by Imari Jade
“Could you at least try to pay attention,” Emily told him.
“Sorry,” Bekim said. “I was designing in my mind. I do that some times.”
“We might have to call Shane for his input,” Emily said. “He’s done a few pieces for Niemeyer’s. We can do a conference call since he can’t come to the office until his legs heal.”
“I’ll set the call up for tomorrow morning,” Bekim said. Shane, she liked. He wondered if she’d slept with him. No, he didn’t think so. Emily hadn’t been a virgin, but she had felt tight from lack of use. “We’ll give him some time to get up and take pain medication and then we’ll drop the bomb on him.”
“He’ll be okay,” Emily said. “The bulk of the designing will rest on your shoulders.”
Bekim’s phone vibrated in his pocket. “Excuse me,” he said, sliding it out and looked down at the display. It was a text from his sister Glenda. They were meeting for lunch. He texted her back and put the phone away.
Emily went on speaking like she hadn’t noticed. He knew how much the phone calls irritated her.
“That should be all for today. We’ll meet in the boardroom tomorrow at nine with the rest of the team. Please try to find time in your busy schedule to sketch up a few designs to show us.”
“It’s just my sister Glenda. I’m joining her for lunch,” Bekim explained.
“Not my business,” Emily said, dismissing him.
Bekim rose. What could he do to melt that chunk of ice around Emily’s heart? “I’ll check in with you later,” he said walking through the door. “And it is just a lunch date with my sister. I’m not always draped in models.”
“Whatever,” Emily said. “I just hope we used protection. I wouldn’t want to catch anything.”
Bekim was just about to tell her the truth when Emily’s phone rang. He left out the office to give her privacy. He’d tell her later.
Chapter Two
“Oh my gawd,” Emily groaned as she checked the calendar. August had come and gone and she hadn’t gotten her period. Now it was the first week in September and it still hadn’t put in an appearance. And she never skipped a month since becoming a woman. I have some decisions to make. But first she needed to schedule an appointment with her gynecologist for an exam and a pregnancy test. She’d know what to do once she got the results. On a brighter note, the team had finished with Niemeyer’s clothing and she and the others were scheduled to deliver them to the store in a couple of days.
Emily reached for her phone and telephoned Doctor Kim’s office.
The receptionist answered promptly. “Doctor Kim’s office. How may I help you?”
“Hello, my name is Emily Bucktell and I’d like to schedule an appointment to see Doctor Kim for a pregnancy test.”
“Oh, yes, Miss Bucktell. Let me see if he has any openings.” There was a pause and then the receptionist returned to the phone. “He has an opening this morning at nine, if you’d like to come in.” “I’ll be there,” Emily said. The sooner she found out the better.
“Okay, see you at nine,” the receptionist said.
Emily hung up the phone and then lifted the receiver again to telephone her father to let him know she’d be in later.
Solomon sounded concerned, but didn’t pry. “Just take your time,” he told her. “This place isn’t going anywhere.”
Two hours later Emily sat stunned and confused on the subway as she traveled from Doctor Kim’s office to the House of Bucktell’s. Pregnant. She shuddered. What am I going to do?
Emily got off at her stop and walked up the stairs that led to the sidewalk above the subway along with several other riders. A hint of fall was in the air, along with lots of pollution. She walked slowly through the throng of people, considering her options. Emily wasn’t keen on the idea of having an abortion, nor did she want to be a single parent. She supposed she should tell Bekim, since it was partially his fault too. But the decision rested solely on her shoulders since it was her body and her choice.
“Good morning, Miss Bucktell,” Jasmin said to her.
Emily looked up startled. When did she get to work? She’d been too occupied with her thoughts to pay attention. “Good morning,” Emily said. She hadn’t seen Bekim until she nearly bumped into him.
“Whoa,” he said. “You need to pay attention while wandering through the halls.”
Emily looked up at him. “Huh? Oh, I’m sorry. I have something on my mind.”
“Anything I can help you with?” he asked.
“No,” Emily said absently. “You’ve done enough.”
“Huh?” Bekim asked.
“Never mind,” Emily said. “I’m just rambling. Has all the Niemeyer line been brought up from downstairs?”
“Yes, It’s in the show room awaiting our final inspection,” Bekim said as they walked together away from the administration desk. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look a bit pale.”
“Pollution,” Emily said. “It’s very thick outside.”
Bekim followed her to the elevator and they entered when it arrived. “I looked at everything earlier. The seamstresses did an excellent job.”
Although she valued Bekim’s opinion, she’d like to see the work for herself. “What time are the trucks arriving to take the merchandise to Niemeyer’s?”
“Noon,” Bekim answered. “And shortly afterward I’ll be in my office finishing up the stuff for Fashion Week.”
Egad, she’d forgotten about that. Shane had sent in his designs and Bekim. For some reason Bekim was being extra nice and overseeing the work while Shane was home recuperating. And he still had his own designs to worry about.
“Do you need any help?” Emily asked when the elevator door opened.
“Are you offering to assist me?”
Emily glared at him. “Don’t make me regret the offer.”
