by Kim Karr
“No, not at all. They’re friends. You know that. He even called her to get a reference. So is that a yes?”
“Yes. If I get the job.”
“You already have it,” I tell her. “I might have arranged it all this week when I found out you were returning with the hopes you’d take it. There’s just the formality of meeting with Julia on Monday morning. But I know you’ll knock her socks off.”
“Are you serious?”
With excitement bubbling from within, I tell her. “Dead serious.”
“Oh, my God. I can’t believe this. Thank you.”
I hold up my glass. “Welcome to Bombshell.”
STRIKE A DIFFERENT POSE
Tomorrow, we are shooting a spread for the second edition of Bombshell. The maiden issue hasn’t hit the stands yet, but that doesn’t mean anything.
The second issue requires at least six weeks of prep work before publication date, and since the launch edition is complete, we’re starting the Holiday Edition a bit early.
Lugging my stylist kit containing tape, safety pins, scissors, clips and other important necessities to fix any clothing problems, I head to the sample closet to finalize the wardrobe components to present to Julia later today.
My new phone rings, and I see it’s my brother. I hit ignore. I’ll have to call him back later.
When I see a tall, dark, and handsome man leaning against the jam, I’m surprised.
His head is back, and he’s laughing at Ava, who I can barely see around his broad shoulders.
Julia loved her at first sight, and Max signed off without even meeting her. Then again, he had phoned his ex-fiancé, Queen Victoria of Alexandria, and after she gave Ava a glowing recommendation, he signed on the bottom line approving her for the position straight away.
The request came from Julia. He and I haven’t come face-to-face. In fact, we haven’t so much as crossed paths in the three weeks I’ve worked here.
“That looks like it belongs to a cow,” Hunter says around his laughter. “Should we start looking to see if one lost her coat and is wandering around the halls of Bombshell?”
The guy, who I now recognize from the pictures of Prince Max, that I may or may not have seen while stalking the Internet over the past weeks, is Hunter Tigress, the CEO of Tigress Cosmetics, and Max’s best friend.
Just like his photo, he is really good-looking with perfectly styled brown hair and vibrant green eyes. I can tell with just one look that he’s a man of complete confidence.
And so Ava’s type.
I clear my throat. “Hello.”
His smile remains wide when he turns to see me standing beside him. “You must be the infamous Gigi Gatsby.”
I nod and my stomach flips nervously at the thought of Max talking about me with him. “I am.”
He extends his hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
His friendly and flirtatious nature is laid-back, and he oozes charm. “I see you’ve met Ava Smart.”
Stepping aside, he allows me a prime view of her. “Yes, and we’re discussing the possibility of going out to a pasture for the shoot today.”
I peek inside the closet to see Ava wearing a black and white spotted cape, and I bite my lip. “Oh, God, that needs to go in the rejection pile, ASAP.”
She pouts comically. “And here I was looking forward to seeing Hunter’s crew create animal magic.”
Amused, I tsk. “I’m not sure two black eyes translates well to print.”
“Thank you!” He nods in agreement. “That is exactly my argument.” He leans closer. “Maybe you could convince your assistant to go out to dinner with me to discuss it further.”
“Dude, I’ve been waiting for you for over ten minutes,” Max’s voice booms from down the hall.
God, he’s coming toward us. I haven’t spoken to him in so long. Three weeks feels like three months or an eternity. My knees go weak, and my heart starts to pound out of my chest the closer he gets, not to mention the fact that my pulse is going bonkers.
So much for that coat of steel I’ve been building.
Long strides bring him closer. Clack. Clack. Clack. His fine leather shoes are all I can here. Closer. Closer. Closer. Every step he takes makes my heart beat faster and faster, until my blood becomes a thunder that rushes through my veins.
I’m a mess.
He’s so perfectly composed.
Damn him.
“Max,” Hunter says. “Shut the hell up. I’m working on an idea for tomorrow’s shoot.”
