Chapter 1 #2
I’d tried to tell her that once before, and all it did was stir up anger. And questions. Questions I wasn’t allowed to answer. Which only hurt her more. So I’d play it off and tell her what she wanted to hear.
“Are you kidding me?” I asked. “After two months?”
“Fastest DG model to rise through the ranks, second only to—” She booped me on the nose, “—you.” She gave me a sad smile. “Too bad we can’t all have your genes. Or Nessa’s deep pockets.”
I squeezed Fallon’s hand. “Let me talk to Cecil. He’ll listen to me.” I only said it because it was what a friend should say in a moment like this.
“He won’t,” she said, defeated. “Besides, I want to earn it.”
I glanced across the table at Riley. Like Fallon, she deserved the bump more than Nessa.
And like Fallon, she put on a normal face, pretending it didn’t stab.
I hated that it hurt them, but I still sent a silent prayer of thanks into the universe.
I felt like a mama hen, wanting to tuck these girls under my wings and hide them from the world.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out. Speak of the devil… The constant background anxiety in my gut cranked up to full volume. A text or call from Cecil always did.
Cecil
You’re pushing your bedtime. Best to start heading to your apartment now. You don’t want to have bags under your eyes tomorrow.
My teeth ground together as I fought the urge to turn off my location. It was a little past nine, for crying out loud. Suddenly, I wanted to go clubbing till two a.m. just to spite him.
Do it! The spitfire part of me said. While you’re at it, hand in your resignation.
Resignation? The more practical part of me said. There is no resignation. You’re stuck. May as well change your name to Mitch McDeere. They own you for life.
Mitch McDeere figured a way out; you can too.
But I’d tried. Had at least three lawyers look at my contract. Each said they couldn’t help me. It was ironclad.
The thought of never getting out felt like being trapped under a frozen lake, clawing for air. It would take a literal miracle to free me from DayGlow’s shackles. If God were even real. I had serious doubts.
Just then, a purr rose from Nessa’s ample chest, yanking me out of my pity party. “Oh, yes,” she hummed. “Finally.” She licked her lips, her eyes dragging over someone as if shame were a foreign concept.
We all turned to see who could possibly elicit that kind of response.
A very tall ginger with the perfect amount of scruff, shoulders like they’d never known a desk job, and a jaw that had clearly won the genetic lottery sauntered toward us. And he was chatting with Declan.
“Oh. That must be my runway partner,” I said, suddenly breathless.
I’d met male models who made me want to fan myself. But this guy had lit a raging bonfire low in my belly. The fact that he was a redhead only made him hotter. Most guys couldn’t pull it off. But this guy? Was single-handedly fixing the stereotype.
“Not. Fair.” Fallon fake-cried as she low-fived me under the table.
“Come to Mama,” Nessa said in a silky voice that made me want to jump in front of this poor, unsuspecting man and shield him from whatever dark little fantasy she was cooking up. We redheads had to look out for each other.
Fifteen feet from our table, Ginger’s gaze lifted, and he scanned our group—from Briar to Riley to Fallon. When our eyes locked, he froze—his feet stopped, and his expression went slack. He looked like he was about to turn tail and run.
“Aw, snap,” Fallon hissed. “He’s been hit with the Serrant Stun. Composure force fields have been breached.”
Declan kept walking, while Ginger stalled out behind him, his confidence collapsing in real time.
“Crap,” I muttered. Fallon was right. Maybe I could salvage this. I slid a smile into place and gave him a small wave.
His face flamed almost as red as his hair, and his gaze bounced away. But that was even worse, because he stopped on Nessa… who was summoning him with a crooked finger, eyes greedy.
All the blood drained from his face.
“Declan,” I called. “You’re about to lose your guy.” I nodded past him.
He turned and headed back to Ginger. A hushed, tense conversation followed—hands thrusting, heads shaking. Not good.
Everyone at the table stared at me. Everyone except Nessa, who had pivoted fully toward them, chest front and center, offering what she clearly thought was her strongest asset.
“If she had any sense, she’d cover those things up,” I power-whispered to Fallon.
“It’s not her he’s afraid of. It’s you.”
“Well, she’s not helping,” I said.
Riley made an mmm-mmm-mmm noise. “Feel free to fake sick tomorrow. I will happily take your place. Pull a hammy. Pretend period cramps.” She pressed her hands together and bowed. “I will do your laundry for three months straight.”
“Back off,” Nessa snapped. “He’s going home with me. We have unfinished business.”
My stomach wrenched at the thought. That beautiful man should not be defiled by someone so skeezy. Also, I definitely didn’t want to walk the runway with a guy who’d just spent the night doing unspeakable things with Nessa.
“Wait. How do you know him?” Briar asked Nessa. “He does look familiar.”
“Yes, Nessa,” I said. “How do you know him?”
“We met on a Hollister shoot I did this summer,” she said in a duh tone. For the first time since Ginger came into view, Nessa dragged her eyes away to look at us. Her eyes stopped on me. “Don’t you all know who that is?”
“Should we?” Fallon asked as the four of us glanced at each other stupidly.
Nessa burst out laughing. “Yes, losers. That’s Griffin Dupree.”