Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75481 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75481 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
I stored the leftovers in his fridge because I was good at housekeeping duties too, but stopped at washing dishes. He was on his own there. Not that he’d asked me to tidy up, let alone serve him, but I figured it was the least I could do after the surprise meal.
I glanced around his apartment, noting all the boxes, fabric, and accessories lining every surface. Nothing new, but still, it was a lot. “Good God, you’d be hard to live with.”
“What do you mean?” There was an edge to his voice, and I realized I’d poked at some bruise. Or maybe just his gigantic ego.
I motioned with my arm. “All this stuff. How do you keep organized?”
By this time, it had become a rhetorical question about something I still marveled at.
“That’s why I have you,” he replied, admitting being grateful for me without realizing it, and that made my stomach feel strange.
Was that why I’d catch him staring at me sometimes with his expression all soft and open? I shut that thought down immediately. I was definitely never foremost in his mind. Ridiculous. But a word of appreciation every now and again didn’t hurt.
I snorted. “I can’t be with you twenty-four seven, nor would I want to.”
Though it was pretty comfortable in his apartment despite the chaos. I might even get used to it. With some ground rules. No, hell no. What was I even thinking?
“Anyway,” he replied, drawing out the last syllable, “let me go over my ideas.”
I folded my arms. “Go for it.”
“The photographer wants timeless shots because it’s a feature on Kendall’s rise to fame rather than a focus on the sartorial theme.”
This was another thing he did. Talked clothes and outfit changes with me even though he didn’t want my input. No way he’d take it anyway. He just needed a sounding board. And I needed a dictionary for all his popular buzzwords. Take the word sartorial, for example. It simply meant clothing. But no, Rowan had to make it sound all elegant and important. Also ludicrous, but I was used to it by now.
I’d admit I zoned out at some point, but I tuned back in just as he was finishing up.
“That sounds good,” I said as he began grouping his outfit choices together. Kendall could still veto him, so he needed backups. You always needed backups. I’d learned that the hard way during a shoot. He’d sent me out to a department store, of all places, to purchase a substitute blouse, which took me forever to pick out. I’d broken out in a cold sweat by the time he’d given his approval—after he’d complained comprehensively that I’d taken too long.
But Kendall was pretty laid-back and normally agreed with his decisions. Unless he tried to slip in animal print. I smiled to myself.
“What’s on your mind?” Rowan snapped.
“Huh?” I looked around, wondering if I’d zoned out again.
“You’re grinning about something, so it must be one of your ridiculous notions.”
“Nothing like that. I was only imagining you owning a fluffy lap dog by the name of Gucci or Prada and how absurd you’d look carting it around in some diamond-studded bag.”
His eyes widened. “Would never happen.”
“My first day of work, you threatened me with the idea.”
“I’d forgotten about that.” His face broke out in a genuine grin, not something that happened often, and his dazzling smile lit up his entire face. He snapped his fingers in front of my face. “Are you feverish or something? Maybe check your hearing.”
“Huh? Why?”
“Because I just threatened to get a studio dog, and you didn’t even respond.”
“A studio dog? Like, a dog that lives at your place of business?”
“Sure, why not? I always see cats residing in clothing stores.”
“Cats are self-sufficient. Dogs live and die by your every word.” I thought of Daisy, our golden retriever who’d passed at the age of twelve. It still smarted.
“Then never mind. We can’t have that.”
Very interesting that he’d even entertain the idea in the first place. I pretended it had nothing to do with me or my influence.
4
I helped Rowan carefully wrap the designs for transport to the shoot tomorrow. I’d already ordered Rowan a car service and would meet him at the photographer’s studio. After all was said and done, the clothes would have to be returned with promises made to the different design houses if they were selected for the magazine spread. That choice would be made by the photographer and magazine representatives.
“I’m going to take off,” I said. “Mind if I use your bathroom first?”
“Feel free.”
I went down the hall, passing his bedroom on the way. Why was I surprised that his headboard and dressers were a rich brown walnut that looked solid and expensive, but his sheets were a disheveled mess?
I washed my hands at his modern vanity with the cool faucet, then wiped them dry on the monogrammed towels.