Page 62 of The Daddy’s Girl

“I love it,” she interjects.

“You do?”

“Yeah,” she says with a shrug. “We’re always talking about wanting new ideas to expand our use of the club, and supporting a female-driven industry and one of our female owners is the exact thing we need.”

If my jaw was hanging any lower, it would be on my knees. “Well…it would be a small event. Invite only, I guess. We’d need some models…”

“My dancers could do it.” This time, it’s Elizabeth who drops into the conversation, and I stare at her for a beat too long, wondering which part of that sentence was supposed to be sarcastic, because none of it actually sounded so. And her being genuinely supportive just wasn’t on my radar.

“Really?” I ask.

“Oh, they’d love it,” she says. “We’ll have to pay them for their time, of course. But they’ll eat up any opportunity to do something different. And if you let them keep a few items, they’d be really excited.”

“Would that suffice for your visual project, Amelia?” Jack asks from the head of the table.

“Yeah, actually…it would.”

“Excellent,” he says as he gently shuts his laptop. “Why don’t the three of you work together on it? I think it sounds like a great idea.”

“Wow…thanks,” I mumble to myself. This didn’t go at all how I expected it to. As everyone packs up their things, I bite my bottom lip and stifle a smile. All the while, I can’t help thinking about how excited I am to tell Matis.

There is a roll of fuchsia fabric wrapped around my waist and about a hundred pins holding it in place when my brother walks into my office at the club.

“Don’t they have mannequins for that?”

“Come here,” I order him, ignoring his question. “Let me use you.”

He opens his mouth to argue but then closes it with a sigh. He pulls off his jacket and walks toward me with his arms outstretched.

From as early as I could remember, my brother was my only model. We used to raid our parents’ closets, and he would let me put together items on him like my own living doll. Dad’s neckties wrapped around Mom’s blouses. And even when he hated every second, he never complained.

As soon as I wrap the fabric around his waist, I realize it’s not going to work. It’s too stiff and doesn’t hang correctly on his narrow frame.

“I need something more drapey.” I tug off the fabric and start browsing through my collection in the large closet.

“I heard you had a date Saturday night,” he says flatly.

“Uh-huh,” I reply mindlessly.

“Is that why Matis carried you home at dawn?”

I freeze, my hand on a roll of purple silk. When I don’t respond for a moment, trying to quickly put together an innocent answer, my brother picks up on my hesitancy.

“I still have the doorbell app connected to my phone. You know Mom and Dad could never figure it out.”

“It was a double date,” I say casually, hoping it covers my nerves.

It’s not like Julian has any reason to suspect that I was making out with our godfather and felt him grope my ass.

But there’s something in the way he’s questioning me that sounds like suspicion. Like I’ve been caught.

“That’s a late date,” he states.

I spin around with a huff of frustration. “What is your point, Jules?”

His hands go up in surrender. “I was just curious. Why are you acting so defensive?”

“Because you’re acting so accusatory!” I bark at him.