Wait, had I disliked this lovely, amazing, incredibly tasteful woman before? She was not only my new favorite person; I wanted to adopt her as a sister. “Oh wow! I can’t believe it! Thank you so much—”
Asher held up a hand. “Not good enough. We want a full article too, in the magazine itself. On top of the blog placement.”
I kicked him under the table. What the hell was he thinking? This was a miracle; we couldn’t risk asking for more!
“Where’s the narrative?” Evangeline asked. “You’ve got a good beginning, Asher, and Ms. Jameson, but that’s all you’ve got. I can’t fill a whole article with product placement; I need a compelling storyline.”
“And you’ll have it,” Asher promised, “and before anyone else too. Come to the opening, Evie, and you’ll see.” He brought his hand to her lips. “You’re not going to let some fusty old editor keep you from the fashion scoop of the year, are you?”
Evangeline chewed her lip. “The opening’s in six days?”
Asher nodded.
“Okay, that’s enough time for me to get it in under deadline. I’ll bring my tape recorder and a cameraman, we’ll do a proper in-depth interview and full photo spread.” She was getting excited now; visions of fashion journalism awards no doubt dancing her head. She wagged her finger warningly at Asher and me. “But you two better not disappoint me! I’ll be going out on a limb with my editor for this.”
“Have I ever disappointed you?” Asher asked smoothly.
Evie shook her head, grinning. “Only when you refused my marriage proposal, handsome. Gotta jet, text me later?”
Asher held up his phone. “Got you on speed-dial.”
They cheek-kissed and she left, and I tried to keep sitting upright under the assault of more emotions than I had known a human could simultaneously experience.
Jealousy, gratitude, excitement, panic, hurt, lust—I couldn’t believe Asher would flirt with someone like that in front of my face, and yet I wanted to leap in the air with joy that I was getting written up in Blossom, and I wanted to explode with anxiety at the ever-shrinking deadline, and I wanted to fuck that smug smirk off Asher Young’s face right on this fancy tablecloth—
Asher remained oblivious to my mental turmoil, calmly sipping at his glass of mineral water as if scoring a high-flying fashion journalist’s attendance at an unknown store’s opening was a feat so insignificant it didn’t merit another second’s thought.
“So, is that how you get so much good press for all your businesses?” I asked him with a raised eyebrow. “Is that the secret of your business empire? Flirting?”
He shot me that troublemaking grin that made my panties want to spontaneously combust. “Hey, whatever gets the job done.” He slid a menu towards me. “Want something to eat? My dime.”
“No thanks.” My emotions were settling down, the herd thinning out to just two: jealousy and panic. “I’m not hungry anymore.”
I’d thought the stakes were high before, but now? One wrong move, one too-snarky remark, one satin bow out of place, and that Blossom article could send my entire dream crashing down in flames.
SEVEN
You know how a volcano is, the week before it erupts? Earthquakes, landslides, rumblings, all as the magma underneath shakes and shivers and presses upward, just itching to explode?
Well, that’s exactly how I was with less than a week till the opening. ‘Sleep’ and ‘eat’ were words in a foreign language, and every time I thought I had a problem solved, another two popped up like my life thought I wanted to play Whack the Weasel.
Thankfully, Asher showed up just in time for me to yell at him.
“No, I cannot give you a quote right now, because my brain has become completely fried from trying to sort fabrics that my past self for some reason sorted by color when they should have been sorted by price, and now I’m going to lose another three hours trying to fix this and nothing is going to get done and it’s all going to be ruined—”
Asher backed away, his hands raised in surrender and eyes wide as if I were an entire brigade of soldiers. “Is this…is this PMS?”
He very narrowly dodged the bolt of Thai silk I threw at him. “It’s stress, you condescending asshole! Believe it or not, I can actually be upset about things when blood isn’t leaking out of my vagina!”
“I believe you, I believe you,” Asher said hurriedly. “When was the last time you had a chance to relax?”
“When do you fucking think?” I threw my purse at him, missing again. My wallet burst open, scattering small bills and loose change and Starbucks gift cards everywhere. I stared at the mess, and very nearly started to cry.