Stiletto Sisterhood

Original Edition: Eshe | I can't

"I thought you said we were here to talk business after the premier," she whispered in a rare moment of silence fell around them as the doors to the elevator clicked shut.

"We are," Cait said, flouncing her fingers through her freshly dyed pixie cut; the strands translucent silver with a subtle hint of lavender to complement the pale golden notes of skin.

"How did they all know my name?"

"Because of the tight timelines and constraints, Vogue issued a press release three days ago announcing Iona's departure from the campaign. Thea's done her best to put a cap on the rest, but as you can imagine—paparazzi have eyes and ears everywhere. It's all good. You're practically a celebrity now, so enjoy it, doll. You've earned it."

She wasn't given a moment to find her voice when the doors parted and both she and Cait were whisked out by a pair of attendants eager to send the elevator back down for the next batch of guests. Even with the full bank of six at their disposal, she imagined it was going to take at least a solid thirty minutes to see all four hundred to the rooftop.

At this height, Paris, the city of lights, was on display in her full glory against the deepening blue backdrop of an evening sky. Music hummed and pulsed from inside the white tents that glowed in alternating shades of blue, purple and red almost in time with the beat. Servers circled holding gleaming trays of champagne or salivating hors d'oeuvres, but all of it made her stomach turn.

"And who is Tate Voss?"

"Hm?"

"Tate Voss," Eshe repeated the name slowly, enunciating each syllable with restrained patience. "One of the reporters' thrust his mic in my face mentioned her name."

A giddy kind of flush glowed in Cait's cheeks. "I was hoping to surprise you."

Eshe tightened her grip on her clutch. "What's going ?"

"I can't wait for you to see it."

"See what?"

"Come." Taking Eshe's hand, Cait sped off through the maze of bodies and booze, leaving Eshe no choice but to almost jog in her heels to keep up. Inside the largest of the three connected tents, the space was decorated with black lacquered tables running in long rectangles. Floral centerpieces dripping with crystals and scattered with lights dangled from the beams in a staggered arrangements.

A stage commanded the front with curtain's open, but it was a large black and white image printed onto a sheet of glass at the back and up-lit that stole her breath.

Her face. Her face. From the photo shoot. The world that had been fiercely spinning around her all night jerked to an arresting halt, slamming her hard and fast into a state of inertia.

Lungs on fire, Eshe pressed a fisted hand to her belly and willed the stone of her abdomen to move so she could suck in a breath. "I thought...you said they weren't ready. You said..."

"I know, I know. I didn't want you seeing the pictures before tonight. It wouldn't have had the same effect. Isn't it gorgeous?" Cait bounced.

It was. And yet...it wasn't. Beautiful, but terrifying.

"Ermigawd," Cait hissed through clenched teeth, fingers circling tight around Eshe's wrist. "It's Daniel Sharman. The guy who is rumored to portray Hardin Scott and—I can't even." Chin raised, she was the picture of confident elegance as she flashed a smile in his direction. A smile that was quickly reciprocated. "Let's go over and introduce ourselves."

"No." Eshe planted her feet when Cait tried to drag her along. Despite her tiny five-two, she could plough through anything and anyone. "I'll wait here."