“It’s over… I can’t believe it’s over.” I gush at Christian as we stand by the wine glass display and help
ourselves to a glass of white. The room fast filling with the audience as they exit the catwalk area and
into the banquet with us; the designers have been pensively awaiting their arrival after each slot saw us
put in here out of the way.
My slot was over almost three hours ago, and we have been in here sipping on wine and nervously
picking at food, too uptight to even watch my fellow students’ collections from the wings. Not that I want
to watch any of them, having had enough of them all year long and their incessant ass wipe ways. We
had the room mostly to ourselves until the show ended, seeing as they all wanted to watch each other
and root for their friends so now it’s filling up, the full force of anxiety hits me hard.
I grasp Christians arm tightly as the very obvious flow of important people come into the room in a
stream like line. I recognize so many influential faces and the ones I don’t are most likely just as
important.
God, I feel sick.
Christian pulls out his cell and turns it to me … Arry’s name flashing on screen and I know Christian
has been sending him the odd sly text when he doesn’t think I’m looking. I didn’t even bring my cell; left
it in my bedroom so I wouldn’t be tempted, and I don’t want to talk to him even now. Still furious with
him and gutted that it’s done, it’s over now and he didn’t come here. No surprise showing up and it all
being a huge joke, nope. Still no Arry and I don’t care about seeing him right now either. My heart is still
experiencing the intense slice of pain at his name and I think that says it all.
“Answer or…?” Christian asks warily but my death glare only makes him slide it back in his jacket with
a coy little smile that portrays a hint of fear. Christian knows all sides of me after two years of
friendship. He knows when to step away from a battle to live to see another day.
My stomach gurgles with nerves and the pressure on my bladder from all the wine we have been
sipping is making me uncomfortable. I need a few minutes to pull myself together before the swanning
around with important guests begins. I tap him gently.
“Going to the ladies’ room back there where it’s cool. Hold this for me.” I hand him my glass and kiss
him on the cheek automatically. Soothing his ruffled feathers over glaring at him.
“Sure thing. Put a new layer of lippy on. You’re about to impress a whole host of Fashionistas, my little
Diva.” Christian winks at me as I grab my bag from the floor between us and head out to the back
walkway between the function rooms. We call this the storage hallway as even though it’s a passage to
and from various areas, it’s also used to store props, rails, and other heavy items in the school. It’s a bit
like being backstage at a theatre.
The tiny bathroom back here is empty, and I have to switch on the light when I enter, tucked away
between racks of brown paper and weird items. This is why I chose to come here and not use the main
ones out by the buffet room. I want solitude and five minutes to pull myself together. I need to draw
some strength from somewhere and get my head back in the game. Let the wine I’ve consumed wear
off a little bit. It’s all a bit surreal and I curse myself for drinking so much while waiting.
I’m quick to use the bathroom, powder my face and apply a new pout of red lips before smoothing
down my dress and heading out the door to get back to the party. Nerves are calmer, head clearer and
I am deliberately pushing all thoughts of Mr A. Carrero. firmly out of my brain.
“Sophie, Mon Cherie, may I have a little word?” Claude’s voice swoons my way in a rather dominant
way and I double take him walking out from the shadows of the hall towards me. He seems to have
been standing there waiting and I wonder if he followed me out here as soon as I left.
Shit.
I sigh heavily, gut dropping and nod at him as he closes the gap between us outside the room I just left.
He turns to me with a smile when he comes level and leaves me no real escape route as he makes
himself a barrier in the space, back to where Christian is.
“I’m sorry to delay you from the crowd. I just felt we had something to discuss that needed a moment of
privacy from prying eyes of the other girls.” He smiles again and then reaches out and removes a stray
piece of fluff from the front of my bodice just above my left breast. I flinch at the surprise movement; his
hot careful fingers leave a searing mark on my chest that makes me feel instantly nauseous and try not
to jump back in reaction. Holding my breath when he rubs his fingers in the air, dropping the lint that I
swear I cannot see. My heartbeat rises, and nerves immediately rush to the forefront again, my full
body on high alert. I try to control myself, reason that I am overreacting and to get a grip before I make
a complete idiot of myself.
“Go on.” My voice is shaking, and I hope he doesn’t see the sudden tension in me. Trying so hard to
hide it, but two years living with Arry have seriously softened my ability to bring up that cool outer wall
and hide my natural instinct. Arry has been crushing my defenses for a long time and now they are
practically non-existent. I’ve gone soft. He has shielded me for too long from other men and I no longer
know how to react.
“The school is very impressed with your collection, your general focus and commitment through your
year here… We feel you are exactly the talented kind of student that our school excels at producing.”
