Page 27 of Legally Yours

She nods and reads off her clipboard, “It’s David.” She grimaces.

I feel myself shift as my blood simmers and boils. I take a shaky deep breath to gain my composure and look at Joana. “Thank you for this information, Joana. Can you please review the contracts we have left?”

She stands up at attention. “Yes, sir. Right away.” She scurries out of the office and softly shuts the door behind her.

I stare at the wall in a blind rage. I need to gain some composure before taking any action. I stare at the computer screen and sort through the applications of the models we have on file.

Some of them didn’t renew their contracts. Some just took their contracts and left right away with the new offer. This is beyond irresponsible and unprofessional. Just leaving a company with no real reason and no communication with the boss would undoubtedly look bad on their resumes.

But I know David doesn’t care. He just wants to screw with me and everything I have built.

In a rage, I shut down my computer and peel off my suit jacket. The heat that is radiating off my body would warm me at the top of Everest. I toss the jacket on the chairs that sit before my desk.

I sit on top of the glass desk and let my feet dangle off the edge. I stare blankly at the floor.

What are we going to do? There are a ton of campaigns I need these models for. They’re under contract, but apparently it’s just a piece of paper to them.

My eyes flick over to the calendar and spot where we have a fashion show in a week. How are we going to have a fashion show without the models? How are we going to claim we have the best, most talented models with no one to show for it?

Thankfully, our best and most talented model is still with us. My eyes dart to my phone, smiling at Cassandra’s name in my notifications.

She is the only thing keeping me from diving off the deep end right about now. I know she will be nothing but supportive in this time.

There is another knock. I turn my attention to the tall wooden door and call out to the person to come inside. Joana slips inside, putting on her best performative smile, but I see the panic in her eyes as well.

“Morning, Mr. Anderson,” She pauses, and her eyes dart to the floor. I can practically see her nerves bursting from her body. “Again.”

“Joana,” I say carefully.

“So, I regret to inform you that I do not have the best news to share with you.” She fidgets with the clipboard she is clutching to her chest.

“Proceed anyway.” I stand from the desk and move over to the front of my computer. I motion to the chairs in front of my desk.

She just looks at the empty seat, back up at me, and takes a deep breath. “You asked me to review the contracts we still have left.”

“Correct.” I try not to sound annoyed, but the anticipation is eating me alive from the inside.

“We lost a few minor models. The ones who are in some campaigns but do not yet have their image developed well or their own trademarks.”

I sigh. “Okay.” This is devastating, but I am eager to hear about the larger chunk we lost.

“Sir, we lost twenty of our big names.” She twiddles a pen in her hands and gives me a sympathetic look.

I nod in response. “Thank you, Joana.” I tilt my head over to the door, and she gets the cue. She dips her head and briskly walks out.

My headache somehow grows even worse, and I feel the strain behind my eyes. I curl my fists. I feel the veins popping out in my neck.

What am I going to do? There are deadlines to be met, brands to work with, partnerships that are depending on us. How do I rebuild our image? There is one thing I am certain about.

David Brown will deeply regret crossing me.

24

CASSANDRA

“Hey, Leslie, are you up for helping me make and distribute flyers to announce Anderson Modeling Agency is scouting for new models?”

“You bet. We can fight fire with fire. Let’s get to it!”

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