Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 133138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Looking into her eyes, I see intelligence hiding behind her worries and a strength that’s magnetic. She intrigues me, this American girl. She’s clearly still worried that I’m going to berate her in front of everyone.
But perhaps I should teach her a lesson. Because what was that raunchy display all about?
For a long moment, I let the tension draw out. “It would be beneficial if you are more careful and on your best behavior from here on out,” I warn quietly, my eyes flicking down to her generous cleavage.
She catches her breath, unintentionally presenting herself for my eyes to feast upon, and I swallow thickly when I see her nipples stiffen beneath the garish polyester. “Yes, sir,” she replies before dropping her eyes.
I’m instantly rock hard in my slacks. Is she flirting? Someone watching wouldn’t think so, but that’s what I’m feeling. Is she playing coy to garner favor for the contest, perhaps? Or is she truly naturally meek?
If so, that will be a problem. Fashion is cruel, destroying even the most egotistical designers and models easily. But I remember the way she straightened her spine when I walked into the room, and even now, though her eyes lowered at first, she’s lifted them once again.
That strength will be important if she has any hope of competing with the other finalists.
I turn, giving her my back, and walk away a few steps, leaving a breathless Autumn to watch me take the center of the room to address the group.
“Welcome to House Corbin,” I tell them all, my voice strong and commanding. “This will be your place to work, to strive, and to achieve for the next month. The three fashion shows that comprise the contest will all be held within the month. The first of which is in a mere five days.”
The girls stiffen, realizing how serious things are despite the silly costumes and antics of their morning. “Now, the rules,” I begin. “Rule one. You will have all the material and supplies you desire. Do not feel constrained in any regard as to your creativity. Two, we understand that such short timelines require some concessions. You will be allowed to outsource portions of the creation process—though not the designing—to our bank of expert seamstresses. We are interested in what you can design and what is possible, not whether you can stitch it yourself. Three, you are to manage your own time. You are all professionals. We have provided a workspace you may use if you’d like. Or work in your provided apartments, or at a café table. It matters not. Completion of your designs on time to walk the runway is solely your responsibility.”
There’s a murmur of agreement.
I pause and look directly at Autumn even as I address the whole group. “Follow all rules. No questions asked.”
Next to her, Molly grins. “Oh, Daddy, don’t threaten me with a good time,” she says, causing a couple of the women to giggle.
I’d like to join in, but instead I level them all with my steeliest gaze. “Is everything clear?”
They nod like bobbleheads, and I dip my chin toward Tobias, giving him the floor. He gives me a look of ‘we’ll have to gossip about whatever this was later’ but smiles warmly at the designers. “If you’d like to follow me, I’ll show you to the workspace Monsieur Corbin spoke of.”
The women follow him from the room, and I watch as Autumn wobbles slightly in her ridiculously high boots. With my eyes, I trace the shape of her calf up to the pale strip of thigh between the boots and skirt and curl my hands in desire to make that trek with my fingers.
Going out through the door disguised to look like a bookcase, I enter a back hallway and take the shortcut up to my aunt’s office. I knock once on the door and wait for permission to enter.
“Entrez,” I hear from the other side of the glossy white door.
Inside, Jacqueline sits behind her glass desk, studying a stack of white papers in front of her. “Ah! Simon, come in. Did you meet with the girls?”
I sit in one of the white leather chairs in front of her desk, eyeing her carefully to judge her mood. It’s a skill I learned long ago and have had experience practicing.
“Women, Jacqueline. Or simply finalists. None of them are girls,” I correct, taking a calculated risk. “And yes.”
Jacqueline waves her hand dismissively. “They are here to work, to bring House Corbin to new heights. If that is possible.”
Her superiority complex is impressive in its size.
“It matters. We will be doing interviews, introductions, and presentations on the competition in the coming weeks. The marketing is centered on House Corbin supporting young female designers like you once were, ones who need exposure and opportunity.”
The Fashion Females Under 25 competition might have been my idea, but Jacqueline is the public face of it. I’m suddenly worried that she will use and manipulate these women, perhaps take advantage of their creativity and leave them empty-handed. It’s an idea I hadn’t previously considered. Jacqueline is cold and austere, but honorable in her arrogance.