AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“What was that?” Venerable demands judgmentally. “And what is going on in House Corbin, Simon?” I blink, trying to think of a single thing to say, and Venerable adds one more question I don’t have the answer to. “Why was she singing about her cat?”
“If you’ll excuse me,” I say, standing. Thankfully, Venerable’s understanding of English... casual terms... is less than perfect.
Venerable sputters, “We are not finished.” As I reach the door, he calls out, “Careful, Young Corbin. You have much to learn and would do well to stay within the boundaries Jacqueline created before you were a speck in the universe.”
That is the message he came to deliver today, and despite the interruption, he was successful. But I’m not going to let him leave with the last word.
“Boundaries are meant to be crossed and redrawn. If we stay stuck in a box of our own making, comfortable and secure in the knowledge of every corner, we will never explore all that is possible. In fashion, or in life.” Narrowing my eyes, I say, “Hopefully, you will see what happens with the upcoming shows and your fears will be assuaged.”
I let my ears lead me, and a mere two doors down the hall, I hear voices. That explains the mistaken door choice, but not the outfit nor behavior. Opening the door, I’m greeted by one of the oddest sights I’ve ever seen... within the walls of House Corbin or outside them.
It appears to be a masquerade party of sorts. Five women, all in various outrageous costumes, are chatting with Tobias, who’s holding court as he speaks about the history of House Corbin.
Conversation stops when I close the door behind me. “MonsieurCorbin,” Tobias says congenially. “Come, come... meet our guests.”
“I’d be delighted, though I’ve already met one of them.” I pin the redhead with a stormy look.
She makes a sound of embarrassment, shrinking into herself. But almost instantly, she corrects the movement and straightens her back, eyes meeting mine and holding steadily.
Isn’t that interesting?
The brunette next to the redhead throws an elbow, nudging her in the rib. “Isthatthe ‘meeting’ you interrupted, Autumn? Because I’m considering interrupting one myself... by divorcing my knees and doing a little twerking of my own.”
And now I’m reminded of my vixen’s name. I saw it, along with a peek at her social media, when we went through the applicants for the competition. I’d been intrigued then, but now, I’m fully interested.
“Molly! Shh!” Autumn hisses.
The brunette lets out an evil chuckle but quiets, though her eyes speak volumes.
“Ladies,” Tobias says, “this is Simon Corbin, executive director of House Corbin, and as I’m sure you know, the face of our brand. He is the one who came up with the Fashion Females Under 25 competition.” He makes the announcement with a small golf clap that I’m sure he’ll give me shit over later.
“Thank you. I am wondering why our guests are dressed so...” I trail off, not sure how to describe the variety of craziness in front of me.
Tobias laughs easily. “It was a brilliant idea your aunt had. Have them dress up amusingly in a style to be in opposition to their usual. And voila.”
“Interesting,” I allow, though I don’t like it. The competitors Jacqueline and I selected are all talented, innovative designers. They should not be reduced to dramatic antics, despite the tempting sexiness of the frayed strings adorning Autumn’s upper thighs. An image of the same frayed bits hanging over her ass while she twerked forms in my mind, resulting in a tightening in my slacks.
One of the women steps forward. She’s wearing a strappy black leather harness over a low-cut silk camisole and slim-fit cigarette pants with a zipper that begins near the belly button and disappears between her thighs invitingly. “Bonjour, Monsieur Corbin. Je m’appelle Beatrice Dupont.” She holds her hand out, not for a handshake, but rather for me to kiss the back of it. I glance from her eyes to her hand and then take her hand in my own and move it up and down a few times. Her eyes darken in disappointment.
Next, Yori steps forward, introducing herself and bowing her head slightly. I only knowkonichiwain Japanese, so after that, our introduction finishes and she steps back.
Next comes Katarina with a firm handshake and direct eye contact as she introduces herself in Russian. I can carry on a passable conversation in Russian, and she seems delighted by the fact, despite my accent being embarrassingly poor.
Molly skips up to me, leaning forward with pursed lips that scare me at first, but thankfully, she presses her cheek to mine on one side and then the other, making a loud smacking sound to the air. “Nice to meetcha,” she says gleefully.
Between each introduction, my eyes return to Autumn. She looks frightened, probably concerned that I’ll scold her or have her removed from the competition. I have no intention of doing so.
“Miss Fisher,” I greet her quietly, shaking her hand. She has a good handshake, strong despite her obvious terror. “I believe we’ve met.”
“I am... so sorry,” she states earnestly. “I was confused and... I definitely didn’t mean to interrupt your, um, meeting?”
“Meeting,” I confirm. This close, I realize how short she is. I tower over her, at least thirty centimeters taller. It’s another unique feature to her. I’ve gotten so used to women who are about as tall as I am in this industry. Growing up, I always thought tall women were the height of beauty, pun intended.
But looking at Autumn, I’m quickly reevaluating that idea. Between her creamy pale skin, freckles, and utterly unique hair color, she’s beautiful in a way I’ve never really encountered before.
And I like it... a lot. It’s certainly different from the common blonde or brunette that I frequently see in Paris.
Looking into her eyes, I see intelligence hiding behind her worries and a strength that’s magnetic. She intrigues me, this American girl. She’s clearly still worried that I’m going to berate her in front of everyone.
