17. Clara
Chapter Seventeen
CLARA
Sitting outside one of the classrooms at the New York Institute of Fashion, surrounded by actual professionals and students who look like they were born knowing how to drape fabric, I am seconds away from throwing up all over myself.
I press a hand to my stomach and take a slow breath. I need to calm the hell down before I screw up what is essentially the opportunity of a lifetime.
My knees bounce up and down as I glance at the clock on the wall.
It’s two minutes to ten. Any minute now, that door is going to open, and they’re going to call my name and then there will officially be no going back.
“God, I can’t remember the last time I was this nervous. Oh, wait, yes I can. It was the exact moment before I pushed a baby out of my vagina.”
Rosa groans. “I did not need that visual. But in the grand scheme of things, this should be nothing compared to that, right?”
“I’m honestly starting to think that childbirth might be the easier choice here.”
Rosa chuckles under her breath as she smooths her hands over the skirt of her homecoming dress. We decided she should wear that, and I will hang the other one on the mannequin that will be provided.
“You’re going to rock this. Your work is amazing.”
I nod, even though my hands are visibly shaking. “All I have to do is smile, remember to breathe, and let the dresses speak for themselves.”
Rosa beams. “Exactly! See? You’ve already got the fashion school mindset.”
“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”
“Pretend you have all the confidence in the world even when you’re dying inside.”
I huff a small laugh as I grip onto the garment bag in my lap to try and keep my hands steady. But when my phone pings in my purse, I almost jump out of my skin, which causes Rosa to howl with laughter.
I’m glad one of us is enjoying this.
I almost drop my phone as I fish it out of my purse, my fingers trembling too much to work properly.
It’s a text from Marco.
My body relaxes and I take a deep breath as I read the message on the screen.
Marco
I’m not going to wish you luck because you don’t need it. This is your dream. Go get it so we can celebrate later. x
I can’t deny I was a little disappointed to learn that he couldn’t be here to wait with me.
After dropping Rosa and me in the city, he had to head straight to an important meeting that he couldn’t reschedule, but he promised to make it up to me later.
I smile at the message before switching my phone on silent.
Marco’s right. I’ve wanted this for so long, so I refuse to let my nerves ruin this moment.
A minute later, the door to the interview room opens, and a woman with dark crimson hair and thick black glasses pokes her head out, scanning the hallway before locking eyes with me.
“Clara Peterson?” She smiles. “We’re ready for you now.”
I nod as I get to my feet, clutching the garment bag like it’s my lifeline.
“Go kill it.” Rosa squeezes my arm.
I take another breath before walking into the interview room with Rosa behind me, telling myself over and over that I can do this.
My heart pounds in my chest as I set up my second design on the mannequin, feeling the eyes of the three panelists boring into my back. A thin sheen of sweat covers the back of my neck and hands, but it’s too late to back out now.
Thinking of Zoe and the future I want to give her, I plaster a confident smile on my face and turn to face the panelists.
The panel listens intently as I introduce my designs. Their eyes are sharp, taking in every stitch, every fold of fabric, every tiny detail I agonized over for hours.
One of the panelists, a tall, elegant woman with white-blonde hair, gets to her feet and walks over to Rosa. She traces her fingers over the hem of the dress, her red-painted mouth pursed.
“Incredible,” she murmurs, and I almost cry with relief. “It’s bold and edgy… Yet, there’s a softness to it. It’s hard to pull off such a balance, but it works. This dress really tells a story.”
Rosa looks like she’s going to explode with excitement, and I quickly shoot her a look to remind her to keep her mouth shut.
“That’s exactly what I was going for.” I try to keep my voice steady.
The woman nods, and I swear I almost faint on the spot.
Another panelist, a man with salt-and-pepper hair, tilts his head as he stands in front of the mannequin to critique my second look, the one I spent the entire night constructing from scratch.
“How much time did you have to put this piece together?”
I hesitate for half a second before deciding to answer honestly. “Twelve hours from coming up with a concept to finish.”
There’s a beat of silence, and I wonder if he’s about to berate me for doing such sloppy work. But then his lips curve into something that looks a lot like admiration.
“Twelve hours?” His fingers smoothing over the stitching. “And you pulled this off?”
I nod, my pulse hammering. “I didn’t have a choice. I only found out about the interview yesterday afternoon, so I worked with what I had.”
The redheaded panelist smiles. “A designer who can think fast and execute under pressure. That’s rare.”
There’s a murmur of agreement from the rest of the panel, and my throat thickens with emotion.
They truly like my work. Even if it’s not enough to get in, their approval still means the world. It has given me the confidence boost I needed to keep pushing forward.
They ask me a few more questions about my inspirations behind the pieces, and I let Rosa chime in to help explain how her dress came to life.
I talk through my process as well as how I see my work evolving over time.