Bekim chuckled good-naturedly. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m almost finished. I’ve had to cancel some dinner dates and work later than usual to keep up.”
“Oh, you poor thing,” Emily said sarcastically as she stepped out the elevator.
Bekim followed her to the showroom. She opened the door. Everyone inside stopped what they were doing and then immediately went back to work after recognizing her.
Racks and racks of beautiful fashions in fall colors of green, burnt orange, gold and brown lined the huge room. Garment inspectors checked each item looking for the smallest of flaws before bagging the item.
Emily walked over to one rack and lifted a cute Capri outfit. Bekim had designed it in brown and green with little turned up cuffs at the knees. Emily found herself thinking how cute it would look with a pair of brown wedge sandals and a matching brown canvas bag.
“Well, what do you think?” Bekim asked.
His deep voice broke her train of thought. “It’s nice and trendy,” Emily said, replacing the outfit back on the rack. “And this is darling,” she said lifting a gold short-sleeved minidress. The accompanying gold and brown shawl could be used to ward off an evening breeze.
“That would look good on you,” Bekim said.
“Yeah, if I was eighteen,” Emily replied.
Bekim walked around her. “You still have the figure to pull it off.”
Not for long. In about a month or two she’d have a sizable lump just below the navel. She racked the outfit and walked down the aisle to inspect the men’s wear. Bekim had blended the fall colors with dashes of black, rust and green. The male clothing line had a quirky, hip, young style with plenty of pockets, and would look good on any youth or young man.
There were also some classy dressy fashions in a slightly higher price range. An hour or so later, after Emily had inspected everything, she gave it her blessing. She clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Okay people, everything looks good. You’ve done excellent work so get these masterpieces tagged and bagged and moved down to the loading docks so we can meet our noon deadline.”
The workers jumped into action, inspecting
and bagging the remainder of the merchandise and pushing racks past her and Bekim and out of the door.
Bekim yawned and stretched. “Time for me to get back to work.” His cell phone went off.
Emily glared at him. “Keep the call short,” she told him, heading toward the door. “Time is money. Fashion Week is a week away.” She left the room and headed back to her office.
* * * *
Bekim glanced at the last item in his Fashion Week line, a black and taupe cocktail dress he’d designed for Camille to wear. He’d just put away a silver gown he’d also designed for the model. All the other items, including the men’s clothing, had been tagged, labeled and bagged, waiting to taken to the venue where the models would get dressed and perform. Something is missing. He turned away trying to conjure up in his mind the correct accessory to be worn with the dress. His creation was gorgeous, but it needed just a little something to make it stand out.
Bekim pulled out a box of costume jewelry he’d designed and began searching through. “Ah,” he said pulling out a cameo broach and matching earrings. Perfect. He examined the pieces and carefully wrapped them in tissue and put them inside the bag that contained the dress. He put it away, satisfied with the outcome. Bekim yawned. He’d put up a good act in front of Emily, but truthfully he felt exhausted and couldn’t wait for tonight so he could get some rest. He only had one stop to make after work and then he was homeward bound. He was glad they were able to finish the Niemeyer Collection and he hoped Solomon wouldn’t accept any more last minute work for a while. Fashion Week was stressful enough by itself.
“You look tired.”
Bekim looked toward the door. Oil heiress Gizelle Romanoff stood in the doorway looking chic and elegant in a navy blue and white geometrical dress he’d created for her last year. “Gizelle, darling.” Had he forgotten a date with her? “Come on in.”
They’d met at a party about two years ago. Her father, Nate, owned many oil wells somewhere down in Texas, but he moved the family to New York so Gizelle could get more exposure and probably land her a rich husband.
The raven-haired beauty was well bred and educated, but she was a bit of a wild cat. Gizelle was also the supreme party animal, an A-lister who had no interest in snaring a husband who would interfere with her current lifestyle.
Gizelle walked in carrying a shoulder bag containing Peaches, her miniature terrier. Peaches was so small she could fit in the center of his hand, but made this amazingly loud yelp when she barked. Right now, thankfully, Peaches was snoozing peacefully in her carrier.
Gizelle walked over to a seat and crossed her long legs, giving him a heavenly view of her thighs. “I want to go to Fashion Week, Bekim.”
Oh, so this is why she is here. For the last two years she’d wanted the same thing, but both times he had to turn her down because he was busy getting the models ready. Bekim rubbed his temple. “I thought I’d explained it to you before that I will be too busy tending to the models to sit with you in the audience.”
Gizelle pouted her peach-tinted lips at him. “But everyone who’s anyone will be there. I don’t really care if you accompany me or not. I just need to be there.”
His manhood would have taken a blow if he weren’t used to Gizelle’s selfishness. But she wasn’t a model, actress or photographer. And this was one of those instances when having money couldn’t get you entry. He did have a couple of tickets put aside for fashion magazine editors and reporters, but not for current girlfriends. “So you just want to attend so you’ll have something to brag about to your friends.”
“Yes,” Gizelle said. “Why else would I want to be there? I can care less about what some pencil-thin model is wearing.”
