Page 62 of Fateful Exposure

His gaze narrowed. "I know I'm a sight for sore eyes, but what exactly did I do to make you this happy?"

"Zed Chenko emailed," I said breathlessly as if I'd just competed in a marathon, and the prize money was a million dollars. "He wants me to do my unveiling at his runway show next Saturday."

***

My nerves were having a field day; I could barely sit still.

Which was fortuitous because I wasn't sitting at all. My legs carried me from one destination to another, and my heart pounded in my chest as I looked at the models who were supposed to wear my designs. They were the same ones from three weeks ago in the studio, the ones Ashton had found.

Speaking of Ashton, I had no idea where he was. Last I saw him, he was engaged in a casual discussion with Zed and some other guy, the three of them talking and laughing as if they had always been the best of friends.

I needed him by my side. How hard was that to understand? Releasing a tense breath, I watched as Maria and my stylists got to work with the models. Hair, makeup, and everything in between were put into action, and Maria asked me not to stress but to stand by the side, watch, and offer insights where I thought they were necessary.

I had not said it out loud, but I was fucking proud of myself for creating such a masterpiece. I'd gotten a picture of each model, and each design was specially made for her body size and shape. My god, they all looked fucking good. If I wasn't such a mess of nerves, I'd have burst into tears at my genius.

Standing outside the dressing room where the girls got ready, I exhaled, my mind raging. The hairs at the back of my neck stood on end as an unfamiliar presence surrounded me.

"I must say, Miss Volkov, you are an exquisite designer. I'd love to know what goes on in your head when you put pen to paper." A thick accent filled the air, and I raised my head to look at the man next to me, the compliment pleasing me way more than was reasonable.

"Please, call me Selma."

"Then you should call me Zed."

I smiled, wondering if this was real. All of it happened too fast. One minute, I was preparing to create a catalog for my lookbook, and the next, I was invited to a runway show by the biggest designer in the United States to reveal my new collection, practically handed to the media on a platter.

"Thank you again for the wonderful opportunity," I told him. "You don't know what this means to me."

After New York’s Fashion Week, this runway show was the most anticipated fashion show in the country. Designers from all over the world practically begged for a seat at the table. They would pay a literal arm and leg if the opportunity presented itself. In fact, attendance was strictly by invitation, and only the best of the best was deemed fit to be invited.

Zed ran a tight ship, which wasn't unexpected, given his genius. No other designer was as decorated as him on this side of the world.

I had no idea why Zed had personally invited me, and it was at the tip of my tongue to ask, but was I truly going to look a gift horse in the mouth?

Whatever it was, I was grateful for it. Not only did I not have to spend money on the lookbook, but I also got the best publicity. Not even Maria could have pulled this off. At least ninety percent of the fashion world, including the paparazzi, would be present. And those that weren't would be closely monitoring the event, just looking for the right tidbit of gossip to further push their career forward at the detriment of another.

"Ah, I'm afraid I'm not as altruistic as you make me out to be,” Zed confessed. “Everyone's talking about Selma Volkov and her leaked designs, which were amazing, by the way." The way his eyes glistened told me he didn't believe that the leaked designs weren't mine. "I, as well as every other person worth their salt, am eager to see what else you have come up with."

Intertwining my fingers in front of my plaid skirt, I smiled softly, though anxiety danced underneath the calm exterior. "I guess you’ll all have to wait and find out, won't you?"

A corner of Zed's lips tilted upwards. "I guess so. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Selma. I look forward to your unveiling."

I smiled again, the smile falling when he disappeared out of sight. A plethora of what-ifs went through my mind.

What if the new designs were ugly? It was ridiculous to compare two weeks' worth of sweat to a year's hard work andmeticulousness. What if everyone laughed? What if I never got my second chance? What if coming back had been a terrible idea? What if…what if…

"You look beautiful, peaches." I hadn't noticed Ashton sneak up behind me. His raspy voice enveloped me, traveling straight to my lower stomach and pulsating down to the place between my thighs. I clenched them, momentarily forgetting my inner musings of doubt.

"You always look beautiful,” he murmured.

My heart rate picked up speed. He was so close behind me that his hot breath fanned the nape of my neck, and I bit my lower lip to hold back a moan that threatened to spill. No one else was around, but it didn't mean the walls didn't have ears. The last thing I wanted was for the media to take a picture because then there would be no denying it.

Turning around to face him, I took in his handsome face. He was staring at me so intently that my skin prickled with unspoken promises. We hadn’t had sex since that night in the elevator, and I missed the feel of him inside me.

"Are you thinking about me fucking you?" His voice lowered to a whisper, his gaze dropping to my glossed lips. "’Cause I am. I'm going to make love to you so slowly tonight that you won't remember where you end, and I begin."

Fuck.My clit hummed. Tucking a strand of my straightened hair behind my ear to distract myself from the burn in my face, I cleared my throat. "You can't say things like that."

He brushed his knuckles across my cheek. "Why not? You don't like them?"

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