Page 105 of Pink

TWENTY-ONE

“MARLA IS planning on flying in because of the latest mess. She’ll be here to handle the rest of the PR and whatever else comes up between now and the walk, Gi.”

From the pedestal where Gigi stood in nothing but a pair of white cotton panties as a woman moved from one body part to the next with a measuring tape, she winced at her assistant’s latest update on the situation. Or that’s what every member of her team was calling the latest round of lies to get plastered across the media.

“Yeah?” Gigi asked.

“At least this time she didn’t waste time ragging you out on the phone?” Kayla asked, shrugging while still staring down at the phone in her hands. “Better for her to be here with the rest of the team than overseas yelling into a speaker, I guess.”

That wasn’t a consolation to Gigi because one way or another, she would still feel the agency’s wrath. Whether it was a forced interview or a social media blackout. Hell, someone had even gone as far as to suggest maybe Gigi shouldn’t walk in this year’s Fashion Week because she had drawn far too much negative attention to herself which was taking away from the major event itself.

As it was, her manager no longer even bothered to call her to overlook statements they were making on her behalf. She hadn’t gotten a peek at her social media feeds in far too long to see how her fans had reacted to the latest attempt to connect her career to the mob beyond just her private relationship with Lev, but maybe that was for the better.

She couldn’t focus on all of that mess right now. Not when she was set to walk the runway for one of America’s top names in fashion in two weeks. Not just walk, no, but open and close the show for the brand. It was too fucking important. A goal she had been striving to achieve for years and was now finally looking down the barrel of her dream while the rest of the world tried to explode around her.

The thing was … Gigi had come to a realization of sorts as she moved from one appointment to the next over the last couple of days while final preparations came together for her, the team behind her, and the rest of the models taking part in the same show.

What happened after she hit her goal? Once she achieved the dream?

Where did she go from there when she was already at the top? Not having an answer to that question or a clear outlook on what she wanted to do when she also knew her contract with the Paris agency—and her mother agency, too—was coming up for renewal.

What was left other than the next sponsorships, brand deals, and more people telling her what she could and couldn’t do?

“Well,” the girl who had been taking her measurements said as she took a step back from Gigi, “I think we’re just about done. I’ll take in the two centimeters on the waist of your garments—your gown for tomorrow night’s event is going to need correcting as well. It’s not like you to fluctuate, is it?”

Gigi let out a slow breath, asking, “Stress?”

Across the room, Kayla laughed out, “Or lots of good sex.”

“Kayla!”

“Sorry, sorry,” her assistant said, her palms flying up in surrender. “I couldn’t help myself.”

Picking up the tablet she had discarded earlier when she started one of the final rounds of Gigi’s measurements, the woman said, “Couldn’t imagine having that much sex.”

Well …

“Maybe you’re not having the right kind of sex,” Gigi replied.

That comment had the woman’s cheeks pinking. Gigi regretted nothing. Lately, there were a lot more people on her team and in her work circles that thought they could speak out of turn about the things they were seeing in the media.

She had news for them.

It was not up for discussion. Not unless she brought it up. Otherwise, she didn’t have a problem with putting anyone in their place if they needed it. Just like today.

Stumbling over her words, the woman tapped her fingers to the screen of the tablet and quickly said, “Yes, that’s about it. Your gown will be sent over to the hotel in lots of time for the event tomorrow. And I was told to ask what you wanted to wear for the afterparty—”

“I won’t be attending.”

The woman glanced up. Even Kayla looked her way, surprise flitting over her features. Gigi understood the reaction. If there was anything she was known for, it was her enjoyment of what came after events and shows. The parties were usually the best. One of the few times she could let loose without fear of reprisal because everyone did the same thing. They worked hard, and partied harder.

And yet …

“I think I might just call it an early night,” Gigi lied.

Bullshit.

The truth was she could waste hours at an afterparty watching models get turned up on whatever the latest craze was—probably a new e-pill—or she might be able to get some time with Lev. Considering the extent of their conversations over the last week since a hoard of asshole paparazzi showed up at his kid’s daycare had been mostly through text and a couple of late-night phone calls, well … she needed more.