Muse in Lingerie_Lingerie 1

by Penelope Sky

  “You could have asked permission first.”

  “I don’t ask for permission,” he snapped. “Every model who wears my lingerie belongs to me. I can do whatever I damn well please. Now, if you want to work for me, your attitude is going to have to change.”

  “Asking me to change my attitude is like asking me to change my personality.”

  “Then control it.” He slid his hands into his pockets and headed to the stairs. “We have a lot of work to do. Be in my dressing room at six tomorrow morning—and expect to be touched.” He took the stairs until he was back in the aisle.

  “Six in the morning?” I asked incredulously. I usually wasn’t up until eight.

  “Yes.” He adjusted his cuff link then looked at his watch. “I start my day at four.”

  Jesus Christ. If I were a billionaire, I’d allow myself the luxury of sleeping in every day. “I know this is a weird request, but I need to be paid under the table. If that can’t happen…then I can’t do this.”

  Once he was finished with his sleeves, he looked up at me again. His bright green eyes cut into me like they were knives. He watched me with distinct coldness, the ice reaching every corner of the room. He could replace me with another beautiful woman at any moment. People didn’t make requests like mine unless they were hiding something illegal. I definitely was, and he might not want to help a fugitive. “I accept your terms. But that means you better accept mine.”

  4

  Conway

  I used the top floor of the building for my studio. I had views of the historic cathedral and the rest of the fashion capital of the world. The city was at my feet, and I liked looming over it like a powerful statue.

  Watching the sun rise from the window gave me one of the most spiritual experiences of my life. It made me appreciate what I had, appreciate how much I’d conquered this beautiful planet.

  A knock sounded on the office door.

  “Come in.” I flipped through my sketchbook at the table, looking at the design I’d been composing for the past week. A gray push-up dress embedded with real diamonds, it was made for a queen about to be conquered by a king. Only the wealthiest woman could afford such a gorgeous piece of lingerie—or the man she was fucking. I was eager to feel the fabric with my fingertips, to secure the material with real diamonds. When I presented it at the show next week, it would be the masterpiece.

  Now I just needed the right woman to show it off.

  Lacey Lockwood stepped inside, holding two cups of coffee. “Morning.”

  I didn’t pull my gaze away from the sketch. “You’re up early.”

  “Going for a long run with some of the girls.” She set the coffee cup directly next to my hand. “I went by the bakery around the corner…the one you like so much.”

  When I raised my gaze to look at her, I watched her sneak a peek at my drawing. I suspected she’d seen it before. “Nicole can do that for me.”

  “I don’t mind. It was on my way.” Her hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, and she wore black leggings with a teal sports bra. A few strands of blond hair came loose and hung around her face.

  I never slept with my models. It was a rule I refused to break. Lacey obviously thought she could change my mind. She wanted to be the woman on my arm, to feast on my power and riches. And she wanted to be my number one girl—the one with all the spotlight.

  “I should get to work, Lacey.” I stepped away from her and ignored her coffee. “Enjoy your run.”

  My back was to her so I couldn’t see her expression, but I was certain she didn’t care for the rejection. Her voice wasn’t as confident when she spoke. “Thank you. Have a good day…” She let herself out.

  Once she was gone, I tossed the cup in the garbage can.

  Nicole stepped in a moment later. “Good morning, Conway. I have everything you asked for.” She set the folders on the table and went through the orders with me. I needed specific fabrics from Turkey, and Nicole handled all the important things in my life.

  “Thank you, Nicole.”

  “And here’s your morning coffee.” She set the cup on the table. “I’ll be back with your breakfast in a little bit.”

  I grabbed it and took a drink. “Thank you.”

  She walked out, leaving me alone with my work again.

  Exactly at six o’clock, there was a knock on the door.

  I knew who it was. “Come in.”

  The door opened, and Ten walked inside. She was in jeans and a t-shirt, looking more like a tourist than a model. Flat sandals were on her feet, and her hair was pulled back into a lazy ponytail. She didn’t put a single ounce of effort into her appearance whatsoever. “If you want to be a model, you need to start acting like it.”

  “Good morning to you too, asshole.”

  My neck snapped in her direction because I couldn’t believe what I just heard. Someone just called me an asshole—to my face. No one else had the stupidity to do such a thing—or the bravery. I dropped my pencil and faced her head on. “If you think I’m an asshole now, you should see what I’ll do if you walk in tomorrow looking like that.”

  “What’s wrong with how I look?”

  For a woman walking on the street, she was beautiful. No denying it. I would have noticed her just like every other man. But I didn’t appreciate her lack of professionalism. Models didn’t come into my studio unless they were looking their best. “Everything.”

  Her blue eyes narrowed immediately, and without moving, it seemed as if she coiled like a snake. She wanted to sink her teeth into me and drain me of all my blood. “At least we have something in common, because everything is wrong with you too.”

  No one ever talked to me that way, but yet, I kept letting it go on. “When you walk down these hallways, I expect you to be ready to hit the stage. That means your hair should be done, your makeup should be flawless, and you should be kissing the floor in gratitude.”

