Chapter 40 Elliot #2
Inside the gala, everything was even more lively, making it very easy to get lost in the fuss.
But thankfully, I managed to locate my seat in the front row.
Since I didn’t come here to mingle, I sat down.
Assuming now would be a good time to read the program, I opened it and skimmed through it.
The first few paragraphs focused on Vito and his vision, then on his charity, and lastly on tonight’s show.
On the back side was a list with the names of the models, with Elliot’s being the first.
I couldn’t be prouder.
But then, another name caught my attention, the one written as the show’s producer:
Claudia Taylor.
Even though she went back to her maiden name, there was still only one Claudia Taylor who worked as a fashion show producer in this city.
Unease settled in my gut. Was Elliot worried I’d be upset they worked together? After all, this was the most reasonable explanation for his sudden change of heart. The sole reason I was bothered by it was thinking about his distress over working with my ex-wife, not mine.
Irritated, I placed down the program, then sat back in the chair and crossed my arms. I’d have to talk to him tonight and urge him to trust me more.
Not that he was to blame; after all, I was the only one at fault for putting this doubt in his heart, given how I’d acted in the beginning.
And while not entirely, I had changed since, and foolishly, I thought he’d seen it, too.
But at my age, I should know better than to assume my partner would miraculously see things the same way I did.
He and I saw the world so differently at times that perhaps I was being naive to think everything would always run smoothly.
The lights then went off, and the noises slowly died until the room fell silent. The stillness lingered for a few moments like a thick fog of suspense until the runway lit up, and there, right at the start of it, was Elliot.
The once stranger to this city was now in the midst of all the attention, with every single person in the room focusing on him.
After all, you’d be a fool not to stare at such beauty.
Dressed in a unique black garment, with his hair slicked back and golden jewels decorating his fair skin, Elliot was simply divine.
Only it wasn’t the clothes but the man and the way he carried himself up there with a confidence that almost made it seem easy.
His fierce demeanor, so different from his warm, gentle self, was captivating, drawing you into the show like a moth to a flame.
And the closer he got to me, the more restless I became.
Sitting on the edge of my seat, I held my breath, my eyes tracking his every move in fear I’d miss something.
And in those seconds I watched him walk down the runway, all I wanted was to get up there, rip those clothes off his body, and have my way with him for the whole room to see.
Silly thoughts of a man obsessed, but that was precisely what I was.
And then, almost as if sensing I was here, Elliot glanced down, and our eyes met.
My lips immediately formed a smile as excitement rushed through me like an eager child.
But then, it all came down, and by that, I meant Elliot.
Stumbling, he lost balance and was sent forward, falling flat on the runway with a loud thump that even the music couldn’t conceal.
I jumped to my feet as he attempted to get up, only to slip again. Seeing him struggle to get up, both palms flat on the slippery surface, physically pained me, yet before I could do anything, he was already back on his feet.
I hoped he’d glance my way so I could look into his eyes and see he was okay; only he didn’t, and instead, he started walking.
Limping would be more accurate, given how he could hardly put weight on his right foot.
The crowd moved on the second a new model came along, but not me.
I kept my eyes on Elliot until he disappeared backstage.
The second he was out of my sight, I moved my ass to go and find him.
Elliot
When you fall on the runway, it isn’t just a fall but a head-on crash at 120 km/h.
And like a complete amateur, I fell flat on my face in front of everyone, turning this moment into a living nightmare.
It was one thing to fail, but to do it in front of hundreds of people?
In front of Vito, the very man who’d given me a chance, and more importantly, Daniel?
I swallowed down the tears threatening to come out and, with the bit of dignity I had left, pushed myself back up from the floor. Only the ache in my ankle made me fall again.
My heart raced, every part of me trembling until I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
And with the crowd’s whispering and gasping—an even worse soundtrack to this already humiliating moment—I pressed my lips together, pushed through the pain, and got up.
My throat burned from my need to cry, but I wasn’t about to.
Over my dead body would I humiliate myself even more.
But knowing that one look at Daniel would make me burst into tears, I made sure to avoid him at all costs as I tried to walk as normally as I could.
My ankle hurt with each step, but it didn’t matter, and I finished the rest of my walk with my head held high like nothing had happened.
Only something did happen.
I failed.
I failed in front of the very people I wanted to impress, and a hundred more.