Page 92 of Sinful Secrets

Maybe being with Spencer has changed me in some ways.

She clears her throat and continues to talk about current trends and the fall fashion shows that are happening now that New York Fashion Week is over.

“The Los Angeles Fashion Week is coming up in a couple of days. Expect to see casual wear instead of the ballgowns and outlandish designs that are common in New York. That is why I am assigning you three sketches for everyday wear thatare comparable to what we will see in the Los Angeles fashion shows.”

She sits at her desk and turns on the projector to share her screen. The Los Angeles Fashion Week web page shows similar designs that will make their debut.

Several designs are casual but dressy and range from summer dresses to party attire.

“Remember to make these three sketches fit into your future brand, but also be wearable. They are due in one week, but for now, we are going to have an open discussion about the designs that debuted in New York.”

Three sketches in a week shouldn’t be too hard, except I don’t really know what my future brand is going to be.

The screen changes to a slideshow of the designs from New York Fashion Week.

I zone out as I try to picture my future studio full of designs. Will it be full of cocktail dresses or normal, everyday clothing? Will I want to design high end haute couture or affordable casual wear?

A knock on the classroom door interrupts my thinking. A couple of police officers enter the room and look around before a man in jeans and a t-shirt pushes past them.

It’s Jacob Carter. This can’t be good.

His gaze meets mine for a second before he stalks toward me. He towers over me and gestures for me to stand up.

“You’re being detained.”

Wait, what? Why? What did I do? What do they think I’ve done? I haven’t done anything to justify this scene in the middle of class. It’s totally humiliating.

“For what?” I ask as I slowly get to my feet.

Jacob Carter doesn’t answer my question, so I ask him again. “What are you arresting me for?”

He reaches behind his back and pulls out a pair of handcuffs. The cool metal wraps around my wrists before they clamp down like a light vice grip.

Annoyed, I sigh and ask, “Can you tell me what I’m being charged for?”

He ignores me as if he doesn’t have a reason.

I know his reason. It’s because I said no to him. He now thinks I’m a part of the Arturo crimes.

Technically, I am, but all the evidence was burned in the club fire.

A male student nearby shouts out, “What’s your name and badge number?”

I think his name is Steven. His designs are over the top and flashy, like the designs in New York, and until today, he hasn’t spoken more than a few words and never louder than a whisper.

He knows his way around a mannequin, though. His designs are fitted to perfection.

Mr. Carter doesn’t answer him. He wraps his hand around my upper arms and leads me toward the other officers.

Glancing around the classroom at my classmates, my gaze stops when I see someone recording my arrest.

My face flames with embarrassment. First the paparazzi and now I have to worry about my classmates.

Mrs. Kerry pinches the bridge of her nose and lets out a dramatic sigh. “All of this negative press won’t be good for a future in fashion, Miss Whitlock. I’d take a long hard look at your life and reevaluate your priorities.”

Anger fills my veins at her insinuation.

I have done everything I could just to stay in school and graduate on time. I go above and beyond on any and all homework assignments she gives me. And I’ve always tried to keep my personal life private.

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