CHAPTER567
Getting home I kick my shoes off across the hall and throw down my jacket and bag in another rage. I seem to come home feeling this way every single day now. My front door meets a daily temper tantrum and my blood pressure hasn’t been normal in months.
My day started bad and only ended up close to tears when the ‘mean girls’ managed to rile me up at every opportunity and then one of them fell over my mannequin, hauling my pinned dress with her and ripped it off the stand. A whole day’s work wasted on adjusting a finished piece and a whole week of finishing the god damn thing. I feel like giving up. I so wanted to punch her in the face and stomp on her head, but I kept telling myself that I needed to breathe and count to ten before reacting. Just like Arry showed me… Breathe and don’t kill anyone.
It’s practically my mantra, fifty times a day.
I ended up walking out early, taking all my drawings and my dress and clearing out my workspace in five seconds flat. Unable to control the fiery demon that wanted to rip her stupid clumsy head from her shoulders. Claude said nothing about my early departure, just smiled and waved as he saw me hauling on my jacket and heading angrily to the door. I swear I heard Olivia laugh behind me, and if she’s not careful, I may go in tomorrow and end this childish feud she has with me spectacularly. She hasn’t met crazy psycho Sophie who was taught how to throw a punch and disable a human by the current MME champion in the USA. Arry has turned me into a capable little fighting machine over the last two years and she better watch her back.
I can kill her with my thumbs!
“Bonjour, Mademoiselle Huntsberger, you had a good day, non?” Janetta our housekeeper comes sauntering from the kitchen, the smells of homemade bread and something good wafting after her now she has opened the door to let it escape. Arry made a point of increasing her hours over the past months as he disappeared more and more so that I wouldn’t be alone so much and even though I barely understand her most of the time, I like her company. It’s better than the silence of being alone here.
She is a kind older woman who reminds me a lot of my own mom at times. Caring, maternal, wise with a soft face, although she is a lot older with grey hair in a permanent neat bun and rosy cheeks which kind of make me think of Mrs. Claus. She always dresses in floral frocks, and navy cardigans, over dark laced up shoes. She’s very old world and I absolutely love her.
“Not particularly, but I’m sure whatever is cooking will make me feel a lot better. I’m starving.” I try for a smile and it ends as a grimace of some weird proportions. I was never any good at smiling through murderous thoughts without coming off as creepy.
“Ahhh, but oui, you love our food, non. You are a good girl with your hearty appetite.” She smiles at me, crinkling eyes and puffing cheeks in an almost proud way and pats me on the shoulder before turning on her heel.
“How long do I have before it’s dished? I want to call Arry.” I watch her go, head on just finding my calm in his voice. My deep breath in just connecting to him.
“Deux minutes, ma Cherie…on you go.” She doesn’t turn back and leaves me staring after her like a moron, trying to count in French in my head and getting nowhere fast. I don’t even know what comes after one. Arry usually translates my life here and when he is not around, I become completely hopeless. I shake it off and head to my bedroom instead, pulling my cell from my discarded bag with a sigh and figure I better tell him I have ‘dooo meenootes’ before dinner.
Once inside and nestled on the bed I call his cell and hope I’m not interrupting anything important. The time delay confuses me most days, so I gave up working it out; he never seems pissed when I call anyway, and he always answers.
“Hey, baby.” Arry is like a warm summer breeze washing over me the second he does, and I literally uncoil all the tension in my body in a nanosecond and physically relax.
“Hey, you. I miss you.” I sink back into the cushions on the bed.
“I miss you more… Did you just get in from school? Bit early for you isn’t it?” He asks softly, immediately homing in on the fact I’m calling him an hour earlier than normal; always aware of minute details like that and it makes me miss him more so and his attentive presence.
“Yeah, I have things to work on for the show that are better done here.” It’s not a complete lie.
“Ah, I see. How’s it going, are you almost ready for it?” he sounds a little distracted and I can hear the hustle bustle of a busy environment.
“So, so. I’ll be running around like a headless chicken right until the show is in full swing, I think. I’m trying not to think beyond the right now or I might freak out.” Closing my eyes and curling up, cuddling a cushion to try to envision him. I so badly need an Arrick Carrero hug about now.
“You will be fine, baby. I have every faith in your abilities and your show will be a knockout. I can’t wait to … Hold on.” Arry answers someone in the room with him, covering the receiver so it’s muffled, and I can hear what I assume is his PA Amanda’s voice in the background and immediately eyeroll. She tends to interrupt whenever I call him, and it irritates me. I miss him like mad and I just want one call where I have his full attention without her feeling like something more pressing should be discussed.
“Sure,” I mumble to no one in particular as his cell is clearly not attached to his head. I listen to the muffled sounds of Carrero Corp and try to picture it in my head instead. I’ve been there a million times now, even in Arrick’s office more than once. Naughty boy had me christen his desk one lunchtime when I took him some food.
I smile at the memory and feel a little less sour about his straying attention. He never really changed from the first months of our relationship and he still has just as high a sex drive as he did back then. Sometimes I revert to not wanting it, to not being touched and sometimes the dreams and memories creep in and shake me up. But Arry has never changed from being understanding and supportive in that way too, and effortlessly seems to know what I need. Be it a hug or distance, or to just hold onto me through a bad dream and lull me out of it with soft words. I couldn’t imagine having anyone else love me in the way he does, and it just makes me want him home more achingly in this second.
“Sorry, baby, we have so much shit going on here these past months. My schedule is crazy, and I never get a minute alone. What were we saying?” He sounds tired. I can picture my tired Adonis, his eyes a hazy brown with flecks of green and that cute cropped hair ruffled messily. He has his brothers’ habit of messing with his hair when he’s agitated or tired.
“My show, but can we switch to another topic as it is just stressing me out. Talk to me about anything else.”
“Okay, but you’ll be fine. … I’m coming home the night before, so I’ll be in bed with you to keep you calm and help you before the grand reveal. I can be your muscle, or you know, your assistant or some shit.” That tone in his voice hints that he is smiling and I eyeroll.
“You are my muscle, and I won’t need to do much on the morning of the show as we are setting up the night before. You can just focus on distracting me, giving me a lot of reunion sex, and putting a smile on my face before I have to endure what is potentially the start … or end… to my fashion career.” I gulp this time, despite trying to hide my fears.
“It’s going to be the beginning of huge things for you; I’ve seen your sketches remember? I know you’re talented. I may not be a fashion designer, but I know what’s good, and we do work with a lot of your type for our campaigns. Enough that I can see someone standing out with skill.” He’s schmoozing me, like he always does, and I’m grateful.
“Stop! … It’s a done deal, you’re getting laid on your return, so you don’t have to chat me up.” I giggle at him, lighter, less suffocated with my own moods.
“I already know you’re a sure thing… I’m being serious though, Sophs. You’re crazily talented, so stop stressing out about this show.” His soft sexy voice removes the last traces of my anxious turn and I spread out across the bed, rolling to his side in hopes of any lingering Arry scent, but Janetta has changed the bedding again. I sigh and inhale floral laundry powder instead."
