Page 14 of Hired By My Rich Baby Daddy 2

It started with me cutting up a few T-shirts for a concert. I'd take some regular shit somebody could buy anywhere, cut it, sew it, and make it my own. I posted a few pieces online, then people started asking if they could send me their own clothes, and after that, shit took off.

Next thing I knew, I was personal shopping, helping people figure out their style, building looks from head to toe, and styling clients for events and photo shoots.

I had even styled my first celebrity a few months ago. Granted, I only had one celebrity client so far, but shit, one was better than none, okurrr!

Everybody had to start somewhere, and I was beyond grateful to say those denial emails couldn't hold a real bitch down.

My phone vibrated in my hand just as the valet handed me my ticket.

Carl : You ain’t have to leave me that fast.

ME: Boy please you just had me all to yourself.

Carl : And I wanted a little more time before I leave in the morning.

ME: Awww, you gon’ miss me?

Carl : You know I am.

ME: Well, I can come back over tonight.

Carl : Pizza?

ME: Now you speaking my language

Carl : So that’s a yes?

ME: Obviously, babe.

I couldn't stop the smile that came across my face. Carl was my baby, and I just loved that man down!

He worked in tech, made damn good money, and looked absolutely nothing like what I used to picture when somebody said they worked in tech. Six foot one, brown skin, shoulder-length locs he kept twisted neat, glasses he was always pushing up on his nose, and a build on him that made no sense. He was muscular as hell because he practically lived in the gym, and fine enough that I had stared at him a little longer than I should have the first time we met.

I'd been hired to style him for some big tech event his company was hosting. He had to speak in front of a room full of people, and apparently, somebody had finally told him that the same three suits he kept rotating weren't cutting it anymore.

He spent our entire first appointment trying to flirt with me, and it was bad. I'm cringing just thinking about it.

At one point, I'd been adjusting his jacket, and he looked down at me and said, "So... do you come with the suit?"

I stared at him for a good five seconds.

"Did you really just say that?" I asked, 'cause baby, I had to be sure!

He pushed his glasses up his nose. "I-I'm sorry. It sounded better in my head before I said it."

I laughed so hard I had to walk away from him, but honestly, that's what reeled me in. He kept me laughing that day, so much so that his corny ass had gotten my number by the end of the session.

A year and a half later, we were still together, living separately, but together. I was still in my one-bedroom, saving my own coins because I didn't play them shacking-up games. My mama didn't raise me to move my whole life into a man's house on a promise. He'd asked twice. I said the same thing both times. Put a ring on my finger. That's it... that's all.

I walked through the revolving doors in my heels, smoothing one hand down the front of my blazer.

I looked good. I was dressed professionally but still making sure I looked like someone you'd want to hire again.

"Good afternoon. Welcome to the Laurent Royale."

"Hi. I'm Nourah Marcell. I'm here for––.”

"Yes, Ms. Marcell.” The woman behind the desk immediately smiled. “They've been expecting you."