Arranged(68)

“It’s not as obscure as you might think. It circulates pretty heavily in the modeling community.”

“Why’d you do it?” she asked. There was no judgement in the question, just probing curiosity.

“I was in a bad place. I’d spent about four years struggling. Don’t get me wrong, I had some success, but it never felt like it mattered. My life was not improving. No matter what I did, it felt like I was still drowning.”

Our eyes met. “I know the feeling,” she stated.

I was sure she did.

“Most models spend all the money they make trying to prove they’re worth something on Instagram,” she said.

I nodded. “Exactly. The average successful modeling career lasts less than four years. I’ve had more luck at it than most, but I’m well aware that it’s temporary. I started at fourteen, that means I’m coasting on borrowed time and, even with some success, this industry will likely still be done with me directly after my teens. I was making decent money, but nowhere near enough to retire at twenty.”

“God, that’s depressing,” Jovie lamented. “And it’s all true.”

“I wanted to be more,” I explained. I wanted her of all people to understand. “To change my station in life. To be untouchable.”

“And now you’re a Castelo. That’s about as untouchable as it gets.”

I nodded, meeting her eyes squarely. She got it. “It was a lonely choice to make, but I can’t regret it.”

Her hand covered mine. “Your life’s not lonely anymore. If you have one person, you’re never alone, right? You’ve got me. Always.”





CHAPTER





THIRTY





Banks followed me to Paris. He came bearing gifts in a wealth of aquamarine jewelry. I didn’t recognize it from the family cache. He told me it was a late birthday gift and that it reminded him of my eyes.

And then he stayed with me. I couldn’t quite believe it, and I couldn’t fathom why or how he was able to take so much time away from all of his business projects, but he did for almost two weeks. He shadowed me everywhere like he had nowhere else he wanted to be. He came to all my shoots and took me out every day after I was done working.

We ate at all the best restaurants, extravagant French food or lavish Italian, and somehow he talked me out of counting most of my calories.

We drank cheap sparkling wine at the foot of the Eiffel Tower and expensive champagne at the top.

He spent four hours chasing me leisurely through the Louvre, snapping pictures of me only when I wasn’t posing for them. At one point, I almost fell into an undoubtedly priceless vase.

He caught me with a warm smile, drawing me close. “We wouldn’t want you to fall into anything expensive.”

“Except you,” I teased.

“Fall into me all you want,” he murmured. “As far as you’re concerned, I’m free.”

I lost my breath. My heart pounded. He had changed so much toward me in such a short time, and I couldn’t tell when he was teasing anymore and when he was serious, but I didn’t pursue it any further. I was too wary of him still to push my luck.

We spent a day in Versailles, staring at our golden reflections and making out in every decadent, dark corner we could find.

One day we went on a food and wine tour through the R district. I ate some of the cheese and drank all the wine. He ate double all the things I didn’t like. The stinky soft cheese, the duck paté, the caviar, and anything that ended with tartar. My palette for expensive, acquired tastes was underdeveloped, to say the least.

We marveled at every inch of Notre Dame for a full six hours, naming as many gargoyles as we could. We found a pop-up book of the city in the gift shop there and went on a tour to visit every single sight we hadn’t already seen. We went over and under the Arc de Triomphe, through the Centre Pompidou, Sacré-Coeur, and Les Invalides.

We took a silly selfie at each one.

Paris was a new chapter for us. I didn’t know why it was so, what had shifted, what was growing between the two of us, and we didn’t speak of it much, as though afraid we’d talk ourselves out of this spell.

It wasn’t my first time in Paris, but it was the first time I saw it through the eyes of a lover.

There was something in the air, a softer filter over the skyline day and night. Rose-colored glasses indeed.

I admitted to him that I loved the French custom of greeting with a kiss on both cheeks. He kissed my cheeks until I giggled and at least twenty times a day after that.

And we talked. He told me about his business interests. The fortune he’d made and lost, the one he was building again. He was passionate about it, which I had a cursory understanding of. He tried to explain it to me. He bought valuable, calculated pieces of land and built on them, then leased out the buildings and made a steady fortune in the bargain. It sounded a bit boring to me, but it clearly drove him. I gleaned that he was just as driven to surpass his father someday.

It was mid-morning. We were still abed. It was my only full day off on the trip, and we were taking full advantage.

I told him about some of my business ideas, things I’d been working on with his father. My ventures were adding up quickly. What had started out as a small idea to collaborate with Morphe for some signature matte liquid lip colors with my name attached had quickly sprouted into a full-on cosmetics line, brushes included. And I’d gone from modeling for Stuart Weitzman to designing my own shoe line.