“Work. I guess that’s what you call what you do on a daily basis. Looks more like flirting if you ask me.”
Hunter flips him the bird.
As soon as Max reaches him, though, the insults fall into a flurry of backslapping. Two grown men reverting to the behavior of college boys in front of my eyes.
It’s kind of endearing.
I’ve never seen Max so relaxed except when we were riding the rides at Coney Island.
When Max grabs Hunter around the neck, his gaze wanders toward me, and he gives me an acknowledging nod. “Where the fuck have you been for the last three weeks?” he asks Hunter.
I nod back, and stare, wondering if he’s also talking to me.
“In Italy on business—” Hunter tells him.
“Gigi,” Ava calls. “What do you think of this?”
I hear bits and pieces of their conversation while trying to converse with Ava at the same time. Things like, why Hunter hasn’t called. How Max is still crashing at his place. His place? Why? Over our forty-eight hour love affair, he told me he has a penthouse on the West End.
While the men talk, I make my way toward Ava. I have to get away from him. He looks so good that I just know if I touch my cheek with my knuckles it will be burning hot.
Ava has a huge mess on her hands. Clothing and accessories spewed all around the Hollywood-type space. Bending down, she picks up a red sequined slip dress. “This is my choice for the cover.”
“That would look fantastic on you,” Hunter muses, his eyes darting down Ava’s body as if he’s imagining her in it. “You should wear that to the launch party on Friday night.”
The blush that coats her cheeks has to be so much worse than mine. They look like two red cherries. “Oh, I can’t wear the samples used for shoots to a company function.”
“Then don’t use that one on the shoot,” he remarks with a grin.
“I thought we had lunch plans?” Max remarks.
“Yes, we do.” Hunter’s green eyes twinkle with good humor as he leans against the door frame with flirtation written all over him. “So, about dinner,” he says to Ava.
Her eyes focus on his mouth. “Right, yes, a dinner with you to discuss the makeup palette for tomorrow. I think I can manage it.”
“Is seven good?”
She nods.
“I’ll get your address from the boss here.”
Max is staring at me while they set up their date that isn’t really a date but actually is. When I can’t take the heat any longer, I glance away, afraid he’ll catch sight of the desire that I’m trying to keep at bay. That, along with wishing the tingling between my legs would go away.
“Goodbye, Gigi,” he tells me as Hunter and he prepare to leave, and all the while, his eyes are trained on my lips. Unbidden, they part under his powerful stare. God, I miss those lips on me.
I wave, unable to manage to say anything to him right now.
“I’ll see you at the shoot tomorrow,” he says softly, his voice hoarse.
“Yes, I’ll be there,” I stupidly reply.
Of course, I’ll be there.
Once he’s gone, I suck in some much-needed air. Standing beside me is Ava wearing the biggest smirk on her face. “You two are so going to do it again, and my guess is way before Paris.”
Picking through the designer clothing still on the racks, I ignore her. I have to. I can’t think about that. I come across a blouse that has to be the most vivid fuchsia I’ve ever s
een and know right away I must give this to Carly at the front desk. It is so her color.
When I stumble upon a goldish yellow old-Hollywood halter-style dress, I pull it out. “This is stunning.”
Pushing it against my body, she says, “You should totally wear it to the launch party.”
I look down. “Do you think?”
She’s nodding. “Yes, I do. Now, come on. Try it on.”
Shaking my head, I put it back on the rack. “No, I shouldn’t. It’s a really good cover look.”
Gently removing it from the hanger, she holds it out for me. “We’ll find another really great one. I mean look around, we’re surrounded by dozens of possibilities.”
“I don’t know.”
“Come on, please.”
“Fine.” I huff and close the door so I don’t have a show of people watching me before yanking my cashmere sweater off. “But for the record, this is a total diversion that I shouldn’t be doing.”
“Yeah, but a fun one.”
