Chapter Nine

Bianca

The street style at LFW was. . . well, there wasn’t one word for it. Let’s just say it was the time to select the most daring clothes from your closet.

Everyone knew it and it sort of became the expectation.

That was why nearly everyone in attendance—not just the models—were asked to pose for a photograph at one point or another. Blogs and magazines loved doing roundups on the street style, and showing off the best looks they saw.

For that reason, I had packed very intentionally and made sure to dress with care as I’d prepared to go to the first presentation of the week.

Meeting me in the hotel lobby, Knox’s jaw dropped when he saw me. “Wow, you look—” He drew a ragged breath. “Great.” His eyes roamed over my body appreciatively as he took in what I was wearing and I couldn’t help but blush.

It felt odd being away from him all this time and yet feeling like no time had passed. Even when we were just friends right before he left, he still made me blush. “Do you want to take my picture?” I asked, leaning forward as I did, going for allure like an Old Hollywood actress.

He swallowed like he wanted to say something, but decided against it and my stomach dropped. “I think the paparazzi will take enough pictures for the both of us, but you do look great.”

Really, what did I expect him to say? Upstairs now! Forget our commitment to our jobs and going to this presentation, I need to ravish you right now. I can’t wait another second to have you, to feel you, to be buried deep ins—

Yeah, none of that was going to happen. And if I knew one thing, it was that Knox wouldn’t be like any other man I’d been with. Because if he was, then we would’ve slept together long before he ever left.

I looked down at my zip-up denim long sleeve jumpsuit and red kitten heels with a bow and pearl T strap, and shrugged. “Thank you. Denim is really in right now.”

“That I know.”

Of course he knows. He works in fashion. “Enough about me, let me take a good look at you,” I said, scanning his body now. The way he looked in his khaki pants, sneakers, and leather jacket. . . oof. Was it wrong that all I wanted to do around this man was lick my lips? He was just so yummy.

No. Not yummy. That wasn’t right.

He had raw sexual magnetism. Basically, he was hot.

Geez, was it even legal for a man to look as smoking as he did?

I mean, if there was a fire in the building, it was because he was in it. He was in the building and igniting the flames. He was the cause of the fire, guys!

He chuckled, interrupting my visual. “See something you like?”

Okay, so clearly we were both physically attracted to one another. There was nothing to be ashamed of. I thought he was good looking. He obviously thought I was. . . something. I mean, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t notice the way he looked at me.

And I liked that, so sue me. I always was one to enjoy the appreciation I got from the opposite sex. It made me feel good. It was like food for my soul.

It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if we gave into our temptations, either, but we wouldn’t. At least I was pretty sure we wouldn’t.

See, we were friends, that was it. Well, we used to be friends. Now we were. . . acquaintances? I was trying to remind myself that giving into temptation with a friend was a bad idea, but now I was just sad by the whole notion that we were nothing more than acquaintances to each other. I frowned. I didn’t think I liked the sound of that.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, genuine concern in his voice. He must’ve noticed the change in my expression. But before I could answer, the alarm went off on his phone, and he sighed. “Come on, even if we take your car, we have to go or we’re never going to make it.”

Rushing out of the hotel with him, we got in my chauffeur-driven car without another word. Thankfully I didn’t need to tell the driver where we were going because he had a complete schedule.

I crossed my ankles and fussed with my purse in my lap. Fashion week was both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. It was a constant hustle and it seemed like every minute of my days were planned. But that was part of the deal.

“Thanks.” Knox’s one word statement had me whipping my head to him.

I gave him a confused look. “For what?”

He motioned all around us. “For this. For insisting we join forces.”

“Anytime.” The truth was, I may have been selfish in all of this because I missed Knox and this was my way of keeping him close. For now. And you don’t have to tell me, I knew it was silly, but that was how I felt.

“Not that I mind going it alone until Joann and Alicia get here, but this is definitely a step up from public transportation,” he said.

I nodded my understanding. Public transportation wasn’t bad but imagine having a six-show-per-day schedule with a venue change between each one. That would mean rushing to the Tube or the bus to make it to the next presentation or catwalk. “No one needs that kind of added stress,” I said simply, knowing he understood.

