Christina’s POV
I’d just returned to Moss & Fla after lunch when my phone lit up with Savannah’s na.
"Christina, please. You’ve got to co back." She sounded seconds away from either crying or committing murder. "Eliza Black has torn through the sketches ten tis now and still hates them. The film festival is right around the corner. If Nyx Collective doesn’t deliver, we’ll have to pay serious breach penalties."
"You realize Violet won’t let help unless I agree to be her assistant, right?" I reminded her. "And there’s no version of reality where that’s happening."
"I’m the boss," Savannah huffed. "What she wants doesn’t matter. I’ll double your pay. Just co back and sort this out. For , please."
My eyes flickered to my latest bank statent on my phone screen.
I couldn’t even spend all the money Hudson had given .
Let’s just say I wasn’t scraping for Uber fare anymore.
Double pay used to sound like salvation.
Now? Not so much.
"Yeah, I’m gonna pass," I said.
"You’ve been gone for days. Don’t tell you’re actually thinking of quitting?"
"No." Not yet, anyway. "I’ve still got so annual leave to use. And don’t forget, I’m a freelancer. I co and go as I please."
She groaned. "God, you’re such a pain. I should’ve seen this coming. But I had to try. Fine. Go enjoy your precious holiday. But we’re clear, right? Holiday. Not resignation. If you resign, I swear I’ll block it like my life depends on it. Don’t make get on my knees, Chrissy. I’m too old for that."
I laughed. "Fine. Holiday it is."
We could circle back to the quitting bit later.
"Oh, by the way, Vanna, can I take on my own projects while I’m off?"
There was a pause.
"Side projects? What kind? With who?" Her tone sharpened with suspicion.
I kept it vague. "Nothing specific yet. Just sothing I’m considering."
"Right, right, of course," she said."You can, obviously. I an, you’re still Nyx Collective, yeah? So anything you do goes out under our na. That was in the contract, rember?"
"I rember."
"Good, because we’ll promote the hell out of it. Your na front and center—superstar designer, all that. Chrissy, working with you has been a dream. You basically built Nyx. Honestly, I thought Eliza Black would go for your concept. No idea what brain-dead manager she’s got whispering in her ear. But hey, client’s king, right? Just cut so slack, okay?"
"Yeah. I’ll keep the Nyx na on it."
Savannah exhaled loudly. "Okay, but what kind of projects are we talking about?"
I didn’t answer.
"I an, seriously, what could you land out there that tops designing custom pieces for a damn A-lister?"
I stayed quiet, letting her stew in her own imagination.
"If you co back," she rushed on, "and Eliza Black’s wearing Nyx at the Venice Film Festival—that’s massive. That’s the kind of exposure most designers never get."
Still nothing from .
"You and Violet Lin would both get credit," she added quickly. "Co on, Chrissy, this is Venice. The Venice International Film Festival. That kind of spotlight doesn’t just fall into your lap."
I rubbed my temple as she continued.
"You’ve got taste. Talent. Hell, range. But you’re still young, babe. Your na needs more traction. Don’t waste the montum."
If she’d said that a few months ago, I might’ve caved.
Back then, I would’ve sold a kidney for that kind of press.
But now? I had bigger things on my plate.
I leaned back in my chair. "Let it go, Vanna. I’ve got a lot going on right now. But once I’m done, we’ll talk."
She didn’t like it. I could hear her grinding her teeth through the phone, but she didn’t push.
Smart woman.
***
I got ho just before nine.
Wolfed down dinner, then hit the shower.
Scrubbed twice, flossed twice, brushed twice.
Sprayed breath spray for a full minute, then popped a mint for good asure.
I almost flopped down on the sofa but stopped myself. Too obvious. Sitting there in full makeup as if I was waiting for him? No way.
"You’re pathetic," Akira snickered in my head. "Just admit you’re excited to see him again."
"Shut up," I muttered. "This is strictly part of our contract. I’m just planning to fulfill my Luna duties properly."
"Sure," she replied. "Your heart rate spikes every ti he walks through that door."
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t deny the flutter in my stomach.
Our rehearsals had been ta so far,so arm-draping and over-the-clothes hugs. G-rated at best.
But after that dinner with Octavia, sothing had shifted between us.
Were we adding a kiss tonight?
The thought sent a warm tingle.
I grabbed my compact and flipped it open.
Gave the mirror a breath test. Minty. No garlic ghost from dinner.
Lipstick: matte, smudge-proof.
I checked my phone. No ssages from Hudson. The clock read 9:30 PM.
9:45 PM.
10:00 PM.
With each passing minute, I felt more ridiculous. Here I was, primped and ready for a man who didn’t even bother to text. Maybe he was caught in a eting. Or traffic. Or maybe he’d found soone more interesting to spend his evening with.
"He could at least let us know," Akira growled, her pride wounded too.
I paced around the living room, checking my phone every few minutes. By 10:30, I’d gone from worried to irritated. By 11:00, I was genuinely angry. How dare he stand up without even a text?
Was this how he felt waiting at ho when I ran off to the bar with Ysolde to avoid rehearsal that day?
The thought made uncomfortable,like walking in his shoes for the first ti.
I flopped onto the couch, my perfect makeup wasted, my excitent replaced by disappointnt. The worst part was realizing how much I’d been looking forward to seeing him.
But Hudson Laurent never ca ho.
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