Kicking my pumps off, I set my brand new phone down, and then I shake out of my suede leggings and step into the vibrant silk. Turning to look in the mirror, all I can do is stare. The dress hugs me in all the right places—it’s killer.
Ava sighs dreamily. “Gigi, you look like a princess in it.”
I run my hands down my sides, smoothing the luxurious fabric. “This gown looks like the one Kate Hudson wore in How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days.”
“Oh, my God, it totally does.” She bites her lip. “You know I never realized it before, but you kind of look like her.”
I stare at my reflection in the mirror. Maybe just a bit, but it’s totally the dress. Finding Ava’s eyes, I tell her, “I don’t think I’ve ever worn a long gown.”
“Not even to prom?”
I shake my head. “I wore a long skirt and crop top that I saved an entire summer to buy.”
“Here, slip these on.” She hands me a pair of gold fuck-me pumps and then she pulls a clip from an accessories box and pins my honey locks up into an upsweep.
Stunning is the best word to describe the look. “This belongs on the cover,” I tell her.
“It belongs on you,” she argues.
Nodding my head, I immediately undo the clasp, allowing the fine material to puddle to the floor. “I can’t wear it.”
“What if we use that dress I brought from Alexandria on the cover?”
“The Kate Snow one?” I ask, feeling excited over the idea because I really do love that dress.
She nods, excitement flashing in her own eyes.
An unknown on the cover. Risky but it might be worth it. I step out of the dress I’m wearing. “That could work. The emerald green is perfect for the season, and it is gorgeous. Let’s run the idea of an unknown designer by Julia later.”
“I’ll find some accessories to go with it. I think there’s a vintage pair of gold Chanel’s somewhere in here.”
“Perfect.” Just as I hand the dress to Ava, and just as she takes it, the door swings open.
And Max stands there, filling the space with his insanely gorgeous self.
Meanwhile, I’m in my bra, thong, and fuck me pumps. Kind of a mess. Max, on the other hand, has removed his jacket and looks absolutely scrumptious. Just the mere glimpse of those muscles as they ripple beneath the fine fabric of his white shirt convinces my limbs not to move.
I freeze. He freezes. “I…I…think I dropped my phone in the scuffle with Hunter.”
“Oh, no,” Ava says, tackling the messy pile of clothing, she makes like a linebacker and hands me some kind of tropical-flowered robe from the pile beside me.
Taking it, I can’t pull my stare from him. The way he calls to me is almost visceral.
His eyes rake down my body as I attempt to wrap the kimono around myself. However, the blazing fire coating my skin really hates that idea.
There’s him.
Me.
And Ava, who is on the floor and far away from the invisible tether that seems to keep us spellbound.
The tension seems to mount to new heights. Crazy. Hot. Sizzling chemistry that fills the air. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been trying the clothes on. I won’t do it again.”
“No, it’s fine. How else would you know if you like something?” He starts unknotting his tie and pulling it loose as if he can’t take the heat either. God, I can’t stop watching how his biceps flex under his shirt as he does no matter how hard I try.
“I think I found it!” Ava exclaims, breaking our spell and practically lying on the floor as she reaches beneath the huge pile of clothes.
The hair that falls over his eye as he rakes his fingers through the top of his head is just too much.
Too sexy.
Knotting my robe, I dart my gaze away from his.
Pulling out the black rectangle, Ava jumps to her feet. “I think I’m going to start hanging the clothing as I go from now on.”
I laugh. “Can I remind you of that later?”
Giving me a sideways glare, she hands Max the device. “Here you go.”
As soon as it transfers to his hand, he grabs it. “Thank you and sorry for the disruption. I’ll leave you two to it.”
“You found it,” Hunter’s voice booms as he enters the room.
“Yeah, it was on the floor, where you threw it,” Max jokes.
His eyes on are on Ava, and I don’t think he even notices I’m in a robe. Still looking at her, he says, “Give me that, “and plucks the phone from Max’s grip.
“What are you doing?”
