“Where were you?” she hisses, and I’m reminded of my first day at Vanshionista.
What happened? She was in a fine mood until last night.
“When I call everyone at seven. I mean seven.” Vanessa points to the clock. I know there is no point in telling her that it’s only two minutes to seven.
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to be at your best. I don’t want this fashion week to be a disaster because my incompetent staff can’t handle it.” She glances around, now that everyone has joined us. “If anything goes wrong, you all are going to get fired.”
With that, she struts away, leaving us all shaking in our shoes or heels for that matter.
Before I can even ask Linda, she breaks into sobs. “I didn’t know…she takes coffee with low-fat milk.”
I cannot believe this is the same person who has set up bedrooms for her designers in case they work late, who fought my mother head-on. Before I can think more, Ann saunters toward us, dressed in another of his bright turtlenecks paired with a contrasting jacket.
“Good morning, ladies. Before you start another amazing day of hard work, I’ve a small surprise for you all.” He nods toward three men. “This is Tuscan’s pride, Panforte, coming from one of the finest bakeries.” In his great Italian accent, Ann makes the cake sound even sweeter.
Suddenly, all the girls are giggling as the burgundy-jacket-wearing men present us a cake with a wink and a red rose.
But I’m frozen to my place with a wide-open mouth.
What the heck just happened?
I look at Ann, who is scanning the group with his serious hawk gaze, until it settles on me. His pressed lips slowly curl in a carefree smile. But he doesn’t fool me today.
One of the spruced-up guys offers me a cake, but I shake my head and amble toward Ann. His smile faltering at my move.
“What’s going on here?” I whisper.
“What do you mean? We are in Tuscany and this is—”
“Tuscan pride. Yes, I get it.” I look at him, squinting in confusion. “How did you do it? You made everyone forget about Vanessa’s outburst.”
“Don’t think too much, Clementine. You are just going to hurt that head of yours.” Ann taps my forehead before joining the girls, leaving me more confused than before.
I’m once again left wondering what’s the deal between Vanessa and Ann. I know it isn’t romantic, but their trust, friendship, is no less strong.
The rest of the day passes without any hoopla. But we didn’t see Vanessa again, which isn’t unusual as she’s busy with the organizers.
I return to my room and repeat the same process of cleaning up and undressing before settling on the bed. The same family drama plays on the TV. As every other day, I don’t eat any dinner. Gulping down food has not been easy for me this past week.
I plug in my phone’s charger. The battery drained sometime during the day. After a few minutes, when it turns on, there are several notifications waiting for me, including calls from Mere, Gram, Oscar, and Luke. My heart tightens at not seeing the name of one particular person, but it loosens like a cannon at the sight of a text from him.
Keith: For some weird reason, this girl stays with me, despite all my jerkiness. I hope the others in my life do too.
Below is a photo of Snowy sitting on top of his laptop in the kitchen where there is a plate of half-eaten cheesecake.
What are you doing, Keith? Why are you making this so impossible for me?
Showing me a glimpse of a life that is not mine. My head rolls on the pillow, eyes riveting to the fork on his plate. The fork that has been in his mouth.
A mouth I remember every night, hot and fast, ravaging my lips like there’s no tomorrow. His breath skating over my skin, awakening all the cells in my body. His arms holding me tight, close to his thundering heart. His green eyes sparkling as he looks down before thrusting inside me.
I’m hot when my eyes open. Mouth dry and hair sticking on my sweaty forehead. I push away the heavy duvet. The dream still fresh in my mind, I scrub my face with my hands.
How do I get this man out of my head?
Loud voices from the hallway interrupt my thoughts and I glance at my cell phone. It’s midnight. Maybe someone is returning from a party, is my first thought. This entire floor is booked for Vanshionista’s staff, including Vanessa. But the voices continue to grow louder. I walk to the door and snoop through the peephole.