“Right. Like I was saying, I’ve been there for Corey through a lot. Highs, lows, everything in between. And I want you to hear this truth, Bex… I have never seen him happier than since he’s met you.”
My breath catches in my throat. “What?”
“I mean it. I was there in the early days of his career, and right when things were taking off. The guy was on top of the fucking world. But none of that, and I mean none of it, compares to the giddy, love-drunk motherfucker he’s turned into after meeting you.” Aaron smiles at me, and I feel like my world is tilting on its axis.
“Love?”
His eyes wide, Aaron quickly says, “No–shit–I’m sorry. He hasn’t said that, specifically. At least, not to me. But honestly, from the way he’s been acting? I wouldn’t be surprised.”
I’m silent for a moment, clutching Aaron’s pocket square in my hands with a death-grip, and run the idea of Corey being… in love with me, through my head. Given the butterflies fluttering through my entire body at the thought, I think it’s something my rapidly beating heart might be on the same page with.
“Is he really retiring?”
Aaron looks at me thoughtfully and shrugs. “You should ask him. I know him, and I know he cares a lot about what his woman thinks.”
His woman. There’s a roar in my ears at those words, but it doesn’t upset me. No. The idea of being Corey’s… being claimed by him? A rush of arousal courses through me before reality comes crashing in.
I jump up, practically tossing Aaron’s pocket square back in his face. “Sorry, I just—my brain is scattering and suddenly, I feel like I’m out of time. “Shit!”
Aaron stares up at me, amusement on his face. “Yes?”
“The awards show is in two days!” I yelp. “And I never, I didn’t—”
“You didn’t respond to the email introducing us, yes I know.”
I whip my head toward a woman striding into the alcove area. She’s tall, so tall, and she’s not even wearing heels. Thick, inky black hair falls down her back, and she carries herself with a distinct gracefulness, despite being tall and, well, curvy. Like me.
“Nice to meet you, Bex. I’m Jessica.” She holds her hand out to me, and I return her handshake somewhat weakly.
“I’m so sorry that I never—”
“Eh, it’s fine,” Jessica says, shrugging. She gives Aaron a pointed look. “I heard this guy dropped a bomb on you right after he mentioned me, so I don’t blame you.”
“You could say that,” I respond, giving Aaron a small smile.
“Anyway, I’m here because I assume you have some sort of desperate fashion emergency that only I can assist with?” She flashes a brilliant white smile at me, and I’m stunned stupid at how gorgeous she is. She could easily be a model, but I guess that would explain her connectionto fashion.
Aaron stands up, and it’s clear to me these two are siblings, based on their hair color, the shape of their eyes, their height… their gorgeous overall features. What a gene pool lottery to win.
“Yes, Jess. I have a feeling Bex is going to need something stunning for the awards show in a few days.” Aaron gives his sister a nudge, then looks at me. “Right? You’re still going to go with Corey.”
Taking a deep breath, I nod. “Yes. I want to be there for him.”
“Not everyday you get honored with a lifetime achievement award in the art of pornography,” Jessica says, giggling.
That’s right. Not only will I make a public outing with Corey, but at an awards show where he’ll be receiving the highest honor.
I turn toward Jessica. “I need you to work a miracle on me, please.”
She reaches out and wraps a flyaway piece of hair from my messy bun around her finger. “Honey, you already are a miracle. I’m going to make you fucking shine.”
“Shit!” I exclaim. “It’s way past the end of my break. Can we—”
Aaron shakes his head. “Nope. You’re off the clock. Grab your stuff from the staff room and get out of here.”
Jessica stands beside me, looping my arm in hers. “I have a studio space a few blocks from here. Plenty of things we can get started with ASAP, including this gorgeous little number I just designed for Ashley Graham.” She looks me up and down, assessing. “Hmmm, might work, but will definitely need to be shortened for you, shorty.”
“Aaron, I—”