He nudged my elbow. “Yeah, this is nice.” Then he looked down at my heels. “Do you own any shoes that aren’t tall as fu—”

I put a hand up, stopping him. “Never mess with the shoes,” I said before bursting out in laughter.

Just as he was about to say something, the car stopped, and we pulled up to the venue for Rina Levana’s presentation.

Knox opened his door, since it was easier to get out on his side, and I slid across the seat, taking his strong hand to help me out. My breath caught in my throat and I looked up at him through hazy eyes. I must have done a lousy job at hiding my reaction to his touch because his eyes seemed transfixed on the pulse in my neck, watching as it sped up. I didn’t take my eyes off him as I got out and he closed the door behind me with his other hand. “Thank you,” I said.

He pressed his lips together as though fighting back a smile and cleared his throat before pulling his hand back, placing it in his pocket. “We should get going. The line is long.”

The queue wasn’t the worst place to be because it allowed you to chat with other attendees and see who else was invited. It also gave you a second to take a breather and really enjoy the street style. Neither of those things happened, though, because no sooner had we walked to the back of the line had the line started moving. And rapidly. That could mean only one thing—the organizers were ready and the presentation was starting soon.

Knox and I were at the back of the line, so it took a while to get inside and get seated. Typically, that meant we’d be stuck in the third or fourth row, seeing the back of people’s heads and watching the presentation through their phones raised in the air while they recorded the whole thing. However, luck must’ve been on our side because a good number of attendees were taking a look around and photographing everything in sight like tourists.

Knox grabbed my hand and pointed to front row seats on one side of the stage. “That’s the thing with new designers,” he said, “it’s rare they assign seats, so it doesn’t matter how important you are, if you don’t get a seat early, you wind up in the back.”

Letting him lead me to excellent seats, I teased him, “Is that how your blog gets front row seats—move fast?”

“Har. Har. We’re not all a worldwide magazine, you know. Some of us have to fight to be here.” He put his fists up, mimicking the motions from a boxing match.

With my eyes on him, I picked up the pamphlet from my chair, and raised an eyebrow.

He dropped his fists and reached for his own pamphlet. “Okay, I may be exaggerating, but that’s not the point.”

I nodded, my attention already on the press release printed on it as I sat down and placed it in my lap, my phone at the ready.

Meanwhile, Knox did the same, opting to snap a photo of the pamphlet. Then he stopped and read the collection name aloud—“Delightfully criminal. You know, I don’t hate it.”

“It’s definitely unique,” I noted.

He laughed. “It’s already a step up from last season. I don’t see anything about blooms or blossoming in the title.”

I gasped. “You mean you don’t love flowers so much you want to see them on every article of clothing?”

He shook his head, a serious expression on his face. “I just don’t see the appeal to floral prints, three-dimensional flowers and anything else that belongs in the dirt or a vase. It was great for one season, but the trend lasted way too long, in my opinion.”

I nodded in agreement. “I’m actually not much of a flower girl, in general, so I respect that. I don’t care much for them in the house or on the body. One time Maria tried to pull off a choker with a navy velvet flower. Let’s just say she looked ridiculous and I helped her get it off fast.”

He cocked a brow. “Wait, so you don’t like it when your date brings you flowers?”

I swayed my head back and forth and gave him a lopsided smile. “It’s just, couldn’t he come up with anything original?”

He burst out laughing and then caught himself as more attendees started settling down and the seats beside us filled. In a lower voice, he replied, “What do you want him to bring you? I’m guessing a box of chocolates is going to be too ordinary.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I’m not sure, but maybe something that won’t die or be consumed.”

“There goes my edible panties idea.”

I placed a hand over my mouth to silence my laugh. See, I appreciated that he knew me so well. He knew I wouldn’t get insulted or weirded out by openly talking about these things. I grinned. “Those would be more for him, don’t you think?”

He placed a finger in the air and continued playing around. “Back to the drawing board.” He chuckled and asked more serious this time, “So you’d want something memorable?”

