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“Well, that busted my bubble.” She finished up my eye makeup and then focused on contouring my face. “So, is it true that he never leaves your side?”
Irritation prickled at the back of my mind. Thankfully, Damon bent in his need to attach himself to my side.
“You sure have a lot of gossip on me.”
“Well, it isn’t as if you haven’t been the topic of news lately.” She shrugged. “I’d rather keep our conversations lighthearted.”
Fuck me. I’d rather be here in dead silence than chitchat with a gossip.
“Well?”
After Carla’s last remark, she still expected me to answer, okay, I’d give her an answer. “He’s not here, so that should tell you about listening to gossip. Don’t do it.”
“Oh, come on. Then is the security the reason he’s not with you? He uses them to keep an eye on you?”
I shot her a glare. “I’m a Morelli. I’ve had at least two people somewhere in the vicinity around me since I was born.”
Technically that wasn’t true, but this twat didn’t need to know this information.
She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it as her cell rang with an incoming call. Instead of letting it go to voicemail, she stopped working on me to answer it.
Regina would lose her ever-loving mind when she arrived and saw that I wasn’t ready for the first set.
And right on cue, a commotion of heavy footsteps followed by loud conversation filled the area behind us.
Regina and her staff of at least fifteen, maybe twenty people, came up the stairs. She barely had her foot on the landing before jumping into production mode. She pointed to areas around the room, giving directions and pointing at things on a tablet. Men and women dressed in clothes ranging from jeans and t-shirts to suits moved into production mode.
I shook my head, taking in Regina’s outfit. How she could make a neon pink and blue sweatsuit and spiked green heels look perfect together, I’d never understand. The woman had this way of seeing trends and hitting the market before others.
A hunch told me, in addition to jailhouse stripes, neon was in my future.
As Regina continued talking, she looked in my direction. Her hazel eyes narrowed, and a frown touched her lips when she saw Carla on her phone. Then Regina leaned over to say something to her assistant, who nodded before approaching us.
I gave an internal prayer of thanks and then studied Carla’s reflection in the mirror.
With any luck, this would be one of the rare occasions I’d ever have to work with her again.
It wasn’t just her gossiping. Spreading hearsay was the norm in this industry, but something about her wasn’t sitting well.
There was no easy banter with her. Most seasoned makeup artists perfected their chat game when they started their careers.
Then I found it strange she only knew me as Sophia Morelli.
People in the fashion world knew my professional name, especially those who worked with me. Only tabloids, gossip blogs, and non-fashion world media tagged me as a Morelli.
And what was up with her checking the phone nonstop?
Even the newbies in the industry understood to turn off their phones and focus on the job, and she seemed glued to it. And to have a designer catch you taking a call while on their dime meant no further jobs from them or anyone in their circle.
These types of things happened with models, too. Only the handful at the top got away with acting the fool. There was always someone younger, newer, prettier to replace you. It was the reason the industry was so damn cutthroat.
Regina’s assistant, Vita, approached with a clipboard in one hand and a drink in the other. She had her blonde hair pulled back in a knot at the base of her neck and wore a casual green linen pantsuit paired with white sneakers.
Her smile was friendly, but her body language gave away her annoyance.
“Sophia, it is so good to see you.” Vita leaned down to give me a double-cheeked kiss and then straightened, shooting Carla a death glare. “Fernando will be here in five minutes to finish styling you for the shoot. Carla is going home to continue her phone call.”
Instead of commenting on what she’d said, I gestured with my chin to the designer convict jumpsuit. “So let me guess which outfit I will wear for the first set.”
