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I knew what I wanted as my showstopper—the exact look, the exact color, the exact styling, and the model to wear it.
Lizzy.
Turning, I rushed back to the table where a server stood next to Oliana.
“Do you mind if I grab that pen from you and take a few of your napkins?” I asked the pretty brunette, who looked at me as if I was nuts.
She nodded and handed me the items, not saying anything.
I pushed aside the drinks and appetizers, set the napkins before me, and began to draw out the ideas buzzing in my head.
“Are you fucking kidding me right now, Sophia?” Oliana grabbed for my pen, but I dodged her.
“You said a break would help me. Well, it did. I’m inspired. Now let me work.”
“Fine. I’m going to find Nikki. He will keep me entertained. You are boring.”
“Yes, go. Let him convince you to have another baby.”
She stomped her foot. “I said no. He gets no more babies. Five is enough.”
I couldn’t help but smile as she stalked off with a scowl. I continued to work on the beginnings of my masterpiece with two thoughts running through my head. First, I planned to blow everyone’s socks off when I presented this piece. And second, no matter how much I wanted to deny it, Damon was my muse for the collection.
The sensuality, energy, and essence I threw into the creative process came from the emotions I experienced with Damon. Meeting him opened up a doorway inside of me, and I couldn’t lie to myself and say it wasn’t worth it, even after going through all the heartache. There wasn’t any way to separate my life from my art.
I had no idea if Damon and I had a future, but he’d changed me.
I stared down at the beginnings of the design and grinned.
Fucking beautiful.
Well, I guessed there was only one choice—I had to invite him to the show. The big question was, would he attend?
* * *
“Get it together, Sophia,” I mutter to myself as I walk into the tower that houses Damon’s office and his penthouse.
Maybe if I hadn’t waited three full weeks since that night with Oliana and Karina at the club, I wouldn’t have felt so nervous about extending an invitation to my upcoming fashion show. It wasn’t like me to put things off.
Why was I being such a chickenshit?
Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Who was I kidding?
It felt surreal stepping into the lobby after all that had happened between us. I no longer lived with the enigmatic man who occupied the three-story ice palace that sat atop this building.
Calling it an ice palace was too harsh. Damon’s home needed warmth and color to feel welcoming. The clean lines of his architectural project had pushed their way into the styling of his residence, giving it a cold, sterile feeling.
During the few short months I lived with him, I’d added small touches of my flair. It seemed to have softened the starkness of the giant penthouse.
I abruptly stopped as I approached the restricted access area of the building, pivoting to use the public elevators.
I no longer had the right to use Damon’s private facilities.
Security knew who I was and probably wouldn’t have said anything if I used it. But it felt wrong considering how I ended things with Damon the last time we were together.
My heart ached. For all that we were, all that we could have been, all that we lost.
I was here because of that night we spent together and the things Damon and I had done.
