Christina’s POV
She sat in the booth like liquid poured into human form, legs crossed elegantly, her face so perfect I wanted to throw my entire skincare routine in the trash.
I knew that face. Everyone did.
This was Octavia Grey. Award-winning actress, face of luxury perfus, the woman who could make an entire theater weep with a single close-up tear.
I’d watched her latest movie three tis and still hadn’t forgiven her for dying so beautifully in the rain.
In person, she looked even more flawless. Like soone had upgraded reality without warning the rest of us mortals.
"Is this a joke?" Akira whispered in my mind.
"If it is, I’m not laughing," I replied silently.
I followed Hudson into the private dining room, my legs operating on autopilot, and slid into the seat across from her.
She smiled.
I smiled back.
Polite. Awkward. Completely surreal.
I had absolutely no idea what was happening.
Last ti I was at Laurent Global Holdings,Dominic had casually ntioned Octavia was pursuing Hudson. Romantically. With dates and everything.
I never bothered to ask which pack Octavia belonged to.
So my options were:
A) Hudson had lost his mind and decided to introduce to his almost-girlfriend.
B) He was dumping . In public. With Octavia Grey as a witness.
C) This was so weird arrangent where I t the fated mate in his life while playing contract wife for show.
My shoulders tensed as every bad soap opera plot I’d ever watched flashed through my mind like a horror montage.
Then Hudson rested his hand briefly on mine."This is my wife, Christina Vance. And this is Octavia Grey."
Octavia held out her hand. "Lovely to et you."
I took it, still half waiting for soone to shout "cut."
"Hi. I’ve seen your work. You’re even more gorgeous offscreen."
"Thank you."
Her smile was easy. Friendly.
Not a single trace of competition or possession in her eyes.
The smile took the edge off.
Not completely, but enough that I didn’t feel like I needed to throw my drink in soone’s face.
Yet.
She looked exactly like she did in the films—only now I could see the tiny mole near her left ear and the way her lashes curled at the tips without mascara.
But what threw was her vibe.
The press always portrayed her as an ice queen who would return bottled water for being insufficiently wet.
The woman sitting across from was warm, open, and completely lacking the catty vibe I’d braced myself for.
And judging by the comfortable but chemistry-free interaction between her and Hudson,I’d definitely overthought this whole introducing--to-his-mistress scenario.
When our food arrived, Hudson cleared his throat. "Chrissy, Octavia has a favor to ask you."
"?" I pointed at myself. "You sure you’ve got the right Chrissy?"
Hudson gave Octavia a aningful look.
She leaned forward, smiling like we were old friends at brunch. "Hudson ntioned you’re a jewelry designer?"
"Yes."
"I’m flying to the Venice International Film Festival next week and haven’t finalized my jewelry choices. The major brands sent their usual pieces, but I want sothing different. Sothing custom." She paused. "So... Miss Vance, would you be interested?"
Hudson coughed softly.
Octavia glanced at him, then laughed and corrected herself. "Sorry—Luna Christina, would you be interested?"
She shot Hudson a look as if checking if she’d passed so test. He gave a small nod.
I stared at her, completely stunned. ? Designing for Octavia Grey?
She could have Tiffany or Cartier begging to dress her. Yet here she was, asking to create her red carpet jewelry.
And not for just any event,for Venice. The sa festival where Eliza Black, our current Nyx Collective project, was making her debut. Our office had basically turned into an Eliza shrine for weeks.
But Octavia was another level entirely. A true headliner. Whatever she wore would be photographed, analyzed, copied, and d across the globe.
I tried to respond but nothing ca out.
"The tiline is tight," she continued. "Every designer I normally work with declined. Too risky, too rushed. But if you’re willing to take it on..."
"Yes!" I blurted too loudly.
Octavia’s smile widened. "Wonderful. Fair warning though, you’ll be working so brutal hours."
"That’s fine! I have a half-finished collection that might work perfectly. I can finish the designs, source materials, and start production imdiately."
She nodded, looking impressed. "Perfect. But I need to see the designs first. If they don’t wow , I’d rather go bare-necked on the carpet. I refuse to wear anything diocre."
"Got it. I’ll email you sketches tonight when I get ho."
"Deal."
We discussed details for a few more minutes, and by the ti we exchanged contact information, I felt like I was floating above my chair.
It was like eting a childhood idol who drank sparkling water and might actually wear my jewelry on a red carpet viewed by millions.
At so point, Hudson excused himself to take a call, leaving alone with her.
Octavia sipped her drink, watching over the rim. "You kept looking between and Hudson, then back again. Everything okay?"
I choked on air.
She raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow, clearly enjoying my discomfort.
Fine, I had been staring. Trying to figure out if she was secretly eye-fucking Alpha Hudson under the table.
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