching into the bathroom and shutting myself in. I turn and face the cracked mirror and I swear, my heart stops for a second. As a stripper, you are to make yourself appear as the epitome of every man's dream, from having makeup to make you look sexy, or you hair to make you appear like a wet dream- Morgan was able to incorporate that smouldering essence with a light, almost breezy feeling.

She's only used concealer, set with powder and done my brows to make them seem fuller naturally. My eyes have long lashes with a slight smokey eye to make my eyes seem wider, causing the green to pop out more. My hair is curled effortlessly and sits promptly around my shoulders, bouncing slightly. I bite my lip and my eyes prick in memory when I used to look like this on the daily, not like a slut or a tired girl. A happy, pretty woman.