Chapter 31
This kiss was not for show, after all, it was just them in here. No cameras, no Paparazzi and no reporters. Just the two of them. So, what can this be?
Isla struggled at first, her hands pushing against his chest. But he was too strong. When his tongue slipped between her lips, she froze. Then, to her own betrayal, her resistance melted.
Her hands slid up to his shoulders, clinging to him as heat coiled low in her stomach, spreading fast, making her body tremble. She could already feel the dampness between her thighs.
No, this was not happening. Not now. She was melting into the kiss. Her mind was everywhere, the show, and Gabriel. This was not how things should be. Yet she couldn’t fight him, instead, she was shamelessly giving in to him.
How can someone love a man this much? She had no choice than to let go. Not when he was all she could think about and breathe in.
Gabriel groaned against her lips when she kissed him back. The moment grew hungrier, deeper, like time itself had paused for them.
Until someone knocked at the door.
The sound snapped Isla back. She shoved Gabriel away with all the strength she could gather, breathing hard.
“Gabriel? Are you in there?” a familiar voice called.
It was Delphine.
Gabriel didn’t move his gaze from Isla. His eyes were still burning with desire as he replied, “Yes. I’m here- with my wife. Can you leave us alone p>
“What?” Delphine’s voice cracked from the other side of the door.
Isla wiped her lips with the back of her hand, glaring at Gabriel with narrowed eyes. Then she muttered a phrase, “The audacity p>
She yanked the lock open and stormed out, her steps were fast and angry. But not without casting a glare at Delphine.
Delphine glared back at Isla, then she plastered a smile, only to fuel Isla’s rage. Something about that smile unsettled Isla. She shook it off and walked away quickly.
“Thank God, Isla, you’re finally here!” Jeff hurried up to her, his face creased with worry. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you p>
“Slow down,” Isla said, trying to compose herself. “What’s wrong? Clara still hasn’t shown up p>
Jeff’s silence answered her. She looked around–the models were nearly ready, the stylists doing their last touches, but Clara was missing.
“Okay,” Isla thought aloud. “Then let Tyler step in. She can take Clara’s role p>
1/2
Jeff shook his head instantly. “No, that won’t work. Tyler is curvier, and the main pieces were custom–made for Clara’s body. Altering them now would take too much time p>
Isla dragged her fingers through her long blonde hair, frustration tearing at her. “We only have two minutes left. The lead model must open the show. If she doesn’t, the whole order collapses p>
“I know,” Jeff said, his voice tense.
“Then something has to be done!” Isla’s voice rose, sharp and loud. Everyone in the room turned to look at her, surprised. Isla had never raised her voice like that before.
“What?” she demanded, looking at all their faces. “Why are you all staring at me like I’m your last option? ”
Jeff took a deep breath, then reached for her hand. His grip was firm, and steady, almost apologetic. “I’m sorry, Isla. But there’s only one solution left.” He looked straight into her eyes. “You.” He said. “Clara is your size. You can wear her designs p>
21
“No.” Isla gasped, shaking her head. “I haven’t modeled in years! And you-” she broke off, realizing, “You dug into my past, didn’t you p>
Jeff didn’t answer.
“I can’t do this,” she whispered. “I can’t even walk in those shoes. They’re too high, and I’m not trained for this p>
Jeff squeezed her hand tighter. “You’ll be fine. Trust me.” He nodded, firm and reassuring.
The others nodded too, silently agreeing with him.
Isla shook her head. “Look, what I did in college was not professional modelling, it was just a beauty pageant and we were trained to walk like models, yes. But that was years ago p>
Π
Jeff looked at Sofie and for a few seconds, their eyes stayed locked. Silence filled the room for a brief moment.
Isla was still pacing around when she was suddenly pulled into the chair as Jeff signaled the stylist. And before she could argue again, the stylist’s hands were already moving on her, as they tended to her hair and skin.
Her protests died on her lips as she sat frozen, realizing the decision had already been made for her. Now, she could only hope for the best.
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Florence is a passionate reader who finds joy in long drives on rainy days. She’s also a fan of Italian makeup tutorials, blending beauty and elegance into her everyday life.