Page 145 of The Wild Charge

The model closed her eyes, a single tear tracking down her cheek.

The designer pulled the pins from her mouth, expression pained. “Miss Howard, we’ve been at this since yesterday, maybe–”

“Are you giving meexcuses, Emily?”

“No, ma’am.” She took the model by the arm and helped her down off the platform. “Come on, sweetie,” she said, softly, and the two of them hustled out of the office in a rustle of skirts, not so much as glancing at Raven and Ian.

Nikola stood a moment, head bowed, still gripping the back of her neck, muttering to herself. Raven caught the phrasefucking stupidmore than once. Then Nikola heaved a deep sigh, dropped her hands, and turned to face them, small, insincere smile on her lips.

“Raven! It’s been too long.” She glided forward and took Raven’s hands so they could exchange air kisses on each cheek. “You look wonderful.” She pulled back at arm’s length, smile showing a calculated flash of teeth, nothing about her expression sincere.

Raven put on her own false, agency smile. “So do you. That dress!” She tilted her head toward the door. “One of your own?”

Anger flashed in Nikola’s gaze a moment before she made a face and dropped Raven’s hands, waving dismissively. “No. One of my apprentices’. She has a lot to learn, as you can tell.”

It had never been said aloud – because some things could be said with undercutting barbs and vicious grins – but Raven couldtastethe other woman’s jealousy on the air. Raven had expanded her own agency with a line of couture frocks years ahead of Nikola, and been successful enough to sell them overseas. Nikola was obviously still struggling to get that sector of her business off the ground.

Nikola’s gaze shifted to Ian, and became alarmingly warmer in a cunning, predatory sort of way. “Oh. And who have you brought with you?” She offered a hand, grinning with all her white teeth showing.

Ian took her hand in his much larger one and bent in a bow too gallant for his getup, ghosting a kiss to the backs of her fingers. “Jean-Jacque de Jardin at your service, madame,” he said in a bored, though perfectly accented voice. He drew back to his full height and released her hand, face expressionless behind his shades the whole time.

“Madame.” Nikola flicked her fingers at him, chin tilting coquettishly. “Please. It’s mademoiselle.” To Raven: “Where’d you pick him up, you lucky,luckygirl?”

Raven hugged his arm and laid her head on his shoulder, knowing her grin had gone shit-eating. “We connected at Paris Fashion week. You shouldseehis menswear line. Utterly delicious.”

Nikola gave him a lingering, up-and-down scrutiny. “I don’t doubt it.” She sighed, then turned and minced her way around her desk, motioning to the chairs opposite. “Sit. I’ll ring for some green teas.

“Now,” she said, once they were settled, and she’d snapped an order into the intercom on her desk, “what’s this about, Raven?” Her brows lifted. “You’ve finally come around on that merger?”

Raven had never liked Nikola – she didn’t like most people in her industry, truly. It was a cutthroat business full of eating disorders, back-stabbing, and excoriating insults. It took a lot of grit to survive, and that she had in spades. But it was one thing to dislike the woman for her manners and reputation as a vicious manager…quite another to know that she was also involved with Waverly and Abacus and all the debauchery and immorality that entailed. She felt something like hatred curdling in her belly, and fought to keep her expression neutral.

“Something like that,” she said, hedging. “Your associate in London was very persuasive.”

Nikola smiled, lips closed, smug.

“A bittoopersuasive, if you catch my drift.” Raven sniffed. “We’re not quite so blunt as you Americans.”

The smile slipped. “Marie can be a tactless idiot, I’ll grant you. Apologies.”

“She continually stressed your interest in Kyra Blacklock.”

“Did she?” Nikola’s jaw tightened, though she attempted another smile. “Kyra’s a hot item, obviously, but she wasn’t the reason I suggested us joining forces.”

“She wasn’t?” Raven asked, all innocence.

“No. It’s like you just said yourself: we Americans are too blunt. Expanding into the UK would go much more smoothly if it was with you as the European brand ambassador. Likewise, we could help you expand further here in the States. It would be mutually beneficial, and the models could hop between locales for work, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Raven echoed. She crossed her legs. “Let’s say, for sake of argument, that I was interested.”

Nikola’s mouth puckered unflatteringly in pleased surprise. “Let’s say you were.”

“I have some concerns.”

“Of course.”

“Jean-Jacque and I” – she laid a hand over the back of Ian’s where it rested on the arm of the chair; someone had let him borrow some rather gnarly and out of character rings: a jolly roger and a wolf and a rose – “have talked about joining forces: his male models and designs walking in my shows, my girls and my designs appearing in his photoshoots when they want men and women pictured together. A true partnership.”

“How lovely.”

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