The nerve she had. I’d seen them before, those microstarlets acting like entitled brats. I’d watched Carly handle them in the moment and then refuse to dress them again. A luxury I couldn’t afford. But I had shown Julie option after option. She had seen the rack of clothes. And before then, the inspiration mood boards, links to past best-dressed lists, ideas for outfits I was trying to emulate. The bitch had bled me dry.
At least she was distracting me from Dorian. Why accept my request to follow him if he didn’t want me to see anything? My mind spun and spun and spun. I felt dizzy.
I forced myself to breathe as Julie went to take off the dress. When she emerged it was in the outfit she’d come in, baggy jeans and a tube top, a sign that we were done here. Part of me was relieved. The other part knew how badly I needed this.
“I’m here for you, Julie,” I said, my voice coated in honey. “For as long as you need. I want you to feel amazing.”
She grunted. “Didn’t you use to work for Carly Wolf?” She fluffed up her hair. “I should be in Chanel.”
As if Chanel would even lend a safety pin to someone like her.
“Chanel is not the vision I have for you. And yes, Carly taught me somuch. But I decided to go out on my own.”
Julie waved at the clothes she’d left in a pile on the floor. “For this? In this place with the French granny?”
I looked down, just for a second.
“Oh my god!” Julie clasped her mouth over her hand. “Carly Wolf fired you! That’s why you ‘went out on your own.’ What did you do?”
She was excited now, loving the drama.
“Can we not—”
“Seriously, what happened?”
“I’m good at this.”
My voice was broken, in that moment I couldn’t even convince myself. But I’d do whatever it took to keep Julie here.
“I had a thing with…” I started.
Julie raised an intrigued eyebrow. “A thing?”
“With a client.”
She sat on the tiny stool inside the change room, mouth wide open.
“Was he married?”
I shook my head. “No, it wasn’t like that.”
Whatwasit like? I didn’t even know.
“Is he in Cannes? Is that why you’re here?”
I looked down again. Was I so hideously transparent? I had told myself that Cannes would be my redemption, how I would show to the world that I was an independent woman, a self-starter, a business owner. I had my whole career ahead of me. So what if I’d demonstrated extremely poor judgment when a charismatic older man made me feel like I was worth a million bucks? I knew better now. At least I was delusional enough to believe that I did.
I picked myself up. “No, he’s not here. But Carly Wolf wasnothappy about the whole…situation.”
“Was she threatened by you?”
Julie glanced at the clothes next to her with renewed interest. I could tell that I had her. She would be leaving Marielle’s boutique with a fabulous outfit styled by Constance Griffin for Cannes. God damn it.
I pretended to ponder this for a moment.
“You know, I think she might have been. Maybe Carly realized that her twenty-something assistant could have the amazing careerandthe incredible man, and she didnotlike that. You didn’t hear this from me, but she’s been single forever.”
Julie nodded. “Older women can besoinsecure. But like, yeah, of course we’re here to steal the spotlight from them. That’s how it works. Move over, ladies. You’ve had your time.”
