The Wrong Bride (The Windsors, #1)(8)
She grabs a glass of champagne off a tray and smiles at me. “I just haven’t found a guy that can keep me captivated. I’m not willing to settle for anything short of complete devotion. I want epic love, and I’m willing to wait for it.”
Complete devotion, huh? Yeah, that’s exactly what she deserves. I wonder what kind of man will be able to win her over. For a moment, an image of her with Lexington flashes through my mind, and my blood runs cold.
“Raven!”
She glances to her side and smiles before turning back to me. “It’s my manager,” she tells me. “I guess it’s time for an endless amount of supposedly necessary socializing. I’ll catch you later, okay?”
I nod and watch her walk away, my gaze drifting to the man she’s walking toward. Her manager is staring at her in a way that cannot be described as professional. He looks enthralled, and I shift my weight from one foot to another uncomfortably. I want nothing short of happiness for Raven, but the thought of her falling for someone fills me with dread.
I suppose that’s what older brothers feel, isn’t it? It might not be identical to how I feel about Sierra dating, but it’s pretty damn close. That must be it.
Chapter Five
Ares
“Give this more news coverage,” I order, my eyes lingering on the articles about Raven’s couture brand. I didn’t realize it last night, but one of the brands on stage was hers. From what I can tell, her latest pieces have been received very well, and they deserve more attention than they’re getting.
What’s the point in owning several gossip and fashion magazines if I can’t use them to push my friend’s work? I hope her company continues to grow to the point that she’ll have to quit modeling for lack of time.
I hate how she’s become the object of men’s desires. They can’t see beyond her beauty, to the funny and kind girl within. I know how toxic this industry is, and I don’t want that for her. I want her safely behind the flashing lights, instead of in front of them.
Raven hasn’t been herself recently, and I’m worried about her. I’m worried it’s all becoming too much for her. The continuous dieting, the tough requirements that photographers have, the often harsh shooting environments. I never understood why she does it at all. She’s beautiful beyond words, but somehow, this career doesn’t suit her.
Her fashion brand, on the other hand? That’s perfect for her. It allows her creativity to shine through, and she still operates in the industry she grew up in, without being subjected to the very worst parts of fame.
“Bradford Manson called,” my assistant, Dom, tells me. “He wanted to inquire about the script he sent in. Based on your notes, it appears like we’re ready to okay the funding for his project. Should I put that into motion?”
I grit my teeth and look up sharply. “No,” I snap, my thoughts turning back to the way he spoke to Raven last night. “He’s a piece of shit unworthy of being stuck on the bottom of her fucking shoe.”
“What?” Dom says, confused.
I wave my hand in dismissal. “Forget it. I never want to hear that fucker’s name again. We won’t work with him again, and let it be known that any actor or actress that works with him will never work with Windsor Media again. The same goes for anyone that gives him funding.”
Dom’s eyes widen. “What did the poor sucker do for you to give him the Kiss of Death? He’ll never work again.”
I smirk at the stupid expression. Being blacklisted by the Windsors has been dubbed The Kiss of Death because it’s a slow-acting poison, and those who are hit with it often don’t even realize it until it’s too late, until they find themselves surrounded by the remains of their careers.
I shake my head. “I don’t give a fuck if he never works again. He should’ve thought of that before he let his mouth run. Let’s see where he’s going to get the money to pay for much of anything. Fucking asshole.”
My secretary nods, his shock apparent. I’m beyond reasonable most of the time — you have to be, in an industry filled with inflated egos. This fucker, though… he’s about to find out what happens when I lose my patience.
“Come to think of it,” I tell Dom, my finger tapping on my desk. “There’s a store manager called Andy. He works in our flagship mall. I want him fired. He works for one of the jewelry stores. I forgot what it’s called. Whatever Hannah’s favorite brand is, that one.”
Dom clears his throat uncomfortably. “If it’s one of the malls, then that’s real estate, and it falls under Sierra’s jurisdiction. You know she doesn’t like it when we interfere with her business.”
I lean back in my seat and stare at my secretary. He’s 6’3” and often mistaken for my bodyguard, yet he cowers at the thought of my sister. I suppose I can’t blame him. My little sister is somewhat unhinged, after all. “Call Sierra and tell her that Andy leered at Raven the whole time I was there with her, and that I want him gone. Doesn’t she want her best friend to be able to go to one of her malls without being objectified and lusted after?”
Dom’s eyes widen, a hint of anger in his eyes. “This Andy person dared offend Raven?” He grits his teeth and nods resolutely. “I’m on it.”