Abandoned Luna Now Untouchable (Cecilia) novel Chapter 334

Chapter 334: Chapter 334 Behind the Masks

Cecilia’s pov

I watched Tang carry Yvonne down the stairs, her silk robe trailing behind her like she was a fairy-tale princess being rescued.

She kept "accidentally" brushing her fingers against his shoulder.

I definitely noticed.

The east sitting room didn’t look anything like it did last winter.The minimalist white couches from her holiday party were gone.

Now it looked like a private boutique: full-length mirrors, a curtained-off changing area, and mannequins modeling evening gowns straight off a runway.

I sank into the velvet sofa while Tang gently placed Yvonne next to me.

Mission complete, he claimed a corner chair, popped in his earbuds, and vanished into whatever game had his attention today.

Ever the professional. Always present, never in the way.

Yvonne leaned in, her voice low and smug.

"Tang carried me all that way without breaking a sweat. Strong arms, excellent stamina. You noticed, right?"

I gave her a look. The kind that said: I know exactly what you’re doing.

She smiled, all wide-eyed innocence, and batted her lashes like a B-movie starlet.

"I’m just making an observation," she added sweetly.

I didn’t buy it for a second, but I let it go.

Just then, I heard footsteps coming down the hallway.

The butler reappeared, flanked by what could only be described as a full-on fashion entourage.

At the front was a slender man in a blush-pink button-down, skin-tight designer jeans, and a scarf that probably cost more than three months of my salary.

His bleached-blond hair was styled in perfect chaos, and his tortoiseshell glasses clung to the tip of his nose like they were hanging on for dear life.

George had arrived, complete with four assistants and three rolling racks of clothes.

The second he saw Yvonne lounging in her robe, he gasped like she’d just stepped out of a Vogue editorial.

"Oh. My. GOD! Yvonne, darling! Your skin is illegal. No way that’s natural. You’re glowing. You look sixteen. I hate you. I hate everything. "

His compliments came fast and loud, like confetti cannons on New Year’s Eve.

Yvonne soaked it up like a cat in a sunbeam.

"You’re ridiculous," she said, grinning. "Keep going."

After five full minutes of high-volume praise that made me want to stuff cotton in my ears, they finally turned to the actual clothes.

One of his assistants had a razor-sharp bob and a face that could win a staring contest with a mannequin.

She started presenting each piece like it belonged in a glass case at the Met.

"This collection is inspired by Mediterranean sunsets and coastal elegance," she said, holding up a flowing coral gown. "Note the asymmetrical hem and hand-beaded bodice."

Yvonne leaned closer, eyes sparkling like she’d just spotted dessert on a diet.

"We’re trying everything," she whispered, already reaching for my hand. "No complaints."

She picked a bold red dress with cutouts in all the dramatic places.

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