  “Gratitude? I should feel grateful for being insulted?”

  “Yes, when those insults come from me.”

  She pressed her lips tightly together and shook her head. “You’re far more arrogant than I ever anticipated.”

  “Yes, and I have every reason to be.” I turned back to my sketch. “Have some coffee and then pull on a pair of heels. I’m teaching you a few things.”

  “You don’t pay someone else to do it?”

  I finished the mark I wanted to make against the paper. “Not when I want it done right.”

  She moved behind me, walking to the silver heels sitting on the other table. “I’m sure you don’t give a damn, but I got kicked out of my hostel. There wasn’t enough room so I didn’t have a shower this morning. Otherwise, I would have looked nicer.”

  My pencil froze against the paper, and I felt my heart tighten in my chest. A wave of guilt overtook me, and I felt sick to my stomach. This woman was living on the street, which meant she barely had a few euros in her pockets. She probably didn’t have dinner last night or breakfast this morning. “You’re right. I don’t give a damn.” I closed the notebook and watched her sit on the chair as she pulled on the heels. “There’s a shower down the hall. You can use it tomorrow.”

  She tightened the strap around her ankles. “Thanks…” Her word barely came out as a whisper, probably because she hated thanking me even though I didn’t completely lack compassion.

  “Stop.”

  She had one shoe on, but she stopped before she pulled on the other.

  “Clothes off first.”

  “I’m not taking my clothes off.” Like my words were gasoline, she immediately fired up.

  “What did I tell you last night?” I crossed my arms over my chest and stared down this ornery woman. I offered to respect her privacy and ignore her past if she was cooperative. I was giving her a chance no one else would extend. The only reason I was putting up with this bullshit was because she had a unique quality. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it was impossible not to see. The other nine models on tha
t stage were just as beautiful, but they paled in comparison to the woman before me. Even in jeans and messy hair, she was gorgeous—but I refused to tell her that.

  She barely hid her sigh of annoyance before she pushed the shoe off her foot.

  “Strip to your panties and bra.”

  She rose to her feet but still hesitated, like I was asking her to do something much worse.

  I watched her, seeing the way her chest rose and fell deeply. The battle was raging on her face, the fight for her dignity and her need to survive. Her cheeks were paler than they were last night, but that could be because her makeup was gone. Her eyes shifted back and forth before she finally pulled her shirt over her head.

  I wanted to remind her that she didn’t have to do this. She could just walk out if she wanted to. But the selfish man inside me didn’t want to let her go. I needed this woman. The second I laid eyes on her, I knew she was special.

  She set the shirt on the table, standing in a black bra that looked like it was from a typical outlet store. The straps were thin and cutting into her shoulders incorrectly, and the cups were slightly too big for her size, as if she had lost weight recently. But her attire couldn’t diminish just how beautiful she was underneath.

  Her skin actually glowed. With a bright complexion and a sprinkling of freckles, her body was a blank canvas. She didn’t even need foundation on her shoulders or back because she was blemish-free. She was gorgeous—from head to toe.

  She removed her jeans next, pulling them down until she stood in a black thong. Her tanned skin complemented the dark lace. Her legs were sculpted and toned, and her ass was big like a bubble. She was one of the curviest models I’d ever seen. She had a tiny rib cage but an incredible bust size. The length of her torso was perfect, on the longer side but not too long. Her legs were the perfect length, and they would rock anything I dressed her in.

  She sat down again and pulled on the heels.

  I leaned against the table and watched her, seeing her brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. It was long and shiny. I remembered the way it looked last night when it was done with big curls.

  Nicole knocked before she stepped inside. She set the tray on the table where she placed my breakfast every morning. “Anything else, sir?”

  “No.” My eyes remained on Ten, watching her get the heels on.

  Nicole understood my moods better than anyone, so she let herself out.

  When Ten was finished, she rose to her feet and faced me. She couldn’t mask the irritation in her eyes, but she did the best she could. Taking off her clothes was something she didn’t enjoy doing—clearly.

  She would get used to it. “Perfect.” I walked to the other side of the room where there was twenty feet of open space. I turned back to her and crossed my arms over my chest. “Walk to me.”

  She took a few steps—and they were all horrendous.

  “Stop.”

  She halted in her tracks. “What?”

  “Walk like you aren’t touching the ground.”

  Her fire erupted again. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Walk with grace. I know you can do it. You just walked in the door a few minutes ago.”

  “But I wasn’t wearing these.” She pointed at her feet. “I’ve worn heels a lot in my life, and these are not heels. These are death shoes. I’m walking like a ballerina.”

  “The girls do it every day. You will too.”

  When she knew I wouldn’t budge, she sucked it up and did it.

  “Shoulders back.”

  She improved her posture.

  “Straight spine.”

  She adjusted herself again.

  “Put all your weight on your toes. That’ll stop your heels from wobbling.”

  She shifted her stance again, and this time, she finally looked perfect. She stopped when she reached me, her gaze boring into mine.

  I looked her up and down, admiring her curves and her beautiful skin. She reminded me of a doll, someone so beautiful they couldn’t be real. Her hair was pulled back and her features weren’t highlighted with makeup, but that didn’t stop her from stealing my entire focus.

