Aria stepped into the loft, her mouth almost falling open in awe. Maybe awe was an understatement. She was breath-taken—astounded.
She hadn't expected it to be this big. But hell, what was she thinking? This was a brand collab between Oland, Mera, and Cashiana—the three biggest skincare industries in Europe. The fact that Bordini deemed her worthy... she was going to thank him again and again.
An assistant brushed past her, nearly colliding into her. "Jesus, look where you're going," Aria muttered. The girl's arms were crammed full with brushes, makeup tools, and lipsticks.
The space was pristine—an open rooftop studio where the lighting came in pure from the sun. Every two or three lounge chairs held a famous celebrity model. Assistants buzzed back and forth. A dozen hairstylists were attending to different models. The tech team was adjusting the lighting to best capture the sunlight.
And she? She had just walked into the middle of it all; awestruck and unsure where to place herself. Until she locked eyes with Livia.
"Hey Aria, you showed up. They let you through the door?" There was confusion in her voice.
"Well, yeah." Aria held up her gold embossed invite card. She glanced back at the huge bodyguards stationed at the entrance. This was a very high-profile, top-tier campaign shoot. Not just any model was allowed into the loft premises.
Livia stepped closer, snatching the card from her hand and inspecting it with careful eyes. "This is not a fake."
"I told you. I'm meant to be here."
Livia looked up, shocked and maybe a little impressed. "This card... did you steal it? It's the only invite meant for the celebrity models."
Aria shrugged nonchalantly. "Bordini himself gave it to me."
Livia studied her, surprise and respect etched into her face. Then she nodded and said, "Follow me."
She was made to sit under a dim reflector. One of the most respected makeup artists in the field was called in to touch her face.
To Aria's surprise, the woman gave her a full-on condescending once-over.
"This is not who I was booked for," she said coldly. Like Aria was a thing. Not even a person.
"I was booked for Muriel Montebello, not... whatever this is."
Livia held up the card. "It states here that you're also to work on her—with all the special embellishments to her hair and features. And yes, that includes—"
"Okay, fine," the woman interrupted begrudgingly. "But I will still be the one to make up Muriel, right?"
"Yes, definitely."
As the woman began laying the foundation on her face, Muriel walked in. A grand entrance. Hand-in-hand with Cassian Bordini.
They were both laughing, gesturing like old friends.
Aria watched in irritation as everyone paused briefly to look their way.
"She's always been very good at that," Aria thought bitterly. Carrying all the attention of the men in the room. The flawless aura, or whatever it is she carries around.
"The face of the new skincare," a stylist whispered to a colleague nearby.
"That's if Mera can even afford her," the other replied. "I heard they were asking to choose a new head—someone just as exclusive, but more affordable."
"That's what this model test is for."
"To look for new faces. So she's not officially the face of the campaign yet. The organizers will decide after the photoshoot."
"To which Bordini himself will be among the judges," Livia piped in.
Aria looked up from under the lashes just fixed onto her. She spotted Bordini standing across the room with Mera's head organizer. He was talking, his back turned—But when he noticed her glance, the faintest smile touched his lips.
"What's going on here?" a very annoyed Muriel snapped, stepping into her vision. "Bianche was booked for me, not this minor model."
"It states otherwise on this card." Livia showed her.
Muriel snatched the card and scanned it, her lips curling in displeasure.
"I'm Bordini's head model. So this means nothing. Only the best should be done by the best."
"Finally, someone that understands," Bianche laughed.
"It's actually an insult to ask me to step down for this girl. But I'll forgive you, Livia."
With a flourish of elegance, Muriel waved toward her station.
"Prep it. I'll be with you in ten."
Bianche beamed and sashayed away, her horde of assistants chittering behind her.
Muriel tossed the card back to Livia like it was poison.
"Get me a cocktail from the bar. My throat is parched." She waved dismissively at Livia.
Livia fumed. There were assistants to do that—but she left anyway.
Aria sat up from the chair she'd been relaxing in.
"So who's going to attend to me now?"
"A random," Muriel hissed under her breath and gracefully sat on the chair across from her.
"I don't know who you are, but I don't like you. The secret games you play with Bordini. The blog…"
Hearing Bordini's name made Aria laugh.
Muriel folded her arms. "Oh, you think I don't notice? The little favors he does for you?"
"So you wish you were me, is that it?"
Muriel cackled. "Get over yourself, girl. Please. Me? Want to be like you? Never. Not even in my wildest dreams."
Aria leaned in closer, meeting her gaze—eyeball to eyeball—completely unbothered. "But if you didn't feel threatened by me, you wouldn't be sitting across from me trying to warn me or scare me…" She smiled slyly. "Or whatever it is you think you're doing."
"I don't give two shits about you, Aria," Muriel said in a soft but pointed tone.
"But I see what you're doing. Bordini… and, according to that blog post this morning—Major."
That name made Aria stiffen.
"Sleeping with those two men won't get you anywhere in this industry. It's only pure hard work."
Aria leaned back into the comfort of her chair, shaking her head. An amused smile ghosted her lips.
Muriel scoffed at her unbelievable expression. "I can see that you're trying so hard to be a Muriel wannabe." Her beautifully manicured fingers skated across her face, leaving an ugly streak in her foundation. "Even stealing the makeup blend that was chosen for me."
Just then, Livia returned, fruit cocktail in hand.
Muriel took it with elegant grace, but her heated eyes remained locked on Aria.
"Mark my words."
A bundle of nerves slammed into Aria at that moment. Somehow Muriel could still rattle her, could still make her feel insecure. As Muriel turned away, sipping her cocktail juice, her phone buzzed.
One new message. From Major.
We need to talk. It's about Cassian.
Her fingers tightened around her phone. What the hell did he mean?