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Fake Empire(35)

Author:C.W. Farnsworth

Crew抯 eyes hold mine hostage as he reaches behind me and tugs at the zipper of my dress. I feel the back gape open and slide down. He pulls the fabric over my shoulders. With a quiet whoosh, the silk hits the floor, leaving me standing in my bra and underwear. He doesn抰 drop his gaze. Blue burns me, roots me in place.

His touch is clinical and detached. Neither hand lingers as he unsnaps my bra and lowers my thong. In seconds, I抦 naked before him.

揇o you need me to get you anything??He holds eye contact, not looking lower.

揑厰 I clear my throat and shake my head. 揑抦 good.?

Arousal is a better stimulant than caffeine. I抦 no longer worried about falling asleep and accidentally drowning. I抦 standing in front of him, totally naked, while he抯 completely dressed. After he ran me a bath. And Crew is acting like all of this is a normal occurrence.

揑抣l be having a drink in the library if you need me.?There抯 no missing the teasing in his tone. I hope it抯 because I called him predictable and not because he suspects I spent nights in Paris spying on him.

揙kay.?The word flies out fast.

He needs to get out of here. Before I find out how serious he was about the begging. Before I beg.

Crew disappears, closing the bathroom door behind him. I climb into the tub, letting the hot water envelop my body inch by inch until I抦 accustomed to the temperature. It feels like heaven. The steam clears my head and the warmth chases away the long day of travel followed by work.

I sit in the tub until the water starts to cool. Once it抯 tepid, I climb out and pull on a silk robe, not bothering to dry my hair or brush it. When I walk back into my bedroom, there抯 a glass of water on the table next to the bed. Along with a bottle of Tylenol. I stall in place for a few seconds, unexpected emotions threatening to overwhelm me.

After taking two pills, I slip between the cool sheets and immediately fall asleep.

CHAPTER EIGHT

CREW

Her eyes widen she sees me. Barely, but I抦 watching her closely enough to see the subtle shift in her face. Aside from her eyes, Scarlett抯 expression remains sanguine. Two women are trailing her. One is typing frantically on her phone, probably taking notes. The other is balancing a tall stack of binders.

Scarlett抯 steps don抰 falter as she strides straight toward me. As they near, I can hear what she抯 saying. 揌opkins should be booked for Thursday. Tell him I want two locations, preferably three. I handled the models already and all the samples from Chanel should be arriving on Monday. Tell Jeanette Richardson I need her piece on the wildlife foundation next week or she抣l be bumped until next year. Same with the travel feature. I抣l need final versions by Wednesday.?

She stops at my side. 揅rew.?

揝carlett.?

揜eady??

揧ou抮e not going to introduce me??

Scarlett shoots me an annoyed look before turning back to the two women. 揅rew, this is Leah, my main assistant.?

A petite woman with a blonde bob and black glasses gives me a small smile.

揂nd Andrea, my head of editorial content.?

揕ovely to meet you both.?I smile.

Andrea gives me an unimpressed look, while Leah looks away. Working with Scarlett has clearly rubbed off on them.

揑抣l be in the office tomorrow, if you need to reach me,?Scarlett says. Her tone is brisk. Both women hang on to every word. 揇id you bring the Lorenzo sketches??she asks Andrea.

Wordlessly, Andrea hands over one of the binders. Scarlett opens it and flips through a few of the pages. 揚erfect. Good night.?

揋ood night,?they both chorus, ignoring me. Whatever impression Scarlett has given them of me, it hasn抰 been complimentary. And they抮e loyal to her, the sort of loyalty that can抰 be bought, only earned. It makes me admire her more, and there wasn抰 a lack of it to begin with. She bought this flailing magazine and turned it into a thriving enterprise. I抦 impressed. Proud梔espite the fact I have no credit to claim. My sole contribution is that Scarlett seems set on spending as little time in my company as possible. If she抯 actually spending the bulk of the time she抯 not at the penthouse working, she抯 logging ninety-hour weeks.

I move, straightening from the side of the limo I抳e been leaning against, and open the door. Andrea and Leah disappear back inside the building that houses Haute抯 offices, leaving us on the bustling street.

揥hat a gentleman.?

揧ou抎 think differently if you trusted yourself to be alone with me.?

Scarlett抯 eyes flash as she slides onto the leather seat, arranging the blue organza so it covers up the flash of calf I just caught. The gown she抯 wearing is off-the-shoulder with a sweetheart neckline that dips between the curves of her breasts. Standing while she sits offers one hell of a view.

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