14. Scarlet
SCARLET
The past few days feel like a hazy blur.
I’ve barely stepped outside, choosing instead to stay curled up in the quiet of my apartment.
I cancelled the rest of my bookings for the next week, which is unusual for me.
I knew it would only be a matter of time before I got a call from the familiar number that usually appears on my phone for occasions like these.
“Is everything all right?” my coordinator asks gently.
If there’s one thing about The Network, it’s that they truly care about both their clients and their workers.
The moment I sent in my request to cancel my bookings, the phone rang because they wanted to check in on me.
“I just wanted to call and see if something has happened that we can help with.”
“All is fine, Tasha,” I tell her, even though the words feel heavy.
Tasha is kind, and she always tries to make things easy for me, but I can’t bring myself to talk about any of this.
There’s still one thing I need to take care of before I hang up and sink back into the safety of my apartment for the rest of the week.
“There’s just one thing I need done. I’d like to remove my availability to Mr. Fisher. ”
There’s a brief pause, followed by Tasha’s voice. “All right. You know that won’t be a problem, but may I ask why? If he’s done anything to make you uncomfortable, you only need to tell me. We take this very seriously.”
The back of my eyes begins to sting. What could I possibly say to her? That I let myself fall for someone I knew I should never get close to? That I broke a rule we have been warned about again and again? This mess is mine to carry, and mine alone.
“No. Of course not. He’s been nothing but a gentleman.
This is entirely my decision, Tasha, so please, I don’t want to cause him any trouble.
He doesn’t deserve that,” I manage to say, swallowing the knot rising in my throat.
I can feel more tears pushing forward, and I barely keep them from falling.
“In that case, I’ll put it into the system, and if you change your mind at any point, you can let me know.
” Her voice is gentle, almost understanding, and I’m sure she already knows exactly what’s going on.
It’s not the first time something like this has happened, and it definitely won’t be the last. Still, I never imagined I’d be the one dealing with it.
“Thank you,” I manage to whisper, my voice barely strong enough to form the words.
The call ends, and just like that, the conversation is over.
I sink onto the couch, with my stomach twisted into tight, painful knots.
I turn on another pointless show—something loud, and bright that should distract me—but nothing works.
My chest aches to the point where it’s hard to breathe, as if my heart has splintered into a thousand tiny pieces that I’ll never be able to gather again.
I tell myself I’m going to drown my feelings in a pint of ice cream, but before I can even get up, the doorbell rings. I frown, confused. I’m not expecting anyone today, and I definitely didn’t order anything, surprisingly so.
A small, foolish part of me dares to hope. Maybe it’s him. Maybe he came here to fight for us and to show me that what we have actually matters.
Maybe I’m not as alone as I feel.
I drag myself to the door, every step heavier than the last, and take a slow breath before pulling it open. That flicker of hope disappears as quickly as it had appeared.
It isn’t him.
It’s Jessie. Usually, seeing her would make me light up, since she’s one of my closest friends, but right now, disappointment slices through me so fast and so sharp it leaves me dizzy. I know I shouldn’t let myself hope for him in any way at all, but I can’t control it. Not for now, at least.
“Okay, we need to talk,” Jessie announces as she pushes her way inside, not giving me a chance to protest or even say hello. She spins around the second she’s in the living room, pointing a finger right at me. “You need to pull yourself together. You can’t keep going like this.”
I freeze where I’m standing, my mouth parting as I try to come up with something to say, but before a single word can leave me, she barrels on.
“I refuse to see you like this! I can’t handle it.
I already went through this with you once and, my God, I do not want to watch you go through it again, Scarlet.
” Her voice cracks just a little, enough to make my chest tighten.
“You know I love you, and you know I only ever mean well, but this …” She shakes her head slowly, almost helplessly.
“I’ve never seen you like this before. And it scares the hell out of me. ”
A long, shaky breath slips out of me. “I know. I know you’re right. I just … I don’t know what to do with myself. I know I messed up. I know I played with fire and got burned, and I have no one to blame but me. I’m just trying to figure out how to pull myself out of this mess.”
“It’s actually really simple,” she says, even though her tone tells me she’s fully aware of how complicated it feels to me. “You either fight for what you want … or you let it go.”
The words sink in, settling deep into the part of me that already knew the truth before she even said it. Painfully so, the answer comes to me within seconds.
It’s time to let go.
Two weeks of no contact with him have me feeling like I’m slowly losing pieces of my mind one by one, but I keep pushing through because what other choice do I have? I wake up every day, reminding myself that moving forward is the only direction available to me now.
The free time I usually have when I’m not working at The Network has become dangerous territory and an empty space where my thoughts like to spiral, so I’ve been stuffing every minute with something new.
I repainted my bedroom, bought a few new pieces of furniture, took up pottery, and made a decision I never imagined I’d make.
I’m going to start my own business. Something separate from The Network.
The Network will always have a place in my heart, always be the foundation that helped build me, and I’ll forever be grateful for everything it brought into my life … but I want something that’s mine. Something that belongs to me alone. And if there is ever a time to start working on it, it’s now.
Maybe it’s for the best, I tell myself. Maybe the universe has twisted and shifted exactly the way it was meant to, and I’m standing right where I’m supposed to be. The thought hurts, but I let it sit there for a moment before I force myself to breathe through it.