  And making me hard as fuck.

  “Turn around.”

  She hesitated before she cooperated.

  My hand immediately grabbed her ponytail, and I tugged the hair tie out until her hair was finally free. It expanded down her shoulders, a slight crease in the strands where the tie had gripped the hair. Slightly wavy, it trailed down her body to the middle of her back. “Walk.”

  She walked across the room, incorporating everything I just told her. She looked elegant and smooth, a natural at being the sexiest thing alive. The heels tapped against the floor at a perfect rhythm and her ass shook in time to her steps.

  My eyes drilled into her luscious ass, admiring those rounded cheeks. She had a body women would die for. She was tight in all the right places, and all woman in others. The curves between her hips and ass were proportional. The crease underneath her cheeks made me want to squeeze her ass with my bare hands. A woman that looked this flawless would make my art a million times more desirable.

  It would make all the difference in the world.

  * * *

  After she put her clothes back on, I pulled out the chair at the table. “Sit.”

  “Do you order everyone around like that?” She fixed her hair with fingertips as she looked in the mirror.

  I talked to everyone however I wanted. “Yes. Now sit.”

  She obeyed, but with silent attitude. She took a seat and looked at the tray Nicole had placed there thirty minutes ago. “What’s this?”

  “Breakfast. Are you hungry?”

  “Uh…” She licked her lips instinctively as she stared at the egg whites with the side of sautéed kale, mushrooms, and tomatoes. There was also a slice of sourdough bread and a few pieces of avocado. “Isn’t this for you?”

  “I already ate. Help yourself.”

  She didn’t put up a fight and immediately picked up her fork. She started eating, placing the food in her mouth at a rapid rate, but retaining her elegance and eating properly at the same time. She hardly looked up because she was more interested in her food than me. It was like I wasn’t there at all.

  Knowing she was starving and had no place to sleep at night made me wonder what she was running from. I shouldn’t care, so there was no point pondering it. If I asked, she wouldn’t answer me anyway. She wasn’t wanted for murder, I knew that much. She had quite the mouth on her but not a violent bone in her body. She didn’t seem like someone who would break in to someone’s house and rob them. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be sleeping on the street. She’d be squatting on someone’s property. Whatever her offense was, she wasn’t dangerous. But that only made her more mysterious to me.

  I had a small safe in my office, so I cracked it open and pulled out a pile of Euros. I stuffed them into an envelope then set it on the table beside her. “This is for you.”

  It was the only thing that could get her to stop eating. She chewed her food slowly and swallowed it before she stuck a thumb inside and expanded the opening. “What’s this?”

  “An advance.”

  “There’s got to be two thousand Euros in here…”

  “It should get you what you need for the next few weeks.”

  It was the first time she showed me a genuine reaction. Her eyes lit up like it was Christmas morning, and she gripped the envelope tightly, as if I might snatch it back. But then she put it back on the table and pushed it toward me. “I can’t accept it. I haven’t done anything. All I did was spend a few hours with you…”

  I pushed it back. “Take it.”

  “No.” She pushed it back again. “I appreciate it…but it would be wrong.”

  It was hard to believe this woman would be so proud when she had so little. She cared more about her dignity and self-respect than taking the easy way out. It showed a kind of bravery I hadn’t seen…ever. Now I understood why it was so difficul
t for her to take her clothes off for me. This woman lived by a different code of ethics than everyone else. “I take care of my girls.”

  She eyed the envelope one last time before she turned away. “My final answer is no.”

  I wanted to force her to take the money, but I didn’t know how I could make that happen. I would just deposit it into her bank account, but since she didn’t have that, that wasn’t possible. “Where will you go tonight?”

  She pushed her eggs around with her fork. “That’s not your problem. Don’t worry about me.”

  It was impossible for me not to worry about a beautiful woman alone on the streets. She was hungry and dirty, and she deserved more than that. “How about this? You see that bed over there?” I nodded to the corner, where a large king-size bed sat. It was covered with soft sheets and decorative pillows.

  “What’s it for?”

  It didn’t matter what I used it for. “Sleep here until you’re on your feet. There’s a bathroom down the hall, and the break room always has leftover food. What do you say?”

  “I…I don’t know.”

  My patience had officially expired. “Ten, you’re taking one or the other. Now, pick. As one of the Barsetti models, you’re my property. I can’t have a dirty, sleep-deprived, starving woman on the runway. You’re hurting me as much as yourself. So choose.”

  She eyed the bed in the corner, her eyes lidded and heavy. “This is so embarrassing…”

  “I’m not judging you, Ten.”

  “I never should have told you. I should have just kept my mouth shut.” She left the table even though she hadn’t finished the meal sitting in front of her. She grabbed the heavy bag she’d left by the door, and I hadn’t even considered how odd it was that she would bring such a big bag with her. But then I realized it contained all the possessions she had.

  “Ten.” I didn’t need to raise my voice to establish my power. All anyone needed to do was listen to it, and they would know not obeying wasn’t an option. “If you walk out that door, you’re fired.”