When it’s over, the panelists thank me for my time, and I bag up my second dress and leave the room with Rosa tailing behind me, feeling lighter than I have in years.
The moment the doors close behind us, Rosa grabs my hands and squeals so loudly I think my eardrums might burst.
“Holy shit, Clara, that was amazing! They were eating out of the palm of your hand.”
“Shh!” I glance anxiously back at the door, but Rosa only laughs.
“That was incredible.”
“It did feel good, didn’t it?” A rush of adrenaline courses through me.
“It felt better than good!” Rosa throws her arms around me, hugging me tightly. “There is no way in hell you’re not getting into this course. You aced it.”
I shake my head, biting back a disbelieving smile.
I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but for the first time since I walked in here, I allow myself to hope.
Even if I don’t get in, there are more schools. And after their feedback, I’m definitely going to enroll in fashion school.
“Come on, let’s go and celebrate.” I link arms with Rosa, heading back outside into the warm summer day. “Where do you want to go?—”
My gaze locks onto something across the street. Or rather, someone.
Marco.
He’s leaning against his car with one hand in his pocket, looking sexy as hell.
The sharp cut of his black pants, the way his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows to expose his muscular forearms, the way his lips lift at the corners the moment we lock eyes.
Even after all this time, he still has the power to steal my breath away.
I think I might be more obsessed with him now than I was when we first met.
He stalks toward me, his lips pulling up into a wide smile. “I assume it went well?”
I nod at him, grinning like an idiot. “I think I might have actually pulled it off.”
Marco wraps an arm around me and pulls me flush against his body. “Of course, you did.” He leans down to press a soft kiss to my lips. “I’m so proud of you, love.”
His words send a shiver down my spine, and I’m about to part my lips to give him access to my mouth when Rosa starts making vomiting sounds beside me.
“Seriously? You guys are disgusting.”
Marco glances sidelong at her, completely unimpressed. “Remember I have the power to stop you from going to homecoming.”
Rosa scowls. “You wouldn’t dare.”
I shake my head. “All right, both of you, let’s play nice.”
“I have no intention of being nice,” Marco says under his breath with a wicked glint in his eye.
My cheeks burn, and Marco chuckles, which only adds to the heat coursing through my body.
How is it possible that he can turn me on so much without even touching me?
“So, are you going to come with me?” His voice is low and rough.
I blink. “What?”
“Tonight, we’re celebrating, just the two of us. I booked us the penthouse at the Plaza.”
“The penthouse ?”
“Only the best for my girl.”
“But, Marco, I don’t have anything packed…”
His eyes darken, his smirk turning into something wicked. “You won’t need anything.”
Rosa groans. “Okay, I’m actually going to throw up.”
Marco shrugs. “Fine, but don’t do it all over the inside of Jax’s car, he’ll be pissed.”
She grins. “Jax is coming to get me?”
Marco runs a hand over his face. “I swear you are going to be the death of me, little sister.”
“I know.” She flicks her hair over her shoulder.
Thankfully, Jax pulls up after a few more minutes to take Rosa back to Westchester.
I hand Rosa the garment bag with my other dress in and thank her once again for helping me.
Without her and Lila’s help last night, I’m not sure I would have been able to pull it off.
Marco steps up the driver's side window and to Jax’s horror, starts giving him a firm talking to regarding his baby sister and boundaries.
Rosa is in the back of the car swearing she will do much more than just kill Marco in his sleep.
I chuckle as the car disappears from sight. “I swear there’s never a dull moment with your family.”
“So.” Marco turns his attention back to me. “Are you coming with me willingly, or do I have to force you?”
My entire body flushes at his words.
That should not be hot, but it is.
I swallow, my heart racing as I imagine submitting to him.
A dull ache starts to spread between my thighs and from the smirk Marco is giving me, he can sense what his words have done to my body.
His fingers dig into my waist as his eyes graze over my body, lingering on the swells of my breasts.
“Is that what you want, Clara? To submit to me?” His voice comes out thick with need.
“Yes…”
Marco’s throat bobs, and my stomach flutters.
“Are you going to do exactly what you’re told?” He pulls me closer so that I can feel his hardness against my stomach.
“Does this celebration have anything to do with you calling in your payment for getting me the interview?”
“You didn’t answer my question, Clara.” His voice is laced with warning as he leans down to run the tip of his nose along my jaw.
I shudder as his breath tickles my skin, and for a moment, I forget that we’re standing in the middle of the sidewalk.
I arch into him.
“Answer my question.”
I grab him by the shirt and pull him closer. “Yes, I’ll do whatever you want.”
“Good girl.” He pulls away.
I swallow a cry as he laces his fingers with mine and leads me to his car.
At this point, I don’t even care where we’re going. I just want to get Marco De Luca naked.