Page 63 of VOGUEish

For the past four hours, his brain had been arguing with his heart. His brain said if he truly cared for Isabella, he’d done the right thing by pointing her in the direction of a good man. His heart kept whispering dumbass.

“What in the fuck was I thinking setting her up with Ryder?” he muttered to himself. This was all Nonna’s fault. She was the one who’d pushed the issue. The one who had wanted to get Isabella married off to a billionaire to satisfy their Fairy Godmother contract. If it weren’t for Nonna, he and Isabella would be enjoying a hot booty-call fling right now.

When his phone dinged, he practically broke his neck tripping over the coffee table to grab it. He tapped to open the text and came face-to-face with a photo of Ryder and Isabella looking in sync.

Bile rose in his throat.

A text followed.

Dude. Thanks for the introduction. You’re a dumb shit for not grabbing Izzie up for yourself. Then again, you’ve always been a dumb shit.—Ryder

Relieved their date had ended, he sent a text to Isabella. He wanted to be the last person in her thoughts tonight.

I have a new copy of your contract. If you want to stop by the office after your date with Ryder, we can meet, and you can look it over. Or, I’ll have it messengered over to you tomorrow at work. I start as a fixer at a new location tomorrow.—Chandler

She responded immediately.

LOL. Ryder and I just left the restaurant. We had a great time. Thanks for putting in a good word for me. If you don’t mind meeting at the office, I can stop by and sign it. I have some shoes I need to return to the closet.—Isabella

I’ll be there in twenty minutes.—Chandler

It was eerie how quiet Naked Runway was at nine o’clock at night. The only person Isabella came across on the seventeenth floor was the janitor. She stopped by the closet on her way to Chandler’s office to drop off the shoes Ziggy had helped her pick out to go with the outfit she’d bought on her lunch break. It was amazeballs to think she was about to begin a job that had a clothing allowance so generous she could buy name brand shoes in season. Not wait and buy then a year out at a consignment shop. She pinched herself to see if she was sleeping. “Ouch.”

After the closet, she hurried to her office to see if Ziggy had dropped off the information she’d requested concerning his personal stylist and was delighted to see he had. While she was quite comfortable with her own sense of fashion, part of her contract required she meet with a stylist once a year for advice on hair, makeup, and clothing.

About to lock up and head to Chandler’s old office, she heard voices in the workroom and headed that direction. Two people stood in the room chatting, completely unaware of her. It was Annie and Tyce.

“You need to tell someone,” Tyce said.

Annie sniffed loudly.

Isabella ducked into the shadows. The woman was crying. Why was she crying?

“I can’t,” Annie whined. “They’ll fire me.”

“They can’t fire you, because you could sue them if they did.” Tyce sounded quite sure of that.

“I don’t want to sue anyone,” Annie said. “I just want it to be over. Please promise you won’t tell anyone.”

“Of course, I won’t. I’m not a snitch.” Tyce sounded offended. “But you should. At least promise me you will think about it.”

“Okay.”

Isabella backed away, careful not to be seen or heard. Tyce and Annie obviously had a close workplace friendship. The kind Isabella wanted to form. And she could have friends at Naked Runway if she kept her distance from Chandler. She was so preoccupied with her thoughts she didn’t notice the trashcan until she ran into it and flew forward.

The sound of a male chuckle was the first thing she heard after falling.

“I see you’re walking and thinking again.” Chandler held out a hand to help her up. “Are you okay?”

She straightened her clothes and nodded. “Do you have the contract?”

He stepped into her space, tucked her hair behind her ears, and then quickly moved away.

What was that all about?

“You should be more careful. There are people in your life who would be sad if you were to get hurt.”

She tilted her head and looked for signs of drunkenness. “Are you one of those people?”

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