Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 91216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
As I get into my truck and drive off, I glance back at Chloe’s house. The single strand of Christmas lights is about to turn on, like they are every night when I leave. And like always, I promise myself that this will be the last time I come around to watch her from afar.
But deep down inside, I know that’s a lie.
Chloe Hallman is my drug.
Chapter Three
Chloe
Taking the ferry from St. George to Manhattan, I lean against the railing as the salty breeze whips through my hair. I should go inside as it’s butt cold, but there’s something about the view of the wall of glass and steel ahead of me that mentally prepares me for my meetings at Moth to the Flame Designs. I have to go through the steps of my hype game one more time. Deep breath in, deep breath out.
I am a creative powerhouse.
My ideas are fresh and innovative.
I wouldn’t have been asked to be their brand ambassador if I didn’t have the something something.
I’ve got this.
I only come into the office a couple times a week to pick up the jewelry they want me to showcase and attend a few meetings. You’d think I’d get used to it, but I always feel so out of my league when I walk into the building and face the sleek, polished interior and the impeccably dressed employees. But this is where I’ll be expected to dazzle them with my social media prowess and convince them I’m worth every penny of my admittedly generous contract.
I straighten my secondhand blazer—although vintage and, in my opinion, trendy—and try to channel the confidence I mustered on the ferry. The elevator ride to the fourteenth floor feels endless, my stomach doing somersaults as I ascend.
As the doors open, I’m greeted by the familiar scent of leather and expensive perfume. I paste on my best influencer smile and strut toward the reception desk, my knock-off heels clacking on the marble floor.
“Good morning, Chloe,” the receptionist chirps, her perfect teeth gleaming. “Sloane is waiting for you in the showroom.”
“Thanks, Marissa,” I reply, trying to match her enthusiasm.
The showroom door looms before me, and I take one last deep breath before pushing it open. The room is bathed in soft, flattering light that makes every piece of jewelry sparkle like stars.
Sloane, one of the designers, and someone I truly consider a friend, stands in the center of the room, her red hair swept into an elegant updo. She turns to me with a smile. “We have such great new pieces for the holidays. Wait until you see these.”
As I approach Sloane, my eyes are immediately drawn to the dazzling array of jewelry spread out on the velvet-lined trays before her. Delicate gold chains adorned with shimmering crystals, bold statement pieces in vibrant gemstones, and intricately designed rings that catch the light from every angle. Though Moth to the Flame is known for affordable “costume jewelry” the pieces are always elegant and have a level of class that blows me away. It’s a treasure trove of beauty, and for a moment, I forget my insecurities.
“Oh my god, Sloane,” I breathe, my eyes widening as I take in the stunning collection. “These are absolutely gorgeous.”
Sloane beams, her pride evident in her sparkling eyes. “I knew you’d love them. This season, we’re really focusing on versatility and timeless elegance with a modern twist.”
She picks up a delicate necklace, a teardrop-shaped moonstone pendant suspended from a fine gold chain. “This piece, for example, can be worn as a simple pendant or,” she deftly manipulates the chain, “converted into a lariat style for a more dramatic look.”
I nod, already envisioning the perfect way to showcase this adaptable piece. “That’s brilliant. My followers will go crazy for the two-in-one aspect.”
As Sloane continues to show me the collection, my initial nervousness fades away, replaced by genuine excitement. This is why I love what I do—the buzz of discovering new, beautiful things and sharing them with the world. My mind is already racing with ideas for photoshoots and video concepts to showcase these pieces.
“And here’s the pièce de résistance,” Sloane says, a mischievous glint in her eye. She reaches behind her and produces a velvet box, opening it with a flourish.
Inside lies a pair of earrings that take my breath away. They’re chandelier-style, cascading with tiny, iridescent opals that catch the light and throw rainbows across the room. The design is intricate yet modern, a perfect balance of elegance and edge.
Opals were my mother’s birthstone and her favorite.
“My mom would have adored these,” I say, more to myself than to Sloane.
“I remember your mom always loved opals,” Sloane says, her voice gentle. “That’s part of why I chose this stone when I designed this piece. In memory of her great taste.”
“Sloane . . .” I swallow back my emotion. “These are definitely going to be the star of the holiday collection,” I say, my voice stronger now, infused with newfound confidence. “I have so many ideas for how to showcase them.”