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“What’s that?”
“It’s the last model to show my most revered piece. It’s called Queen of Diamonds. I want you to be the woman to show it to the world.” He surveyed the empty audience before he turned back to me.
He wanted a rookie to do the most important part of the show? That sounded ludicrous. “I’m sure one of your other models has more experience for something like that…”
“I don’t want another model to do it. I want it to be you.”
“Why?”
He faced me, his dark eyes narrowed in sinister hostility.
I guess I shouldn’t have asked that question.
“It doesn’t matter why. You’re doing it—and you’d better not disappoint me.”
* * *
Milan was a beautiful city, full of timeless history and innate power. It was at the top of the country, close to the borders of France and Switzerland. I’d only experienced the far northern part of the country, not taking in the sights like Venice and Verona. But my short time here had shown me how special it was. America was twenty times the size of this place, but it didn’t have quite the same character.
It was easy to get lost in the beauty sometimes.
From my hotel, I could walk to anywhere I wanted. The large sidewalks and cobbled streets took me to markets, coffee shops, and small grocery stores where I could buy my necessities. And the view from my window, even though I didn’t face the countryside or the river, was still wonderful.
But it didn’t make me forget what I was running from.
Who I was running from.
Knuckles was one of the most ruthless criminal warlords in New York City. He was famous by name, but still untouchable by the police. That meant he had more power than anyone—if he didn’t have to hide his face.
Even if I’d called the police, they wouldn’t have done anything. They might have filed a report, but they wouldn’t have acted on it. And then they would have taken me into custody for failing to pay my property taxes and foreclosing on the enormous loan I had with the bank.
Fucking Nathan.
He fucked me over big-time.
Almost made me glad he was dead.
Almost.
Now that I’d been in Milan for a few weeks, I knew I had to embrace this new life. This was my home now. There was nothing waiting for me back home besides a few friends who probably wondered where I disappeared off to.
I was a lingerie model.
It was the last thing I expected to do for an occupation, but that didn’t matter. I was desperate, and desperate times called for desperate measures. I had to put aside my morals and values and do what was necessary.
So I kept my head high and moved on.
I went to work the next day, stepping inside the historical building that looked more like an art gallery than an office. In New York, all the skyscrapers looked the same. Some were more unique than others because of their height, but they were just a sea of windows that reflected the sun as it passed in the sky.
I went the extra mile to make myself look amazing all the time, but I missed the days when putting on a bit of mascara and lipstick was good enough. Jeans and a t-shirt were perfectly acceptable. But now I had to spend an hour just doing my hair, and my makeup required layer after layer of texture and color. When I walked out the door, I was ready for a photoshoot.
I walked down the hall and approached Conway’s studio. Anytime I knocked, he was busy working on something and barely gave me the time of day, so I didn’t bother knocking this time.
Conway stood in front of his mannequin, but today, he wasn’t in a suit and tie. He was in dark jeans that hung low on his hips and a black t-shirt that hugged his biceps perfectly. His back was turned to me, so I could see the way the fabric stretched across his shoulder blades. This clothing was a lot more revealing than his suit, so I could see the way his wide chest slimmed to his narrow hips. His triceps were distinct and separate from his biceps. His forearms were even more chiseled than I realized. And the dark color of his shirt matched his tone perfectly, from his irritable personality to the short, dark hair on his head.
With arms crossed over his chest, he stared at the silver babydoll top hanging on the mannequin. Flawless diamonds reflected the art lights from the walls. Without seeing the price tag, I could only guess how expensive something like that would be.
Like, as expensive as my mother’s repossessed house.
“It’s stunning.” Any woman would feel beautiful wearing something that gorgeous.
Conway slowly turned around and regarded me, this time without an ounce of irritability. He always seemed to be pissed off about something, disappointed when things weren’t meticulously perfect. But he was in a better mood. Or maybe my compliment meant something to him. “I think it’ll look even more beautiful on you.” He snapped his fingers and directed me to the spot beside the mannequin.
