Billionaire Bad Boys of Romance 2(7)
Despite being my assistant, Vivien was never pleased to see me. She narrowed her catty eyes and gave me the once-over. “How did it go today with ZAP!?”
Before I could respond, she huffed, “You know, Gloria, I should have been there. Daddy says advertising is soon going to be under my domain.”
Her words irked me. Everything was under my domain. I was the CEO and founder of Gloria’s Secret. Vivien thought she was entitled because Daddy backed the company. Though she was talented, she wanted to get to the top quickly. It was no secret that she coveted my job. Inhaling deeply, I controlled myself. I couldn’t afford to offend her because of her father. It was sort of a Catch-22 situation that I had to accept.
“No, Vivien, you belonged here. The Gloria’s Secret Fashion Show can make or break our year-end earnings. Plus, there’s so much you can learn from being on the set.”
She scoffed at me. “The only thing I’ve learned is that I’m surrounded by a bunch of incompetent morons.”
God, I wanted to slap her. Or rip off her phony lips. And that was not all.
With a flick of her head, she flung back her mane of hair, one of her annoying habits. “So what was Jaime Zander like? I haven’t seen him for years.”
My brows lifted. Vivien knew Jaime? Why didn’t she tell me? She could have spared me a lot of embarrassment.
“He was very professional,” I answered, masking my displeasure. She had no need to know the details of the meeting. The thought of Jaime Zander made my breathing hitch. “I’m looking forward to his pitch, which I want you and Kevin to attend.”
Her cat green eyes lit up. “And I’m looking forward to seeing him again.”
She sauntered off before I could I ask her what she meant by that.
“In five, four, three, two, one… Showtime!” Hot techno music blasted; my heart hammered. Watching from backstage, I gaped as our gorgeous long-legged supermodel angels, their D-cup bodies clad in the skimpiest lace bras and thongs, descended from the ceiling through a cloud of dry ice onto the runway and began to strut down it, one after another, in their six-inch stilettos. Their outrageous colorful feathered wings, attached to their backs, fluttered like butterflies as they vamped to the beat of the pulsing music. Loud gasps, whistles, and applause emanated from the celebrity-packed audience and press. I let out a deep breath. Yes! They loved it! My beloved Kevin had pulled it off again. It truly was an unforgettable spectacle. Almost surreal, otherworldly. I was totally in the moment but wouldn’t be relaxed until it was over. Every muscle in my body clenched.#p#分页标题#e#
Twenty minutes into the show, Kevin joined me backstage. While I was still an exposed nerve waiting for the worst to happen, he was like a child in a candy store. His long-lashed hazel eyes lit up like lanterns. “It’s faaabulous!” he crooned, squeezing my hand. In my anxious state, his hand was a welcome comfort.
“Have you seen Vivien?” I asked.
“Not for ages.”
I wondered where she was. She was supposed to be with me, updating me on the live webcast. Once things settled down and we were back in Los Angeles, I was going to have a come to Jesus meeting with her, regardless of who her father was. That girl needed to learn what it meant to be a team player.
Without a hitch, the show continued to blow the audience away. Oohs, aahs, whistles, and cheers filled the air. Forty minutes in, Rihanna descended from “the heavens” in a cloud of pink smoke. The crowd went wild. She looked amazing, her dazzling body clad in a diamond-studded black leather bra and thong that we had custom-made for her. The cost to make the ensemble was one million dollars, but it was being auctioned off later tonight for charity at the after-party that Vivien’s father, Victor Holden, was hosting at Touch. My hunch was that some billionaire pervert was going to buy the matching set and put them to his nose every night at bedtime. I chortled silently.
With raw sexuality, Rihanna belted out her new song, “Open Your Mind.” “Mind over body; body over mind. Open your legs wide. Baby, let him know you’re mine.” Closing my eyes, I found myself thrusting my hips, getting lost in the words and beat of the stunning superstar’s sensuous song. Without warning, the image of a stunning man flooded my head. Jaime Zander! We were face-to-face. Heart to heart. Hip to hip!
My heart was vibrating. And then I realized it was actually my cell phone that I’d stuck inside my shirt pocket. I’d put it on mute, having informed all employees to text me during the show only if it was an emergency. I silently cursed. This must be an emergency. My eyes flew open. I immediately checked my messages.