Page 123 of By A Thread

“Are you like one of those fortune tellers who spouts generic crap until they hit the mark?” I joked.

He grinned, then continued. “I see a woman who would do anything for the people who have earned her loyalty. Someone who’ll stand up for those who can’t. I see someone who is fighting tooth and nail for something… or someone.”

I frowned into my champagne.

“And I see that you have a very complicated relationship with Dominic Russo.”

“Oh, come on. Not you, too. Is it a full moon tonight? This entire city is obsessed with the guy.”

“From where I stand, the guy is obsessed with you,” Christian insisted.

“Okay, enough of this artistic babble. You’re starting to freak me out.”

“Don’t be embarrassed. You’re amazing. Own it.”

“I can’t afford to own anything right now.”

“Then that’s where this dress comes in,” he said. “You’re stunning. And bold. And your boss is going to have a coronary in about half an hour.”

“I don’t care if Dominic ever looks at me again,” I lied. My neck immediately started itching.

Christian’s smirk told me he wasn’t buying it.

“I don’t,” I doubled down. “He had his chance, and I have too much self-respect. I just want to make him suffer. Like a lot. But not enough for me to lose my job. It’s a fine line to walk.”

He flashed those dimples at me. “Then let’s make the man suffer.”

“Are you sure this is okay? I’m a nobody in the fashion world, and I don’t look anything like the rest of these women.” I looked around at the models in the midst of hair and makeup and fittings. They were all half-naked and looked bored.Just another day at the office.

“That’s the point. Besides, I’ve never walked the end of a show with anyone. It’ll get the press talking. You don’t mind, do you?”

“I might wreck your entire show and ruin your launch, your career, and then your life. I’m not very lucky right now.”

“I’ll take my chances. Maybe you should take a couple of your own.”

God willing, in a few short months, the house would be sold, Dad’s bills would be covered, and I could afford to take a few chances. Maybe start a new life somewhere nowhere near Dominic Russo. Perhaps the West Coast. Or I don’t know, Thailand? Although, I wouldn’t feel comfortable leaving my dad. Not now. Maybe I’d just vacation in Thailand?

Bottom line. A little fashion industry speculation would have zero effect on my life.

“Eh. It’s fine. Let’s go stir up some shit,” I decided.

“Good. It’ll be fun,” he promised.

42

Dominic

The show was finally about to start, and I was beyond grateful because it meant that in thirty minutes I:

A) could give up the pretense of small talk and schmoozing.

B) had time for one more drink.

C) could go home and forget about Ally and that goddamn red dress.

Lying to myself was my new favorite hobby.

Of course she’d look like that in fucking couture. Half angel, half devil in siren red. But I’d still be compelled to watch her from across the room if she’d showed up in sweatpants and an I Heart NYC sweatshirt.