He’s talking at me, a little too close for my liking as I stand poised and rigid, aware that I can feel and
smell his wine drenched breath on my face, because he has no sense of personal space.
“Thank you… That really means a lot to me” I sound feeble. Hands trembling as though a deeper
instinct is telling me to run away from him.
“We want to offer you the second year officially, with a full scholarship. Which would be your third and
last term …to complete your degree in Paris. This is something we rarely award and has to be an
exceptional student.” He smiles widely clearly impressed with himself and I gawp at him. Torn in two at
how I should feel or respond.
Dumbstruck because I knew I had a chance at a second year, another tutor already told me, but I never
expected it to be with a full scholarship. On my resume that would be huge, singled out as an
exceptional student could make a massive impact on where I go from here. All year my focus has been
getting to this point, so we can have our life back and yet here I stand, being offered a once in a lifetime
opportunity to go further and my heart is sinking. I’ve done nothing but think about this for the past
couple of weeks and yet, Paris is not where I want to be. Now faced with it as a reality, I no longer want
it.
“I … I…” I stammer unable to formulate a response as I try to find the best way to say I don’t want to
stay. Paris is ruining everything for me. Everything I love is crumbling to dust the longer I stay.
“Do not answer yet.” He reaches up and silences me with a finger on my lips that sends me into an
immediate freeze, moving so close than I step back and knock into a stray clothes rail that’s up behind
me. I don’t know how I managed to wedge myself in this way, but I somehow have, and he stops dead
still, his skin still on my lips as I try not to visibly react. He rubs it across my mouth, and I know instantly
that my gut feeling for days now was right. This is not appropriate or warranted at all. He shouldn’t be
touching me and yet my limbs have turned to lead, and I cannot move or breath to react. Trapped in
fear like a scared rabbit.
“There are certain things that are attached to the offer… As the main decision maker and the one who
put you forward for the scholarship.” His eyes narrow on me and as I back up the rail doesn’t budge.
I’m pinned against it. I try to pull my face back to get his hand off me but he’s fast and his mouth follows
without any sort of warning.
Hard stubbled face hits mine as his lips take place of his fingers and for a second the stomach-
churning stench smell of memory of another old man with a raspy beard and alcohol breath comes over
me. Frozen in complete terror as memory battles reality and I retch as nausea overwhelms me.
Dragged back to earth by the rough hand grasping on my breast cruelly, the way he pushes roughly
into me with a hard dick, bulging from his pants as he tries to force it against my pelvis. The way he’s
trying to force my lips open with a fat slimy tongue forcefully. It slaps me out of my shocked submissive
state, reacting instinctively in a way Arrick made me repeat a thousand times in a boxing ring.
Instinctive self-defense.
I snatch his hand from my breast, twist back and around until his face draws back in surprise at how I’m
hurting him. It leaves me room to connect a knee to his groin with crazy force as my other hand makes
a jabbing v shaped finger poke to his face. I get both his eyes at once, as knee bone crunches with
groin bone and his muffled cry signals him crumpling in a heap on the floor. The fury and fear fuels
enough adrenalin to make my assault really impact and I bring a six-feet asshole down to the ground in
one swift Arrick Carrero assault move. I would high five him right now if he was here and I was not
terrified of Claude getting back up.
I don’t wait around, for even a second. I jump over his slumped groaning form and high tail it as fast as
I can back to the main room and make a panicked beeline straight for Christian. Breathing heavily,
heart pounding so fast and hard I think I may have a heart attack and push into the crowd to get to my
goal. Trying to not faint, I ignore his little brood of female admirers, sickeningly pawing over the cute
blonde gay guy like a trophy wife. I grab his hand and tug him with me at speed and head straight for
the door to the stage we had our show.
“Sophie, what the hell?” Christian is shocked by the behavior and maneuver, staring at me while I grab
at my jacket and bag of sewing essentials I left back here. I lift my favorite dress from the rail and then
we move. Not waiting around to face the aftermath because I never intend to come back here.
I must look pale and in shock, because he doesn’t argue, he doesn’t say anything. He lifts a few more
of my more elaborate dresses, flings them over his arm and follows me silently as I lead the way with
sheer determination. Thanking him inwardly for just going with me without a fuss. He knows me well
enough to know when something is wrong.
Once it gets out that I assaulted Claude Trevaunt then my life and career In Paris is over, maybe my
career in general. This is a fickle industry and you do not knee the big boys in the balls, even if they just
tried to sexually assault you in the hallway.
“I need to go home.” I breathily fling at Christian and I guess my manner tells him not to argue and
follow as we head for the main doors and freedom.
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