Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71762 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71762 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
His eyes narrowed this time. “The only reason a woman won’t give her real name is because she’s running from something—or someone.”
“I won’t bore you with my baggage, Mr. Barsetti. But yes, you’re right.”
“It’s Conway Barsetti.”
“My mistake…”
“Fine, Ten.” He stepped away, his cologne lingering in my nose once he passed. “Walk.”
“Where?”
He never answered me again. He only snapped his fingers.
My eyes immediately narrowed at the action.
“Don’t waste my time, Ten. There and back.”
He wanted me to walk the runway like the other models. I sucked in my stomach and then did as he asked, mimicking their movements the best I could. When I saw fashion shows on TV, I never understood just how difficult it really was until I tried to strut in insanely tall heels. I walked to the edge, posed, and then turned around and walked back to him.
His eyes didn’t linger on my face. He watched all of my movements, from my arms to my legs. He brushed his thumb along his bottom lip and furrowed his brow, as if he was really thinking about what he was seeing.
I returned to the spot where I started.
“Poor mechanism. Loose control. Not enough confidence. Shoulders back farther…widen your steps.” He circled around me, eyeing my legs and my hips. “You need a lot of work.”
“I need a lot of work?” I snapped. “Then why don’t you pick one of the other nine? They were flawless.”
He circled behind me then came back around. “Don’t question me.”
“Don’t question you?” I asked incredulously. “You just insulted me.”
“I critiqued you.” He stopped in front of me again. “And you’re going to have to get used to it if you want to be a Barsetti model.”
“So that means you’ve chosen me?”
“Would I be here otherwise?” He stepped toward me and placed his hands around my rib cage just below my breasts.
It took me a second to understand he was touching me because it happened so quickly. It was one thing to stare at my nakedness, but another to touch me like he had every right to do whatever he wanted. “Uh, do you mind?” I slapped his hands away.
His face was just inches from my face, and he stared at me with arctic coldness. “Do you always interview for a job like this?”
“Do you always assault your employees like this?”
He dropped his hands and stepped back, his eyes touching me even more than his hands did. “I need to understand your body. I need to feel it, to measure it. If you can’t handle being touched, then this isn’t going to work.”
“You could have asked permission first.”
“I don’t ask for permission,” he snapped. “Every model who wears my lingerie belongs to me. I can do whatever I damn well please. Now, if you want to work for me, your attitude is going to have to change.”
“Asking me to change my attitude is like asking me to change my personality.”
“Then control it.” He slid his hands into his pockets and headed to the stairs. “We have a lot of work to do. Be in my dressing room at six tomorrow morning—and expect to be touched.” He took the stairs until he was back in the aisle.
“Six in the morning?” I asked incredulously. I usually wasn’t up until eight.
“Yes.” He adjusted his cuff link then looked at his watch. “I start my day at four.”
Jesus Christ. If I were a billionaire, I’d allow myself the luxury of sleeping in every day. “I know this is a weird request, but I need to be paid under the table. If that can’t happen…then I can’t do this.”
Once he was finished with his sleeves, he looked up at me again. His bright green eyes cut into me like they were knives. He watched me with distinct coldness, the ice reaching every corner of the room. He could replace me with another beautiful woman at any moment. People didn’t make requests like mine unless they were hiding something illegal. I definitely was, and he might not want to help a fugitive. “I accept your terms. But that means you better accept mine.”
4
Conway
I used the top floor of the building for my studio. I had views of the historic cathedral and the rest of the fashion capital of the world. The city was at my feet, and I liked looming over it like a powerful statue.
Watching the sun rise from the window gave me one of the most spiritual experiences of my life. It made me appreciate what I had, appreciate how much I’d conquered this beautiful planet.
A knock sounded on the office door.
“Come in.” I flipped through my sketchbook at the table, looking at the design I’d been composing for the past week. A gray push-up dress embedded with real diamonds, it was made for a queen about to be conquered by a king. Only the wealthiest woman could afford such a gorgeous piece of lingerie—or the man she was fucking. I was eager to feel the fabric with my fingertips, to secure the material with real diamonds. When I presented it at the show next week, it would be the masterpiece.