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FASHION WEEK
The plane touches down in London, and my nerves take over. Harper grabs my hand and squeezes it as we deboard. Brody follows behind us, not saying a word. We climb inside the blacked-out SUV, and the extra security my brother hired follows in another vehicle.
We head toward the W, a luxurious hotel that only needs one letter. The London location is one of my favorites, with the best views of the city. Conveniently, the fashion shows are held in the venue next door and have private entrances from the hotel.
Our crew, designers, and models arrived a few days ago to organize everything, and I’ve been updated on timelines and clothing arrivals. We are ready for tomorrow, and I plan to do a walk-through a few hours before our show begins. Josh’s feature is directly after mine, and I’m dreading it because I know I’ll have to see him.
Exhaustion covers me, and I’m already suffering from jet lag. I’ve been working myself to the bone, but it’s almost over. My stress level is at its max, and my anxiety is at an all-time high.
The vehicle zooms away, and Harper pulls out her phone as I stare at the fading sky.
Brody turns to me. “He’s arrived.”
I know he’s referring to Asher.
A smile touches my lips, and butterflies swarm me. “Best news I’ve heard all day.”
We’re keeping up appearances throughout this event until the Lustre stuff is finalized. After my showcase tomorrow, we’re running away together for two weeks. I’m looking forward to spending every waking and sleeping hour with him. It’s a silver lining.
“What’s the plan if Josh approaches me?” I ask Brody, somewhat concerned.
“I’ll be ready to attack, if he has the balls.”
We’ve worked through this scenario several times after Josh texted me yesterday. I swear Brody has a hard-on for smashing in Josh’s face.
I think everyone knows that we will never ever get back together, everyone except for Josh. I’m convinced he thinks he’s smarter than me. He’s not.
When I walked out of his penthouse, I knew I’d never return to him. Enough was enough; for once, I chose myself and my dignity.
Eden was right about Josh, even though I didn’t want her to be. She was also right about Asher. I wish she were here so I could thank her. That letter has lived rent-free in my head for a little over five years. She wrote it to me a month before she passed away. I didn’t listen. I was too stubborn and thought I knew best. Not many people like Josh, but now I know why. It was a hard lesson I had to learn, one I wished I’d have avoided.
The SUV slows outside the W. The hotel entrance is surrounded by people lined up, trying to catch a glimpse of those arriving for the event.
Brody jumps out first to clear a path for Harper and me. “Stay close to me. Both of you.”
We’re greeted by paparazzi shouting our names.
“Billie! Billie! Right here! Harper! Smile!”
Brody instructs those rushing us for photos to back up. Flashing lights and clicking cameras overwhelm me as I move toward the hotel entrance. Harper grabs my hand, and I concentrate on putting one designer heel in front of the other while I try to cover my face.
“You okay?” she asks.
“I will be,” I explain.
She knows I hate big crowds of people.
We move to the front desk, where we are expedited. In less than a minute, penthouse keys are slid across the desk to Harper and me. I give Brody his, noticing the six buff guys in suits with earpieces, waiting off to the side.
“Do you think bringing the Secret Service was necessary?” I ask him.
“Yes,” he says. “If some shit goes down, it’ll ensure you and Harper are safe.”
He escorts us toward the elevator. We’re staying on the same floor so he can better monitor us. I don’t plan on leaving my room unless I have to.
The elevator stops on our floor with a ding, and we enter the hallway with marbled floors and high ceilings. There are three doors on this floor, all penthouses.
Brody leads the way to mine. “If you leave, promise you’ll tell me.”