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I somehow come up with the rest of my outfit—the scarf top, a skirt that I rip along the bottom seam for a frayed effect that barely covers my ass, and over the knee boots with tall platforms and spiky heels. I add another scarf as a train, tying it to the waist chain too. A few more bits and baubles, and I’m ready.
Just in time, too, because I realize that everyone else has already completed their outfits and left the room.
“Shit! C’mon, Autumn. Get it together.” I hurry down the hallway, realizing that I’m not entirely sure which door we came out of. They all look the same, and time is ticking.
I grab the door handle I think is the correct one and take a steadying breath to get into character for the razzle dazzle Tobias saidMadameCorbin wants. I burst inside and twirl, giving the room my back, dropping it down low to twerk and singing, “There’s some hoes in this house, there’s some hoes in this house! Yeah, yeah, yeah you fucking with some wet ass pussy! Give me everything you GOT! With this wet ass—”
A deep, growly voice interrupts my shenanigans, and I freeze mid-twerk, slowly turning around with my knees still bent. My heart skips a beat when I see a very handsome man with dark hair sitting at a round table with an older man who looks aghast. If a scowl can curdle milk, then the man’s scowl is curdling my stomach, making me feel bubbles of emotion in my tummy.
If he weren’t looking at me with disapproval, I would absolutely be enchanted by his devilishly good looks. His face is perfection, with full, kissable lips, a sharp jaw, and piercing whiskey brown eyes that peer out from beneath exquisitely arched eyebrows.
He says something in French, which of course I have no clue what it means, but it’s clear he’s angry.
His voice is guttural gravel, with a sexy as fuck accent, and the combination of the two sends goosebumps over my skin. Not having a clue in hell what he’s asking me, I squeak out, “I’m sorry! I stepped inside the wrong room, I...”
My voice fails me, and when the man’s eyes dip down to where my ass is hanging out from the bottom of my skirt, I squeak and drop my train for some coverage. But it’s too late. Way too late.
I run for it.
In the hall, another door opens and Tobias greets me, “Hurry,MademoiselleFisher. We’re waiting on you.”
I want to keep running, right out the front door and all the way home to New York, but I try to stuff down my mortification, praying that the other people in House Corbin know about this crazy challenge.
I don’t do a grand entrance this time. I simply walk in.
MadameJacqueline is waiting for me. Definitely not a good sign.
She’s a tall, regal beauty, even more so in person than through the computer screen. Her black hair is up in a ballerina-worthy bun, she has a thick coat of mascara on her lashes and plum lipstick on her pursed lips, and she’s wearing a gray pantsuit tailored to perfection.
“Bonjour.”
I think she’s searching for my name, so I offer, “Autumn Fisher. It’s lovely to meet you,MadameCorbin.”
She sniffs the air as though she smells something rank.Oh, God, is it me?I was working pretty hard to get this outfit pulled together quickly, and that catastrophe back there definitely gave me the cold sweats.
I look around the room, trying to judge whether she behaved this taciturnly with the other finalists. But they’re all wide-eyed and seem surprised.
Molly is wearing the yellow tube top as a dress, with a rainbow’s worth of boas wrapped down her arms and legs, making her look like Big Bird at a Pride Parade. Katarina is wearing an orange mu-mu that must be ten sizes too big because she looks like a deflated balloon. Beatrice has on some sort of dominatrix outfit that doesn’t look particularly crazy, nor does she seem all that uncomfortable. If I found out that it was from her personal wardrobe, I wouldn’t bat an eye. Yori, on the other hand, definitely gives me pause. She’s naked, or nearly so. She has taupe tape covering her nipples and delicate chain jewelry draped over her hips. I don’t look too closely, but surely, she has on flesh-toned underwear underneath, right?
“Interesting selections, ladies. I feel this has given me some insights into your creativity and imagination, as well as your work,” Jacqueline tells us. “I look forward to seeing what you create for this week’s fashion show.”
She leans over and whispers something to Tobias, and Molly bumps my elbow with her own. “Psst, what happened? You were almost done when I left.”
Speaking out of the side of my mouth, I tell her, “I messed up big-time. Got lost and went into the wrong room. I twerked in singingWAPto a private meeting.”
“You did not!” she hisses, eyes questioning whether I’m fucking with her. I stare back stone-faced. “Shiiit. Hopefully, it was some nobody that doesn’t matter.”
It wasn’t.
I’m not that lucky. The sexy guy with the scowl and voice to die for? I know that face. It was Simon Corbin, the heir apparent to the Corbin empire.
I don’t tell Molly that, still thinking that maybe I’ll wake up back in my Paris apartment bed. I’ll laugh at the crazy nightmare my brain conjured up to cope with the excitement and stress of the competition.
And none of this will have actually happened.
