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CHAPTER25
SIMON
I foundout about my new runway assignment yesterday, shortlyaftermy aunt told the designers. Two things about that bother me. One, Jacqueline isn’t known for being spontaneous, and two, gathering appropriate male models overnight would be a logistical nightmare. Those two things together tell me that she’s been planning this little twist of hers for a while.
I’m just not sure why she never mentioned it to me. For a competition I originally had to sell her on, she’s throwing me curveballs left and right, first with my being a judge and now having me walk in the final show.
After Jacqueline and Albert left my office, I was desperate to text Autumn or go downstairs to the workroom to see how she felt about it, but I knew she was busy as hell, and I didn’t want to make it seem like I had any doubts about her ability to handle the redirection.
Because I don’t.
She’s amazing and I’m sure she’ll do well. Honestly, I’m sure all the designers will be fine with the switch-up.
Showing up this morning only reaffirmed that. All five of the women were working diligently to make their final fitting adjustments, and I tried to catch Autumn’s eye multiple times while chatting with models I haven’t seen since our last House Corbin show. When I did feel Autumn’s eyes find me, she had fire burning there. I wasn’t sure whether she was jealous or nervous, but reminding her of our connection seemed to do the trick.
“Hey, stranger,” a female voice says behind me as I feel a body curl into my side, grabbing my arm.
I flinch involuntarily, both from the contact that isn’t Autumn and because I know that voice. I step away instantly, but she inserts herself boldly in front of me in next to nothing, wearing only a flesh-colored thong and nipple covers. For all intents and purposes, she is nude, and I make a point of keeping my eyes on hers and nowhere else.
“What are you doing here, Chloe?” I snarl.
“Oh, don’t be like that. I’m working, same as you.” She purrs ‘working’ as though offering to fuck me on the runway. Hell, she probably would if she thought it would get her some camera time and notoriety.
“You’re not one of the models for these shows.”
She grins, quite pleased to know something I don’t know. “Well, word is one of the models had to be replaced last-minute, and then another fell sick. I have good friends at House Corbin, so when they asked me to step in, I couldn’t say no.” She puts her hands on her hips, inviting me to look my fill, but I look anywhere but at her. “And here I am.”
There’s a difference in professional models behaving in a professional manner and what Chloe’s doing. She’s intentionally showing off her body, and that’s not acceptable. Especially given our history.
We dated for a short time, years ago. We were definitely one of the couples that got the paparazzi clicking, but that was about all that clicked between us. Frankly, while she’s beautiful on the outside, on the inside, she’s self-centered and shallow. About the only thing we had in common was sex. Still, we parted on good-ish terms and she’s walked for House Corbin since then with no issues.
But she’s not supposed to be here today.
“Excuse me,” I tell her, stepping around her to put even more distance between us.
She puts a staying hand on my forearm, her eyes dropping to my groin and then slowly climbing back up to my face. “Aren’t you going to ask who I’m walking for?”
Chloe can be sly, even scheming when the situation calls for it. But games aren’t her forte. She’s too arrogant to play chess when a bash over the head works equally well.
I can almost feel the club over my head, ready to strike.
“Who?” I hiss. I already know the answer before she says a word.
“Autumn Filcher, I think she said?”
And the world stops.
“Fisher. You mean Autumn Fisher,” I say flatly, in shock.
“Same difference. Just a pity it’s not Jacqueline.” She shrugs. “But I’ll do anything for her.”
She struts off, heading toward Autumn’s station. I glare at her back, feeling like something is off. And from beyond Chloe, I see Autumn watching me watch Chloe.
I want to go to her and explain, maybe warn her that I’m worried Chloe is up to something. Or that Jacqueline is. But Autumn whirls, and I miss my chance because the stage director grabs me and pushes me toward the curtain, calling everyone over for last-minute instructions.
* * *
Standing backstage, I’m ready to walk. Although it seems like a waste since I’m not showcasing any fashion. Half-dressed with my chest oiled up, I’m here to be the meat candy and nothing more.
