Gillian's POV
I stood in front of the mirror, hating the balloon dress that a stupid woman made me wear. It tightened my diaphragm and exploded from my pelvic bone as if I was standing under a blowing fen. This is utter nonsense. Who would wear such a heavy fabric?
"Miss, you need to stand still so I can tie your dress nicely." The petite, dark tanned, blond girl spoke in a huff.
"I think I am fine with it the way it is. Besides, I plan to get out of it soon," I growled, making her raise her hands in the air in surrender. "How much are you getting paid to do this, anyway?" I asked.
"I don't have to answer that since my expertise is for royals, not commoners." She mumbled.
I sneezed when the so-called make-up artist put a powder on my face.
"Why do I even bother?" I snarled.
How does