Bekim tried to hide his annoyance. Gizelle could be exasperating at times. No, she was a spoiled brat. And she wasn’t model material because she was too short and had a voluptuous figure. The twenty-five year old blond would be bored out of her gourd after being at the show five minutes. “I’m sorry, honey. I just can’t help you out.”
Gizelle leaned forward. “What’s it going to take to change your mind? I can make it nice for you.” She sounded like a bad Marilyn Monroe impersonator.
Bekim looked her over. Her breasts threatened to spill out the dress, which meant she wasn’t wearing a bra for support like he’d instructed her when he had turned the dress over to her. Still, the offer seemed tempting.
Someone cleared a throat in the doorway.
Bekim looked up to find Emily frowning at him. He looked away quickly and over at the breast-bearing Gizelle and then back to Emily. Emily had some nice breasts too, but right now she had them securely hidden away in a red and bone-colored two-piece suit. He’d bet his last dollar she had on a bra. He turned his attention back on Gizelle. At least he wouldn’t have to fight Gizelle to get her into his bed later. “Can I help you, Emily?”
“I just stopped by to see if I could lend you a hand with Shane’s collection. But I see you have your hands full.”
Emily couldn’t stand Gizelle and the feelings were mutual. The two of them had gotten into an argument when Emily walked into Bekim’s office and found the young woman half-naked and waiting to surprise him. And of course the Dragon Queen read Gizelle the riot act about it and told her this was a place of business and not a whorehouse. Gizelle hadn’t made it any better by telling Emily she was just jealous. He would be sorry to tell Gizelle, but she had nothing on the classy Emily Bucktell, except possibly her father had more money than Solomon.
“I’m already finished with both his and mine,” Bekim said. “And Gizelle just stopped by to see if I had any tickets to Fashion Week.”
Emily gazed over at the heiress. “What’s she going to do there? No one will be DJing or passing out gelatin-shots.”
Ooh, Emily didn’t have to go there. Gizelle might not be perfect, but she did know how to have fun...something Emily should learn to do.
The insult went clear over Gizelle’s head. She continued to sit there pouting.
Peaches work up yawned and yelped.
“What is that doing here?” Emily asked. “This isn’t a kennel.”
Bekim grimaced. Emily didn’t even try to be nice.
“I never leave home without Peaches,” Gizelle told her. “She gets lonely.”
“Well, Fashion Week isn’t for kids or pets,” Emily said. “And it’s by invitation only. So if you want to go there you’d better find someone with invitations.”
“That’s why I’m here,” Gizelle said as she glared at Emily.
“Oh, so you thought you could sweet talk Bekim into taking you?” She laughed. “Sorry, honey, he’ll be too busy to play with you. He is responsible for dressing several top models like Camille.”
“Who’s Camille?” Gizelle asked.
“Who’s Camille? Bekim, where did you find this one? Camille is one of the hottest models ever to grace the catwalk.”
Gizelle still looked puzzled.
“Don’t think too hard, honey,” Bekim told her. “It doesn’t matter.”
He looked over at Emily and shook his head at her. Emily had this bemused look on her face. She can be so petty.
“I can’t take you to Fashion Week, but how about I take you to lunch today?”
“But it’s after twelve,” Gizelle protested.
“I know a place that serves lunch all day,” Bekim told the heiress. He rose from his chair and reached for his jacket.
Gizelle rose. “I hope they let dogs in because I’m not going anywhere without Peaches.”
Emily just chuckled and walked away from his door.
“Sure, honey. This place loves dogs.”
* * * *
Emily chuckled all the way back to her office until she realized that Bekim was about to go out on a date. She absently touched her stomach as she entered the room. He was making the decision easier for her. But she couldn’t think about that right now. She still had so many things to do like make sure all the models knew what they were supposed
to wear for Fashion Week, and make sure they were available, since some models were in top demand. Plus, she still needed to make appointments to get her hair and nails done. Lastly she had to stop at the drug store to pick up her prescriptions before she went to the grocery.
Bekim returned around two, minus Gizelle and looking very tired. She didn’t know how he had time for a personal life when he had so many customers clamoring for his attention. She still hadn’t seen his designs for the Grammies, but she was sure they’d be spectacular. Bekim never messed around when it came to work. He was a professional and she expected no less from him.
“I’m back,” he said, sticking his head into her door.
“How was lunch?”
“Great.”
“Did Peaches enjoy the ambiance?”
Bekim scowled. “Damn little mutt yapped all through the meal. There was one time I thought we’d be asked to leave. Pets are worse than babies when it comes to enjoying a meal in a restaurant.”
Emily tried to keep a straight face. Is that really how he feels? “You don’t like babies?”
“Who me? Yes, I love babies. But not in restaurants or on planes.” He waved to her and continued down the hall to his office.
Emily pushed a button on her keyboard to wake up her monitor and went back to checking her email. There was one message from her doctor reminding her of her next appointment, a couple from some of her old friends, and loads of spam. She got rid of the spam, signed out, and then surfed over to the company’s site on Facebook to answer questions about fashion from some of their fans. Bekim had talked her father into opening the account and so far it had turned out to be a pretty good idea. Both males and females who just needed a little advice on how to look good for special occasions visited the site frequently.