Page 9 of Worth Every Moment

“Who says it would ruin anything?”

“Seb. Please don’t push me on this. Aside from the fact I don’t want to date you, I could never do it because your reputation would damage my brand.”

“What reputation? I’m pretty eligible. Actually, I’m a fucking catch.”

“Sure. But not for me. You have that whole arrogant playboy thing going on, and it just doesn’t work with what I’ve built. Mum and I have carefully managed this brand for years. Erica Lefroy is elegance, sophistication, and purity. It’s not random sex on a Friday night with a hot dude in a suit.”

“Hot dude?”

“Yeah. You’re a hot dude in a suit who likes to party and have casual sex. We don’t match. I’m sorry. Let’s just be grateful for what we have.”

Cut and dry. Erica Lefroy was choosing her career over me. And maybe she was right to do so because she’s risen to become the most famous model in the world. Britain’s most lucrative export, after the Royal Family. She certainly had her eye on the prize, and it wasn’t me.

While rejection quietly devastated me, I was grateful for whatever she would give me. Movie nights on the sofa. Drinks at parties. She’s always the one I gravitate to in a room, and our social lives overlap a fair bit, so there’s been no shortage of opportunities to get to know each other. She probably wouldn’t say the same, but Erica Lefroy is my favourite person in the whole damn world, even if she’s determined to control the circumstances of our every meeting to make sure her business doesn't take a hit. Fuck knows what will happen to me when she finds someone she actually wants to be with. I’m not sure I could handle becoming the third wheel in that relationship. I’d probably have to step away entirely.

“Where were you?” Kate whispers, a worried expression on her face as she drags me from my somewhat unpleasant thoughts.

“Wishing Erica good luck,” I explain.

Kate shakes her head. “You’ll distract her.”

Amy, on the other side of Nico and Kate, pokes forward again. “Erica doesn’t get distracted.”

I roll my eyes.Don’t I know it.

Amy leans across and grabs my knee with a claw-like hand. Kate and Nico tilt back to give her access, amused expressions on their faces as they share a glance. “You’re so adorable,” Amy coos. “I wish I had a fan like you in my corner.” She scrunches her nose as she smiles at me.

I’m pretty sure they’re all laughing at me.Fuck it.

I settle in my seat as the models stream out; orderly, rhythmic, evenly spaced like aeroplanes lifting off the ground. Choreographed. There’s a predictability to it that pleases me.

When Erica appears at the end of the runway, my breath stalls somewhere between my lungs and my throat like it does every fucking time I see her. She’s impossibly beautiful. More so in real life than in any static image. Her face is everywhere now, on posters around the city, rotating on billboards at bus stops for whatever perfume she’s the face of.Erica Lefroy. World famous for her perfect face, her cheekbones, her eyes… all of which are seared into my mind. If our friendship ever went south, I’d be haunted by visions of her face.

She doesn’t even look my way. Not that I’d expect her to. She’s a professional, her gaze fixed on the mid-distance. She begins the walk, all toned legs, high heels, and shimmering tulle skirt, so short it’s barely there at all. Everyone in the room is looking at her; the other models become completely inconsequential because Erica’s presence takes up every ounce of space. She might think she’s channelling grace, elegance, and purity, butthere’s a lot more going on. Each step emanates feminine power as she strides down the runway in time to the music like some otherworldly beauty who’s deigned to visit the lowly humans, only to take up residence as their queen.

Erica Lefroy.

The one woman I can’t have, and the only one I truly want.

4

ERICA

The runway never ceases to get my adrenaline going; the thumping music and bright lights; the audience’s rapt energy tingling over my skin like magic.

Seb is sitting in the front row. I can’t look, but I sense his presence like the pull of a magnet I have to resist.

Is he paying attention, or is he flirting with someone else? Is he watchin—

Snap.

Almost inaudible over the music, the crack jars up my leg. It happens in a split second, my brain struggling to catch up.Is that my foot or the shoe?

My ankle twists and my knee buckles. Pain surges through me, panic wrenching at my chest.

My arms fly out to break my fall, but I’m going sideways, not forward.

A piece of the twisted heel skitters across the runway as my body slams to the ground.