Arranged(21)

Why then was I still turned on? It was hard to fall asleep with the relentless throbbing in the pit of my belly that would not subside, but eventually I fitfully dozed.





CHAPTER





NINE





I decided the next day that living alone in my apartment was a huge a relief, although the alone part was short-lived, and my husband had nothing to do with that.

A girl named Jovie did.

I was backstage changing into my street clothes after a runway show. My part was over, and I was all set to leave when I was stopped in my tracks by a loud fight between two other models. I was across the room so I didn’t hear everything that was said, but the end result was one of them storming off, a triumphant smile on her face, and the other one bursting into tears.

This wasn’t all that unusual, and I might have minded my own business but for one little thing: the crying girl was young. Painfully young.

She didn’t look a day over fourteen.

It wasn’t unheard of to see a girl that young at this kind of show. It was an immensely high fashion dressmaker, and they loved fresh faces for the really avant-garde stuff.

Hell, I’d been her age when I’d moved to New York to model full-time.

I wasn’t in the best mood. I felt the night before in a sharp pain under my eyes and a constant clench in my gut. I wanted nothing more than to go home and be alone, but her broken sobs swayed me.

With a sigh, I walked across the room.

“Are you okay?” I asked her.

She sized me up with a pretty glare, like she thought I might pinch her. “I’m fine. Why?”

“You looked . . . upset. Is there anything I can do to help?”

She scoffed. “Unless you have a spare room for rent starting tonight, then no.”

“You need a place to crash?”

“Men are scum, you know that?”

I thought it over. “Yeah, I know that. Are you okay?”

“Do you really care?”

I thought that over too, studying her. God, she was young and as innocent looking as a little lost lamb. “I do.”

“I’ve been better, to be honest,” she eventually answered. “I just got dumped by my boyfriend, and now I need to find an apartment in Manhattan, which is like impossible, ya know?”

“How old are you?”

“Fifteen.” She saw my expression. “Practically fifteen. In less than two months,” she added defensively.

“And you were living with your boyfriend?”

“Yeah, so? My parents were taking all of my modeling money, so I paid my lawyers a small fortune and emancipated myself. I don’t like being alone all the time, so I moved in with my boyfriend. It was working out just fine . . . until today.”

“What’s your name?” I probably should have known it, I’d seen her around, but I’d been preoccupied with my own issues for a while now.

She didn’t seem offended. “I’m Jovie.”

“That’s a cool name.”

“Thanks. I made it up myself.”

“What’s your real name?”

“Jovie is now. I had it legally changed. I went with just the one name. Like Halsey. Or Beyonce. Or Madonna. Doesn’t it sound like the name of someone who’s going to be famous?”

I nodded encouragingly. “It for sure does.” She looked like someone who was going to be famous too. She was drop dead gorgeous, obviously biracial with stunning coloring: light brown skin, golden blonde hair, and sky blue eyes. “Nice to meet you, Jovie. I’m Noura.”

“Oh, I know who you are. You’re the snobby, famous, rich one who doesn’t talk to anyone.”

The rich part of that I was still getting used to, though it was accurate and didn’t bother me a bit. I’d done a lot for that money, and it was still fresh enough that the idea didn’t taste bitter. Yet. The snobby part now, that stung a little. I kept to myself, but I wasn’t a snob. I didn’t think I was better than anyone, I was just doing the best I could, though it wasn’t the first or even the tenth time I’d heard that said about me. “I’m talking to you, aren’t I?” I pointed out.

“But look what a fool I had to make of myself first,” she said with a disarming smile.

That startled a laugh out of me. The tears weren’t even dry on her face and already she was joking around. What a strange, interesting girl.

“What did she say to you?” I asked her. Jovie had seemed fine until the other girl had spoken to her.

“Ambrosia Hurst? She’s the one he left me for. You know how it is with these model chasers. They want a piece of us all. And she called me a baby prostitute.”

That made me so mad I felt my face turning red. “What a stone cold bitch.”

“I know, right? I absolutely hate being called a baby.”

There was a hint of a smile around her mouth as she said that last bit, and I couldn’t help but be charmed.

“I have an extra room,” I said impulsively. “You can crash there if you want.”

She eyed me warily. “I don’t want charity. I can pay for the room. I mean, until I find something more permanent. ’Kay?”

I shrugged. “Whatever. We’ll figure it out later. Are you hungry?”