“You’ll be modeling,” Cassandra said as a matter-of-fact.
Chyna didn’t even bother asking her how she knew. She hardly stuck with anything long enough, even when she had loved many, many things. Perhaps modeling would die out for her as well.
Though, the thought felt like a lie even when she was thinking it.
“I appreciate your confidence, but I just haven’t decided about this fall yet.”
Cassandra tilted her head to the side as if she didn’t understand. She looked half like she wanted to laugh and the other half like she was taken aback. Her reaction was perplexing to say the least. Chyna had been modeling for all of a month and a half, but she had been around it her entire life. She had never heard of a Cassandra in the fashion industry. It didn’t mean that she didn’t exist. It just meant that she wasn’t important.
“Well, I can’t say I’ll save a spot for you, but if you change your mind, do give me a call,” Cassandra finally told her.
“I’ll do that,” Chyna said dryly.
Cassandra did laugh this time. At what, Chyna had no clue. Cassandra turned on her heel then and slowly began to slink back to where she came from.
“Wait!” Chyna called, glancing around to make sure she wasn’t disturbing anyone. “You didn’t tell me how to reach you.”
Cassandra turned back to face Chyna without a trace of laughter left in her eyes.
“Just ask Marco.”
“Great,” she muttered under her breath as Cassandra walked away. She had all but turned down a job offer without a consolation prize from Marco, and the only way she knew how to get in contact with this odd Cassandra woman was through the one person who would want to keep her away from anyone else. Not that she had any intention of taking some lame collection-modeling gig. She could do better than that, and she would.
When she glanced back up, she found Marco striding in her direction. She placed her empty Champagne glass on the tray of a passing waiter and braced herself for impact.
“My little star,” he murmured softly as soon as he reached her. “You’ve been gone much too long.”
“Hardly any time at all,” she corrected.
“You had company,” he stated plainly.
Somehow, she heard the threat in his voice.
“Everyone wants to marvel at your genius. It seems you have had another successful event,” she said, playing to his ego when all she wanted to do was bruise it.
“Of course it was, but what were you doing talking to her?” he asked, grabbing her arm and pulling her out of the center of the dance floor. He leaned in closer, so they wouldn’t be overheard.
“She was talking to me,” Chyna said, trying to pull out of his grasp.
“Why would she talk to you in the first place?” he growled, his brown eyes boring into her.
Chyna glared back at him, wanting none of this attitude right now. “What does it even matter? No one can talk to me?”
Marco laughed lightly at her. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m not being ridiculous,” she said, turning her chin and facing the other direction. She was tired of the game, and she just wanted to know what was going to become of all of this. Was he going to offer her the job or not? If only she could just ask him.
“You’re getting all worked up. While I like that, it is entirely unnecessary in this situation, and you should maybe hold on to that energy for later. You’re going to need it,” he said, running a hand down her arm.
“I’m not the only one getting worked up,” Chyna responded.
“Nor will you be later.”
“So, why shouldn’t she be talking to me?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.
Marco laughed again at her ignorance.
“Don’t you know who that is?”
Chyna hated admitting her lack of knowledge, but she shook her head.
“She kept her maiden name despite her marital status,” he said, clearly enjoying drawing this out for her. “Cassandra Corsa.”
Cassandra Corsa. Chyna was floored, destroyed, and totally dumbfounded.
“She is Clarice Corsa’s granddaughter and the owner of the Corsa fashion line.
She’s one of the wealthiest women in the world.”
And, Chyna just turned her down for a job. Fuck!
CHAPTER 4
MARCH FOUR MONTHS EARLIER
“Why?
I don’t understand Mr.
Whatever-His-Name-Is at all,” Chyna repeated for what felt like the tenth time.
“Does this have to happen every time I get called into work late?” Adam demanded, pushing his hands into his pockets deeper and deeper.
She knew he was frustrated. He had it written all over him, but she couldn’t stop.
Why was he always the one who had to go in? And, what did they need him to do at ten o’clock at night at an architectural company? Wouldn’t the buildings still be standing the next day?
“Because you always have to go to work late,” she reminded him. “Why don’t you ask someone else to go for you?”
“It’s a small company. I’m the only other person working on this building, and there’s a deadline. Mr. Anderson is an old man. He doesn’t get the graphic architectural design aspect as well as he should, and he trusts me,” he said, looking down at the ground, shuffling his feet.
“What would you say?”
She knew what she would say! The same thing she had been saying to him all along: Why even bother with this company? Why bother with an old senile man and a company going nowhere in today’s market? It was a dead-end job with shit hours. She wished he could see that, but she couldn’t say that to him. Not today. He looked too heartbroken to even consider turning down Mr. Whatever-His- Name-Is, and she figured he liked his job.
Why else would he keep going back when he could do better? She wondered that about a lot of things with him.
“I’d tell him that I couldn’t work tonight,” she finally answered.
It was the best she could do. It wouldn’t work. He would still go in, but she couldn’t hold it back. She couldn’t lie to him.
Adam sighed and looked off across the room, not meeting her eye. He looked as if he knew that she was going to say that.
“Do you want me to call him back?”
Adam asked dejectedly.
Chyna looked at him very closely. Was he serious? Would he actually try to get out of work for her? God, he looked like he actually would. She groaned. “Noooo,”