Page 17 of Softest Touch
“It's cold!” she squeaks, complaining. I quickly turn the faucet to hot, all the while devouring her lips.
I hadn't felt this way with any other woman, and that was one of the reasons I had given up years ago on finding someone who made me feel special. Soon, I discovered that my wealth was more important to others than my true self, and being used was not something I enjoyed. At all. One-night stands became my go-to until I came back home and met Melinda. After that day, I lost interest in everyone else.
Anyone but her.
She seemed to read me better than anyone else, and her sweetness mixed with stubbornness had a way of getting the best of me.
* * *
After breakfast, we begin preparing to head to Spring Studios. It's going to be a hectic day, and as always, I'm eager to see people's reactions. I've secretly worked on this collection for almost six months since I should have been on vacation, and I can't wait to share it with the world.
Melinda enters the living room, holding her dress up in front of her. “Derek, could you help me zip it?”
“Sure, turn around.” I pull up the zipper and place a gentle kiss on her shoulder, feeling her skin cover in goosebumps.
“The car should be here already,” she says, grabbing her blazer and bag, then narrowing her eyes at me. “Are you okay?”
I'm so captivated by her beauty; I don’t realize she's waiting for me. I blink a few times and nod, grabbing my iPad.
The energy at Spring Studios excites me. As I head to our section, Melinda goes in another direction, but it no longer bothers me. Some models are getting ready, and some are already dressed.
The first show will be private for store chain owners, but later it will open to the public and media.
“We're ready,” says José, lining up the models in order to exit.
I glance around and notice someone is missing. “Where's Catalina?”
José shakes his head. “She hasn't arrived yet.”
“Are you kidding me?” I snap at him, regretting it right away. “I’m sorry, I know it's not your fault.”
“I thought she told you she’ll be late.”
“She didn't! Dammit!” I storm into the nearby room and try to call her, but the call goes straight to voicemail. I then call her agent, who answers on the first ring:
“Mr. Wilson, what a pleasure to hear from you.”
“Jamal, where is Catalina?” I snap without even greeting him.
“I thought she was in New York with you.”
I pace back and forth, holding back the urge to punch the wall. “She's not here, and the parade is about to begin.”
“I'm sorry, I'll try to contact her immediately.”
“When you find her, tell her she's fired, and I'll never work with her again!” I yell, envisioning my entire show being compromised. Damn it!
“I... I'm really sorry. She's never missed a fashion show before. I could send you someone else…”
“You wouldn't make it in time, but I appreciate it,” I say, hanging up and running my hands through my hair. I am furious! She knew she'd be wearing the most important piece of the whole collection.
“Hey,” Melinda approaches, “what's going on? Everything's ready out there. Why are you so nervous?”
I pull her into a hug, breathing in her perfume. “A model didn't show up,” I whisper as her hands rub my back.
“You're kidding.” Her eyes widen as she realizes exactly what I’m thinking.
“Five minutes, and we'll start, Mr. Wilson,” someone informs me.