I’ve spent too many days curled up in sadness, too much time drowning in what-ifs and regrets. It’s enough. I have a website to build, ideas to organize, and a thousand tiny details waiting for my attention. I can’t afford to keep wasting time on self-pity.
I won’t let myself.
My brand-new determination barely lasts a heartbeat before my phone buzzes in my hand. The Network’s logo flashes across the screen. I’m not expecting any bookings, since I’ve been turning everything down, so I’m already ready to reject whatever got through—until I see the name.
Locke Stonebridge.
The owner of The Network himself is requesting a meeting with me.
My eyes practically leap out of my skull.
Mr. Stonebridge is hardly ever here. He has an entire team of assistants and coordinators to handle things, and they keep the whole place running like clockwork, but he’s the one who built it.
He’s the reason The Network even exists, and the one every single girl respects without question.
A small lump forms at the back of my throat as I stare at his name.
Panic tries to push its way up my chest, whispering that maybe my cancelled bookings have turned into a problem.
The Network gets a cut of everything we do, and I haven’t exactly been a source of income these past two weeks.
Maybe I’ve cost them more than I realized.
Focus, I tell myself, forcing a steady breath. The message says he wants to meet tomorrow afternoon at one.
The last—and only—time I saw him was the day I was hired. Every girl has to be personally approved by him, and after that, he stays in the background unless something major comes up.
I can only hope that this second meeting, whatever it’s about, will be just as pleasant as the first.
My throat feels uncomfortably dry as the elevator climbs toward the seventh floor of The Network’s building, where Mr. Stonebridge’s office is.
Ironically, while my mouth feels like sandpaper, my palms are drenched in sweat.
My breathing is shallow and uneven, like my nerves have taken over every part of me.
A loud ding breaks through the silence, announcing my arrival.
The doors slide open to reveal a long hallway covered in maroon carpet.
Elegant statues line both sides of the hall, and golden frames hold artwork that probably costs more than I make in a year.
My eyes drift from piece to piece, trying to distract myself, before I finally force my feet to move forward.
At the very end of the hallway is a door with a golden nameplate with Mr. Stonebridge’s name on it. I pause for just a second, then lift my hand and knock against the polished wood.
“Come on in, Scarlet,” a deep voice calls from inside.
I exhale slowly and push the door open. The office mirrors the hallway in every way—rich décor, plush carpet, and dark brown walls. The same artwork style continues here as well, tying everything together.
Once I drink in my surroundings, my gaze finally settles on Mr. Stonebridge.
At thirty-nine, he’s lean and undeniably fit, with short, salt-and-pepper hair.
A light stubble frames his jaw, emphasizing the strong lines of his face, and his dark hazel eyes, almost golden where the lamp hits, take me in.
He wears a black suit tailored perfectly to his shape and a vintage watch around his wrist. His expression is serious, but not harsh, instantly lifting the worry that I’m in trouble.
I close the door behind me carefully. He gestures toward the leather chair in front of his desk, and I move quickly, sitting with my hands folded neatly in my lap.
“Am I in trouble?” is still the very first thing that slips out of my mouth. The moment the words leave me, I want to grab them and shove them right back in. Heat rushes to my face. I must sound absolutely ridiculous. For a split second, I wish the floor would crack open and swallow me whole.
Mr. Stonebridge’s lips twitch slightly, like he’s holding back a smile. “No. You’re not in any trouble,” he assures me. “I just wanted to discuss some matters with you.”
The tightness in my chest only grows, squeezing a little harder. My palms are still embarrassingly sweaty, and a faint dizziness washes over me in the seconds before he continues. “I understand you’ve canceled several bookings for the next few weeks. I wanted to make sure everything is all right.”
I nod quickly, maybe too quickly. “Of course.”
“Good … good.” He leans back slightly in his chair. “I’ve also been informed that you fired Mr. Fisher as your client.”
My mouth opens on instinct, ready to explain myself, but he lifts a hand gently, continuing before I can say a word.
“That decision is entirely your own,” he says firmly.
“It’s no one’s business but yours. You’re free to release any client you choose.
The Network will never require you to see someone you don’t want to.
However …” His voice softens just a touch.
“I thought it might be relevant for you to know that Mr. Fisher has also ended his client status with our establishment.”
My knees weaken beneath me, just enough to make me grateful I’m already sitting. If I weren’t, I don’t know how I’d still be upright after hearing that. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stonebridge, for the loss of a client. I—”
“That’s not a problem,” he interrupts me yet again. “And it’s not why you’re here. I’m meeting with you as a personal favor to him. He requested this meeting. But whether you see him or not,”—he tilts his head slightly—“that’s entirely your decision.”
For a second, my mind blanks. After weeks of silence … he went to my boss? He tried to arrange a meeting through Mr. Stonebridge, of all people. It’s so absurd that it borders on laughable, yet somehow it fits—because if anyone would do something like that, it’s Knox.
Mr. Stonebridge taps his fingers lightly on a white envelope resting on the desk, then slides it toward me with a slow push. “He also asked me to give you this.”
I swallow hard, my pulse thudding in my throat as I reach for it. My fingers tremble slightly as I break the seal and pull out the small handwritten note inside. There are only a few words, but they hit me with enough force to turn my entire world upside down.
I’m choosing you. Will you choose me?