Page 15 of Blindsided

“That would be lovely.” I sigh.

The rest of the drive to the hotel is blissfully silent. London zips by my window in a haze of grey. I love this city, no matter the time of year. It’s the only place I try to schedule a free day when possible. With back-to-back shoots this week, we couldn’t fit it in this time. But with the weather as shitty as it is, I don’t mind too much.

The transition into the hotel is a blur of bellhops, keycards, and demands from Veronica. I have two hours to hide the exhaustion from my face and be ready for lunch. I only take a deep breath once my door clicks shut. I’m freaking lucky she doesn’t require us to share a room.

Me: Go to bed. You’re going to hate yourself tomorrow.

Matty: Did you make it to London?

Me: Yep. In the hotel now. I have a lunch appointment in a couple of hours, and I’m trying to figure out how not to fall asleep in my salad.

Matty: Too bad I’m not there to make you a coffee.

Me: *groan* Your coffee is the best.

Matty: Enjoy London, Tills.

Me: Enjoy your sleep hangover tomorrow. *wink*

Matty: Little brat.

I flop face-first onto my bed, with a giant grin on my face. Half-asleep, I set an alarm on my phone to wake me up in forty-five minutes. Two seconds later, I’m dead to the world and dreaming about waking up in a certain man’s arms.

* * *

“Did you hear about Crystal?” Sasha widens her eyes at me from across the table. Our salads are mere decorations, the drinks the only thing being consumed at this lunch—at least by Sasha and Bridget. I’m starving, and the wilted lettuce is all Veronica is going to let me consume.

“So. Much. Drama,” Bridget adds.

Sasha begins a long-drawn-out story about how Crystal was fucking this photographer but then got dumped for another model, and she lost her shit at the shoot when she found out.

Of all the people I’ve met in my career, Sasha and Bridget are the closest people to what I would call friends. They’re a couple of years younger than me, and we’ve moved in the same circles for years. We hang out at every show we’re in together, and while they’re not always the nicest women, they’re never outright hateful. In this industry, it’s easy to get walked on if you don’t have a backbone.

Sasha finishes her story with an eye roll. “When are the young ones going to figure out that sleeping with your photographer is a horrible choice?”

“They have to learn somehow.” I shrug.

“And they look at us like we’re dinosaurs.” Bridget scoffs.

“You are, not me.” I wink.

Bridgett flicks my arm. “Asshole.”

We talk more about the show tomorrow, what we’ll be wearing and how many models are going to be there. It’s all fluffy and fun conversations throughout the rest of lunch, and I find myself relaxing into the afternoon. I’m still exhausted. My power nap this afternoon helped a little, but if I have dinner plans tonight, I’m going to fall asleep before we get there.

When we finish lunch, I meet Veronica back at the hotel. I asked her to meet with me about my schedule, but that’s not what I want to talk about. Ever since I called her about my stalker, she’s been putting me off. I have no idea why, which is the reason I will nail her to the floor if I have to.

I knock on her door, which is right next to mine, waiting only a few seconds before it opens. She’s on the phone, as usual, and waves me inside. Her brown pixie-cut hair makes her sharp features stand out, and she’s always wearing a bold red lip stain. In all the years I’ve worked with her, I’ve never once seen her without it.

“That’s not going to work for me. I need more. Make it happen,” Veronica snaps. She ends the call with a huff. “Sorry, Talia. I work with imbeciles, I swear.”

“It’s fine. Mind if I sit?” I point to the small table against the wall of her room. There are papers strewn across the top in some form of organized mess.

“Of course not.” Veronica sits in the other chair and grabs her massive planner. “Okay, Antonio canceled dinner tonight, so you’re free until six tomorrow morning. We’re to leave the hotel at five after. Please be ready before then.”

I have no idea who Antonio is, which means it was likely another preplanned date. Thank god I don’t have to sit through that now. I would’ve faked an illness to get out of it or something.

It’s not that she’s pimping me out when she sets up these outings. There’s never any promise of more after the dinner. It’s usually a way for me to network with influential people outside of the modeling world. Being seen with big names can open doors for me in ways that sticking to modeling cannot.

---