Page 108 of Bastian

Huffing, I ask. “How about I let you eat cupcakes for breakfast, lunch, and dinner?” And the award for greatest mom goes to me…

For a second, Ella contemplates it. Yes, cupcakes! Cupcakes always do the trick. “No.” I guess not this time.

“Baby…”

“Yes?” Ella looks at me with so much hope in her eyes that it has me flustered and lost for words.

Sighing, I give in because I don’t know how to say no to this kid. “Okay, you can get a sister, but… in the very and I mean very distant future,” I tell her. There. I didn’t specify that the sister had to come from me. Let Sebastian deal with that, but then the thought of him having a child with someone else makes me murderous. It has me seeing red. Shit.

Ella…playing me just like her father. How is it that I ended up with rotten people…

Cause you’re rotten to the core… the annoying voice inside of my head taunts.

I don’t argue because, deep down, I know it’s the truth. I found my people. Just the same as me.

Taking a deep breath, I look at Ella on the screen of my phone, smiling so big. How could I not give her the world if she asked for it? “Je t'aime, mam.” My sweet, little devil whispers with a crooked smile.

I should be annoyed that she got me to agree to a kid, but instead, I feel love.

So much love that nothing else matters. Not really.

“Je t’taime, Ellaiza.” I reply. “I need to hang up so I can finish getting dressed. I’ll send you lots of pictures before I leave, alright?”

Ella nods, looking adorably cute dressed in a blue gown with her curls brushed to one side and lip gloss on her lips. Even at six, my baby is a stunner. Poor Sebastian. He has a hard road ahead with Ellaiza and the attention she will attract when she gets older. Good. Karma.

“Okay, mommy. Sending you all the kisses and all the luck tonight!” She blows me a kiss, and I make a show of catching the kiss and touching my cheek with it.

“Forever, Ellaiza.” I smile.

“Forever, mommy.” She smiles back.

After saying goodnight and promising to take her on weekly mommy and daughter dates, we hang up, and I finish getting ready. Once the team finishes their work on me, I stand and put the gown on. Turning to look at myself in the mirror, I admire their work.

My hair falls like golden silk down my back, and my makeup is perfectly done with a bold look, which is a black cat eye that highlights my green eyes, giving me a mysterious look, or so the makeup artist says. I, on the other hand, think I look like an evil fairytale villain, and that’s fine with me.

Looking down at the charm bracelet on my wrist, I smile, feeling like a million bucks dripping in gold and all because of a very tyrant man.

ARIANNA

GOLDEN GODDESS

“We don’t think we’re better than everyone else. We know we are.” — B

The Met Gala, otherwise known as the First Monday in May, is held at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, where the guests will descend upon a red carpet in celebration of the museum’s new exhibition, Timeless Art: An Anthology of Fashion, which will serve as an exploration of fashion through all five periods of history. The display will be presented across 13 of the American period rooms in the museum, and feature design works from Milli Lars, The Jonas Sisters, Alya Kypa, and one anonymous artist called V.M. The artist is crazy talented, and his art is being sold for millions. No wonder he was invited to showcase his art in one of the most famous galas in the world.

This night is not only to raise funds for the museum but also to display fashion of the early 19th century through a modern lens. If you, by some luck, get an invite to the Met, you have to make sure to bring your fashion A-game. After all, the gala has a long history of creating memorable outfits that are seen around the globe.

This is surreal.

Little me would have never thought she would get this far. Not in this lifetime at least.

But here I am.

On one of fashion’s biggest nights.

You go, bitch. Show them how it’s done. The little devil on my shoulder whispers, oddly giving me a confidence boost, which I needed when the anxiety started to creep in.

Taking a deep breath, I stand tall at the top of the stairs, ready to walk down when suddenly all fashion chaos begins. First, I see the flashes, and hear the noisy crowd of paparazzi on the right, trying to capture the perfect picture. They are relentless. Perhaps there is someone famous behind me, but when I turn, there is no one there. It is just… me. They’re talking and taking pictures of me as if I were one of the A-listers.

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