Page 70 of Pink

FIFTEEN

THEIR CONVERSATION and drinks at the bar quickly moved to the single dartboard that sat alone and unused twenty feet behind an equally lonely-looking pool table. She didn’t mind the change in scenery as less people watched them, and the bartender had finally quit trying to jump in on their chat.

“Why Gigi Rey anyway?” Lev asked.

Trying to balance the dart in her hand the same way Lev had done when it was his turn to take shots at the board ten feet away on the wall, Gigi shrugged. “I was told it looked better on a cover than Gigi Rey Parker.”

She took her shot.

And failed terribly.

The damn dart didn’t even hit the multicolored board but rather, the wall underneath it. She flinched at the sight of the silver dart sticking out of the wall almost haplessly, nearly ready to tumble to the floor but managing to somehow hang on.

In a way, it felt like a shitty euphemism for her current life. She was just like that dart being thrown by hands that had no idea what to do with her and sometimes she stuck in and held on, and other times she crashed and burned.

“That was … bad,” Lev said behind her, chuckling.

She might have felt some kind of way for his teasing about her horrible dart skills, but he wasn’t wrong. Also, she had forgotten just how much the sound of his voice was like a drug to her senses. Made of all bass, his deep tenor could easily make the rest of the quiet bar disappear around them when he talked.

She liked that just fine.

“So, they just picked your name?” he asked.

Gigi rested her hands to her waist, still annoyed at how bad she was at this game while she surveyed the dart that was nowhere near where it needed to be. “Like most everything else, yeah. I mean, I’m at a level now where I can push back. It helps too that the agency knows my renewal is coming up, so they’re more likely to please me than piss me off. But mostly, I signed away any right to refuse what my agency chooses for me to do or look like. Even this hair, you know?”

To make a point, she flipped a hand through the loose waves of her dark blonde hair with the faded pink tips.

“What about it? It’s cute, babe. Very … you.”

She preened.

Compliments in her business were a dime a dozen. Being on magazine covers and in front of millions daily either by way of social media or whatever the case may be, Gigi had become a little numb to people praising her beauty and surface style. Because that’s all it ever was … the things on the outside.

Lev’s compliments didn’t feel the same. She wanted more just like the first time they met. He always left her wanting more in one way or another.

“Thanks,” she said, “but this hair cost me a fifty-thousand-dollar fine for violating a body modification clause in my contract and nearly cost me my upcoming walk for Fashion Week.”

“What kind of bullshit is that?” His entire frame turned her way, and his intense blue stare locked onto hers with a fire she hadn’t expected. He looked so irritated that she almost couldn’t even admire how gorgeous he was in his pressed, black slacks that hugged a narrow waist and muscular hips. Sweet Jesus, the man hadn’t changed a bit. He was still sex poured into the form of a man. “They tell you what you can or can’t do to your body—even your hair?”

“I mean, yeah?” She hadn’t meant for that to come out like a question, and yet it still did. “It’s basically how this works. They tell me who to be, where to go, and what to do when I get there.”

“Like the restaurant?”

Gigi let out a slow breath and a dry laugh. “Yeah, like that shit. I guess Jensen had been chasing my agency for the last six months to have a moment with me. That’s what the agency tried to call it when I went crazy over a conference call. I was then told it’s not unusual, Gigi, models do this all the time. Not me.”

“That guy is—”

“Dangerous, I know.” She folded her arms over her chest, adding, “I heard it from you. You didn’t say why.”

“I shouldn’t have to. He just is; leave it at that. Some things are better left unsaid. But really, normal?” he asked, giving her a look.

“Does it sound strange to you?”

“Entirely fucking weird, yes. Sorry to say it, but it does. A little.”

“It’s the business. I’m used to it.”

“I see you kept the hair, though.”