I watch keenly as Ava stares at Hunter. “Putting this find your friend’s phone app on my phone,” Hunter says, and Ava watches keenly.
While Max tries to grab his phone back, I pretend to be busy. Then he says, “Come on, let’s get the fuck out of here,” and I feel like I don’t want him to go.
Ava picks up a few items and hands them to me, but when Hunter turns around to escape Max, they crash into each other. “Hold up,” he says, his eyes intent on Ava, “this is just about done.”
“What are you doing?” I ask, curiously as I attempt to fold the pairs of pants Ava thrust at me.
“I’m sending a confirmation code to my phone that will allow me to track Max’s phone. This is the third time he’s lost it when he’s been with me, and I’m not going to waste any more time out of my life looking for it when I don’t have to.”
As soon as I set the folded items down, Ava throws another pile of clothes at me.
Max sounds agitated when he says, “I already have GPS on my phone. It doesn’t help. The location spotter is too broad.”
This time I nearly fall to the ground in embarrassment when I pick through the pile and come across a lacy bra.
Luckily, Hunter isn’t looking at me when he responds. “This application isn’t the same, smartass. It has way more advanced technology than that. It pinpoints exactly where the device is with precise coordinates.”
“Whatever, dude, you’re worse than Palace security. Let’s go,” Max huffs.
Turning back around, Hunter hands Max his phone back. Ava is now busy trying to find those earrings she spoke of. And I’m busy watching Max.
His back.
Actually my gaze drifts a bit lower to his fine ass.
Then he disappears around the corner and I sigh. I finally got to talk to him, really talk. However, now that I did, that ache in my chest only grows tighter. It’s like I’m being wrapped with a corset and it’s so taut, I can’t find the air to breathe.
Maybe it’s better when I don’t talk to him at all because everything hurts so much more now.
UNLIKE A PRINCE
The never-ending droning sound of her voice goes on and on.
With an exhale, I, once again attempt to end the fucking call. “Beatrice, you weren’t invited because this is a work function, and there’s absolutely no reason for you to attend.”
“Well, I wish you would have at least mentioned the big event to me. I
nstead, I had to find out on social media. The tabloid vlogs of all places.”
That’s because she has them bookmarked and checked for notifications. As if I’m not already aware of her penchant for gossip, she doesn’t seem to be able to stop making it crystal clear. “You haven’t shown any interest in the magazine. So, why would I?”
She sighs. “You know that’s because I have a stylist of my own. Still, that’s beside the point. As you are aware, your father wants us to make a public appearance together. Your launch party would have been the perfect opportunity for it.”
“And I already told you, I’m not doing that.”
“Yes, I know what you’ve said, but your father insists—”
I cut her off. “Look, Beatrice, I don’t think I can be any more direct. I’m not doing what my father requires of me. Not unless I absolutely have to. So, why don’t you do what I asked you to do weeks ago, and go back to Eastwood instead of wasting your time here?”
Nice is nice but enough already. It was my step-mother who went and moved her into my place, and she knows damn well I want her to get the fuck out. While Beatrice explains all the reasons she’s remained in the city for the past month, and why she wants to stay even longer, I glance at the sheer number of stopped cars on Seventh Avenue. Fucking traffic. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.
When I spot a guy on a motorcycle zooming past with a woman straddled around him, I think back to that forty-eight hours I spent with Gigi and wish like hell I could go back in time. Instead, I’m dealing with this woman my father decided to betroth to me, who won’t take no for an answer. I guess after my manwhoring ways, he figured if I didn’t stop, he’d stop me.
The way I see it, she’s my or else.
“Did I tell you Prince Rainer Archibald Casire is in town?” she asks.
Rainer Archibald Casire is the younger son of Caroline, Princess of Burgetti, and her second husband, Archibald Casire. Casire is the sixteenth in the line of succession to the Wimberly throne and the biggest douche to walk the planet. He’s also a man of the cloth with very dominating tendencies, all of which I know for a fact Beatrice is aware of.