“If we’d been dating a while and he knew me, then yes. Something memorable and personal.” Then I quickly added, “But not a photo keychain.” I groaned. “Anything but a photo keychain.”

He tilted his head. “What? I didn’t know this was the early two-thousands.”

I waved a hand in the air, remembering Perla’s ex-boyfriend, Chris, and the idiotic gift he’d given her for her twenty-first birthday. Yeah, the guy definitely had not been a winner. “It’s a long story, but basically Perla’s most recent ex got one for her and they’d been dating for way too long for him to even think that would be a good gift.”

“Yikes,” he responded. “Now I know why he’s an ex.”

I rolled my eyes. “That was only the icing on the cake. He was, well. . . let’s just say I’m glad she found Frankie and they got married.”

“Ah, so she’s married?” he asked. “I guess a lot has happened since—” He was cut off by the music that turned more dramatic and grew louder.

Once the lights dimmed, I knew it was showtime and looked forward. “The show is about to start,” I said, although I had no idea why I was narrating for him. Regardless, I was thankful for the interruption because it seemed the past kept rearing its ugly head and I wanted to move on.

Did you hear that? I wanted to move on.

I had been given somewhat of a second chance here, right? So, I would see it for what it was and forget everything else. It had been two years, sure, but Knox was still Knox and we still had this easiness about us that just made sense.

I held up my phone as the first model walked out.

* * *

The entire presentation was striking—breathtaking, really. To be frank, I was shocked the designs came from a new designer. The sheer level of skill and consideration for detail that we’d seen was normally reserved for seasoned designers.

I leaned over and whispered to Knox, “That was incredible. Whoever this Rina woman is made a big splash.”

Knox nodded, shifting in his seat. “Sure did. This is going to be in every publication known to man.”

As we watched the last model exit the stage, the audience collectively waited with bated breath to clap for the designer’s walkout moment.

* * *

Rina

I didn’t need anyone to tell me what I already knew—it had gone marvelously.

Forget about Stefan or anyone else. My presentation was going to be the one to remember from this LFW.

The last model walked toward me and smiled. “That was amazing, Rina.”

I placed a hand up before she could get another word in. “Shh,” I tried silencing her further. “I don’t want to miss the cue for my walkout.”

She must’ve left because when I turned around no one was there but one of my stylists. “It’s time,” he said.

I nodded and put one foot in front of the other as I walked out to the crowd—all here for me , to see my collection.

I arched my back to make my entrance. When they saw me, they’d be seeing the face of the up-and-coming designer, Rina Levana.

* * *

Knox

The music turned off and it grew quiet before—

“Oh, no,” Bianca whispered.

I followed her gaze.

She was looking at the floor.

“My phone,” she explained and pointed under my chair to where it had fallen.

“I’ve got it,” I told her and extended my arm down, my hand under my chair to retrieve it. My attention was on her phone when a loud round of applause exploded through the venue.

With the phone in my hand, I quickly sat up and moved to pass it back to Bianca. She was the only one hardly clapping, though, her hands as frozen as her expression. She looked shocked, her mouth forming a complete O as her gaze was transfixed on the stage. What was—

I didn’t need to finish that question because as soon as I turned and looked at the stage, I understood.

It was like I was seeing a ghost.

Suddenly, it was two years ago.

If you need to reach me, call my parents. They’ll be able to get in touch with me in Spain. Those had been the last words Rina spoke to me. It was my last memory of her before I’d turned and left her standing in our apartment with her bags packed, ready to leave us and the life we had been starting to make in New York. Together.

My stomach churned. Everything started to move in slow motion.

The breakup had been as emotionless and dead as our love life had been since we’d moved to New York. It had been on life support and I’d tried saving it, but Rina had pulled the plug, not caring who she hurt in the process.

I closed my eyes, certain they were deceiving me. But once I reopened them, I knew without a doubt that this was actually happening.

I mean, I knew there was a possibility, but standing before me, blowing kisses to the audience was none other than a redhead masquerading as the girl from Minnesota I had grown up with and once loved, Rina Blum—sorry, Levana.