Get a grip of yourself, Isabella! I tried to rebuke myself at how the things he has been doing have been getting reactions out of me. For crying out loud, it has only been a few days since we signed the contract, and he is already getting reactions from me, this is not what I had planned. This is not how things are supposed to be.
So, I scolded myself to remember what this is all for truly, why I decided to go down this lane, and why I swore off men and relationships. Stacking my walls up high again, higher than they were before, I got up and went through the dress rack again, picking up the perfect one for both work and the meeting-eventually picking out a pale rose dress that reached just a few inches above my ankle. I paired it up with white stilettos and purse, along with a bracelet and small pearl necklace and studs.
For my hair, I tied it up into a perfect bun, feeling the professional aura quite a bit today. Once I was done, I added light makeup before I made my way to the underground parking lot where Amy was waiting for me with the car ready and my cup of coffee for the day ready.
“Thank you.” I offered her a grin as I brought the cup to my lips, taking a sip of the freshly brewed coffee shop coffee, releasing a sigh of relief afterwards as my shoulders slackened. Leaning back on my chair, my brows drew in when Amy turned around and passed me a folder.
“Thought you will want to start going over work now considering you will be out of the office later.” She said, after I took the folder from her, my brows drawn in question of what it is about so, she added. “The PR team put together a list of potential models for the upcoming fashion show, like you asked.”
“Oh,” My lips parted as I nodded. She turned around and revved the car to life, driving out of the driveway and onto the busy New York road while I crossed my legs and went through the folder filled with well-known models and their resumes, along with the reasons why the PR team handpicked them as those we could potentially work with for this project.
I meticulously went through it, vetting them all in my mind and mentally checking those I want to have look into more and those I deemed worthy of getting in without much digging in-though they are not escaping that. I need to makeup I get those with good reputation to avoid this going haywire.
When I reached a particular someone I did not expect to reach there, my brows drew in even more if possible. All it took was a single look over her resume before I removed her part and placed it on the passenger seat for Amy. “Blacklist her.” I said, my tone firm, and low as I focused my attention back on my current task in hand.
Amy threw a quick glance at it as we were in traffic, recognizing the person there before she met my gaze through the rearview. “Isabella, I know you have personal issues with her, but Crystal is a really good model.” She sighed, her tone serious. “Personal life aside, she is amongst the biggest ones we could get. She is getting all the rave now. We cannot just blacklist her.”
All the while Amy was saying that, I never looked up to meet her gaze, not when I was occupied flicking through the pages of the folder in my hand, continuing to vet the others. “How long have you known me, Amy?” I mumbled, though loud enough for her to hear.
“Nearly a decade.” She said, the confusion in her tone hard to miss no doubt wondering why I am asking her that.
“Ten years.” I agreed, still not looking up for only half my attention was on her, the other half is on my task at hand. “Am I the type of person to blacklist her because of personal affairs?” I looked up, meeting her gaze through the rearview mirror. “Am I that jobless and petty?”
Amy folded her lips in, not knowing what to say because she knows the answer without giving it any thoughts. When she did not say anything, I sighed and focused my attention back on the folder in my hand. “Blacklist her.” I repeated. “I am not going to say it again.” I added.
Amy nodded, “Got it.” She did not argue with me on the issue further, which I appreciated as she continue driving and in no time, we were at the company. The hours pretty much passed by in a blur with my nose buried in my work, completely losing track of time between meetings, setting appointments and going through countless documents and signing them.
A beep from my phone caught my attention just as I was nose deep into the nth folder of the day. I reached my hand to pick up the phone without looking away from the file until the screen was in my face, and I was met with the sight of message that came through.
Christian: I am here. Waiting for you in the driveway.
Just as I was about to text him a reply and ask why he is here so early, my eyes fell on the time only to realize it is five minutes past 2, and it has been over five minutes since he sent the message.
“Fuck.” I cursed under my breath, flicking the folder closed as I pushed my chair back. Reaching out to pick up my bag with my phone in hand, I rushed out of the office, meeting Amy on the way out to which I left instructions on how to cover for the entire day as I reached the elevator.
During the little elevator trip down, I stared at my reflection in the mirror there, patting my hair back in place and touching my lipstick. By the time I was done, the doors flicked open, and I stepped out, making my way into the driveway where I stopped him almost instantly. Just like a few days ago when he picked me up at my place, he was standing out and leaning on his car, looking as though he is ready to model. I do not know the man manage to do it, but he makes suits look sexy as hell.
His gaze met mine and his lips slowly slanted upwards into a smile, as he pushed himself to stand straight. I did not offer him a smile back, but I did start to make my way towards him, but I only took a few steps when an unfamiliar face came in sight, stopping me midway.
“Miss Montague?” The unfamiliar man in a branded top asked.
My brows drew in as I gave him a onceover, the branded top showing he is from a delivery agency. “Yes?”
He offered me a small smile, then extended his hand out which held a freshly picked bouquet of blood red roses, similar to those that have been sent to my office occasionally over the past two years. “I have a delivery for you.” He stated.
I blinked, wondering who it could be from and subconsciously, I threw a quick glance at the man standing on the other end. But, the slight narrowing of his eyes showed that it was not from him which only surprised me further. I will not lie, I did consider whether he was the one sending it to me because no other man came to my mind but I never gave it much thought, especially since I have not received any since we crossed paths again-it was only natural I assumed he is behind it.
I was even meaning to ask him but something always comes to mind, so I end up forgetting and kept on missing that little detail. However, realizing at this moment that it is not from him changed this entire thing.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.