Page 48 of Immoral

She shakes her head, stating, "No. I'll have the Mediterranean skillet, eggs over easy, please."

"Great choice. That comes with our signature toast. It's freshly baked and has no honey. I heard you had an allergy, dear?"

"Yes. I'll swell up like a blowfish," Cara informs her.

"Well, we don't want that. I'll make sure the chef is aware. And what will you have, sir?" Kelsey questions, refocusing on me.

"Denver omelet, with a side of bacon, please."

"Another great choice. Can I get you orange juice?"

Cara and I both decline, and Kelsey leaves.

I take a sip of my drink, counting while the hot liquid travels to my stomach, studying the way my tesoro drinks her coffee. I've done it before, but something about it always mesmerizes me. Maybe it's the mark of my mouth on her neck that's part of my fascination. Watching her swallow and the bruise flex sends a rush of lust straight to my cock.

"Why are you staring at me?" she asks, arching her eyebrows.

I ignore her question. "Tell me, what's going on with your clientele?"

She smirks. "You don't already know since you stalked me?"

My lips curl. "Humor me. Plus, I only know outside details."

She's always had a thriving career. In her twenties, she learned everything about the modeling business and created an agency. Europe proved to be a good move for her. She's now known worldwide. From what my intel gathered, the major models in New York, L.A., Milan, and Paris are all signing with her. As she speaks, her eyes light up, but she stays humble, which isn't a new thing. She admits, "Last week, I found out they chose my agency for Fashion Week."

Adrenaline rushes through my veins. I put my hand over hers. Fashion Week has been on her bucket list since she started her agency. It's a huge accomplishment. "Tesoro! That's amazing! Congratulations!"

"Thanks. I actually called your sister."

"Arianna? Why?"

"I have models flying in from all over Europe. I want to make sure they're taken care of and aren't leaving New York exhausted. My assistant said Arianna started an event company in Chicago but still has contacts in New York. I thought she could help me figure out more of a rest-and-relax type of scenario for my models."

More pride sweeps through me. It's going to cost her a pretty penny to do that, but making sure her models are taken care of has always been Cara's first priority. Still, I whistle. "How much is that going to set you back?"

She shrugs. "Doesn't matter. They perform better when they're rested and not stressed out. The photographs and video footage alone will get them more bookings. And a few of them are skyrocketing quickly, but they're newbies. They haven't done New York Fashion Week yet. It'll help alleviate their nerves. Plus, hopefully, they can all make some connections and reduce some of the cutthroat attitudes."

I grunt. My experience dating models leads me to believe that's a hard goal to accomplish. I haven't come across one who isn't insecure. Cutthroat is part of their language. It's a common reaction to trample anyone they think might get in their way.

It's actually the reason I always dumped them. Their lack of confidence in their skills always drove me nuts. Every time I got rid of one of them, I told myself no more models. Then I'd get tired of thinking about Cara and how I needed to find someone to get past her. I'd see another woman who caught my eye and start the process all over again. I add, "Good luck with that."

Confidence appears on Cara's face. She straightens her shoulders, takes another sip, then smiles. "It does happen, you know. Not every model is incapable of developing friendships with other models."

"But are they real relationships or only surface-level until they feel threatened?" I ask.

She shrugs. "Depends on the model. Anyway, Arianna said she'd love to work with me on it."

More pride fills me. My sister has always loved fashion. I bet she was jumping with joy when Cara called her. I reply, "I'm sure she's counting down the days."

Cara nods, her eyes growing brighter. "She practically squealed in excitement."

"You know how she loves your world."

"I was always surprised she didn't model, especially with your mother's genes."

My mamma had a thriving career before she met Papà. Once they got engaged, she retired from the industry. I shift in my seat and sniff hard, declaring, "There was no way either of my parents wanted her exposed to that life. Who knows what she would have gotten involved in?"

Cara tilts her head, smirking. "Like you and your brothers would have let anything happen to her."

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