He stepped closer and just like his boss, froze.
Richard also leaned in closer then blinked, once, twice—because what he was seeing didn't make sense. The skin beneath where he'd wiped wasn't just clean, but it was completely different.
He resumed wiping again but this time, it was firmer and more deliberate. And just as he'd imagined, like an onion bulb being peeled back one layer at a time, more of the toned complexion that he'd known Shantel Hale with came away on the towel, revealing beneath it a stunningly smooth, milky-white complexion. It was so pale and impossibly flawless, that it could've belonged to an entirely different person.
"What the hell…" he whispered as his heart beat increased. "If the toned skin is fake, what else is real about her?"
He stared down at her sleeping face—half Shantel Hale, half someone else.
