Freak In You (18+)

1| I Might Not Be A Princess

♱Recommended Song: Redbone by Childish Gambino♱

Safe to say I had every little girl's dream job.

Traveling to different cities just to be dressed in designer fabrics that you walk down a runway in. I might not be a princess but I was certainly treated like one.

This week's destination was Milan due to fashion week—an overrated fashion event that takes up one week of your calendar in late September.

Ironically enough, while everyone was running around like the earth was on fucking fire—my main job was to remain seated in the chair while my makeup and hair artist did their jobs.

Genuinely, the only downfall to my job was the early mornings and the eating disorder I suffer from.

The model world is shallower than a blow-up kiddie pool, so you better have the looks—or at least have the funds to buy them, and then on top of that a killer body.

Luckily, I checked the first requirement off with my lucky genetics, but the second one was only maintained by a strict diet and somehow growing accustomed to the pang of hunger that settled in my stomach at all times of the day.

But hey, look at where I am now.

One of the most sought-after models and I'm only twenty-two.

"That seems to cover tomorrow's agenda," the brunette woman said, remaining seated at the dining table of my penthouse as she clicked through her laptop for any itinerary updates.

I nodded as I sipped my water, which seemed to feel like my hundredth glass today.

"And we're not beginning hair and makeup until ten?" I questioned, knowing that I was definitely going to go out tonight.

The woman narrowed her emerald eyes, "Yes—but don't do too much, Lundy," my agent said, which was code for, Don't make me clean up your fuck-up again.

Truthfully, I couldn't control what I got into when I went out.

All I knew was that there was this unsatisfying feeling buried in my stomach, and I could never seem to fulfill it.

And trust me, I've tried it all.

Right now, I've just been hooking up with beautiful women, concluding that the feeling dims slightly once I've had a one-night stand.

The odd thing about it is I can't find myself getting remotely attached to anyone—which is also why I've never been in a relationship.

And my first fuck-up was repeating a one-night stand with one of the women on numerous occasions, leaving quite a mess for Lana—my agent—to clean up.

"I won't hook up with the same woman if that's what you're insinuating," I said, smirking slightly as I took a long sip of my water.

Lana laughed, "That's exactly what I'm insinuating," she deadpanned, shaking her head to herself.

I shrugged, "I learned my lesson from the last one, trust me," I emphasized, recalling how badly the woman was obsessed with me.

Lana closed her laptop and stood from her chair, "Do whatever you want, just don't be late tomor—"

But she was quickly cut off when two men covered from head to toe in black—swung into the windows on ropes, shattering the glass completely.

I didn't even have time to process Lana's horrified expression—Instead, I went straight into fight mode, sliding down onto my knees toward one of the masked men.