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She brought up a database of swimwear and tutorials. “I mean, wow, Nadia. I can understand why Sophie was jealous. How did you end up with Paul Crane?”
I lifted my shoulders. “I haven’t ended up with him; we’re dating.”
“I saw his interview with Force Media. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was in love with you. But I’m sure it’s just the way they cut the segment. They intermixed it with him staring, hugging, and kissing you. It was sweet.”
It was sweet, but her “the way they cut the segment” jab wasn’t.Perhaps Isabelle doesn’t want to get my hopes up too high. All I wanted was a girlfriend I could confide in, but I had to think of Paul. He was famous and private, and I wouldn’t betray him. Like I’ve done by not sharing I missed taking birth control? He needed to know.
Isabelle came over and placed her arm around my shoulder. “You look miserable. What’s wrong?”
I put on a smile. “I’m just tired.”
“No doubt. You’re possibly jetlagged too.”
“Nothing a good night of sleep won’t fix.”
“I was wondering, because I’ve signed an NDA, would I be able to see your bedroom and closet? Sophie was really impressed and has talked it up a lot. I’d love to see why. Would that be okay?”
Sophie must have given Isabelle the blueprints. Had I thrown away the evidence of my pregnancy test? What if Isabelle opened a drawer with Paul’s dildo?I can’t risk it.Even though she was kind, and I believed she wouldn’t put her NDA in jeopardy, she was too casual with her gossip.
“Sorry, Isabelle. We agreed that the rooms Paul and I share are private now.”
Her smile went tight. “No problem. We’ve got tons of things to do.”
Isabelle opened her portfolio on the central worktable, and I left to inform Opal to lock the doors and limit access in the penthouse.Better safe than sorry.
After a while, Isabelle left the room. She returned with a pinched expression.
“Is everything all right?” I asked her.
“Yeah. I went to find a bathroom, and saw an office, but your maid stopped me from going in. It had shelves of books, but I guess it’s private too?”
I nodded yes. “Paul uses it for work. There are no design books in there, but I do have some here. Is there something you’re looking for—”
“No, it was just odd. I was only curious.” She sighed. “Anyway. Let me show you what I have so far.”
“Great,” I said and went to stand next to her by the worktable.
Isabelle showed me her plans and we went to work. We were in and out of the studio for hours, getting materials from her place and shops, then sewing. We ordered Thai for a late dinner and were lost in our creative bubble. The next time I looked up from knitting, it was seven in the evening.
“Can I stay over? I have a noise limit with my roommates and I’m making progress here,” she asked.
Isabelle had spent the whole time working on her bikinis and had kept our conversations mostly on designs. “Okay. Sure.”
She tossed the bikini top she was sewing onto the worktable. “It’s a slumber party.”
My laugh ended in a yawn. “Let me show you the room, or do you want to go back to your place for clothes?”
“No, I have Pilates early tomorrow. Why don’t you join me? I can change before we go.”
“Really, can I?”
“Of course, you can. I’ll warn you; it’ll leave you walking like Frankenstein the next day.” Isabelle imitated the famous stiff walk as I laughed.
We worked for a couple more hours, then I left her to get a new pajama set and showed her to the guest bedroom. “I’ll have your clothes dry cleaned for early delivery tomorrow.”
Her eyes narrowed and she smirked. “Wow, you can just do that?”
It hit me that this lifestyle wasn’t normal, and she might think I was bragging. “I don’t use it, but it’s been offered to me.”
