Page 146 of Catch Me
“Honey, you’re not the first person to curse at me and you probably won’t be the last. Now, I suggest you leave before I call security to escort you off of the property.”
My vision blurs from the tears of rage, helplessness, and embarrassment. I force myself to unclench my fists, turn, and leave Rebecca’s office with my head held high.
I refuse to let that bitch see me cry.
CHAPTER 42
Ivy
Stupid bitch! You’re ruining his career!
I hate you!!!
What could he possibly see in you?
“Ivy, baby.” I jump so hard that I nearly drop my phone onto the bathroom counter. “Do you need my help zipping you up?” Andreas asks through the door.
It’s been a month since I lost my full-time job with InTuition Studios.A month of taunts and harassment on my social media pages from random people still angry over the fact that I’m dating Andreas Knight.
Others say that I’m ruining his career since he’s never had any public scandals before he met me. While there are a lot more positive comments on my pages, especially when I showcase different looks I’ve put together, the negative ones always stick with me the most.
They echo too closely with what my parents have told me in the past or what I think they would say if I spoke to them.
While I know I should, I haven’t told Andreas yet about Rebecca firing me. He’s been busy promotingLate Nightsand I’ve been lucky enough to make up work through freelancingthanks to Lillian who vouched for me with a couple of other studios and design teams.
As for Andreas, once the truth came out about Dennis James and the harassment he’s doled out publicly and privately, Andreas was seen as a hero rather than the villain in the scenario.
Which has also increased interest in the film.
For a small, but very loud minority, however, I’m still seen as the woman who will be responsible for Andreas’ downfall.
But tonight, I’m doing my best not to think about that.
Tonight is Andreas’ night. His and the rest of the crew fromLate Nights.
I step back and take a look at myself in the mirror. I’m dressed in a long, flowy, ivory dress, my makeup is perfect thanks to the professional artist that Andreas hired for the premiere of his filmLate Nights.
“Baby?” Andreas calls again through the door.
“Sorry,” I say as I pull the door open. “I couldn’t stop staring at myself in the mirror. I look so damn good.”
Placing my hand on my hip, I give Andreas an ‘I look good don’t I’ face.
“I won’t argue with you there, beautiful,” he replies with a sparkle in his eyes.
That look almost makes me forget about my problems. However, my phone buzzes, surprising me.
“Everything okay?” he asks, staring at me.
“Why wouldn’t it be?” I glance down at my phone and a pang of dread hits the pit of my stomach. I manage to push it down. “It’s just a social media notification. Let me turn it off.”
“Your new page is doing well,” he comments.
I started a new Instagram page to showcase some costumes I’ve designed. The real goal is to use it as a portfolio of sorts now that I’m freelancing, but I haven’t explained that to Andreas.
I’ve blocked and put filters on certain words, so now I’m the only one who sees the ugly comments.
“It is,” I say, glancing at my phone.
