The missed calls had doubled by the time I got back to my suite. I instantly kicked off the shoes to the corner of my bed and crashed my bottom onto the mattress, relishing the freedom of my toes.
I vowed that was the last time I was letting anyone coaxed me into buying thin heels, no matter how pretty.
It wasn't.
After a minute, I proceeded to press the dial and braced myself for shouting.
"Finally!" bellowed the voice on the other end.
"Hey."
" I called you like, five times!"
"I know."
"You just suddenly disappear and Liam comes telling me you're skiving and went down a rabbit hole or some bull like that."
"Yeah, you see—
" Shut up, Stevie. I am not done ranting! "
I obliged and sealed my lips.
"You don't even bother to come tell me anything, Liam says you said you'd come back and I'm waiting and you don't! Where are you?"
"Am I allowed to speak now?"
"Stevie."
"I'm at my suite."
"Explain yourself."
I envisioned how the scenario would go if I told her I'd escorted a superstitious French fashion designer as a spirit guide for her job and aimed to use lawfully frowned upon means to do it.
I considered it but really wasn't looking for a long phone conversation.
"I got sent to the headmaster's office. A family friend called reception and needed me for something. It was on short notice, so I didn't even know the details until she picked me up and then I forgot I left my phone on silent. Sorry for worrying you."
"That's it?"
"Yup."
There was a long breath from Ashton. "God, Liam totally overreacted then. That guy, honestly..."
"You know he means well, Ash."
"Yeah but he made it sound like such a big deal. It had me kinda worried."
"Sorry. Oh, how were the notes anyway? Were they helpful?"
"Yeah, spot on actually. I would've thought you took a time machine to the future."
A grin found its way onto my lips. "Really? Great."
"I seriously don't get how you did that. I mean..."
Ashton's voice strained when I caught my reflection from the mirror and couldn't help but stare. I really did seem like another person. I lifted off the 'camouflage', bangs free to drape over my forehead now there was no hairband restraining them.
In spite of Ms. Dion's crude remarks, I still felt most comfortable with them down. The earrings, I didn't mind. Their pearly gleam just as captivating as the first time I'd seen it on me.
I grouped my hair up to have an undisrupted view. I quite liked it too. I still had the clasps and pins lying around— what would it be like with those applied?
"Stevie, are you listening?"
I released my grasp, letting my hair fall back down to my back. "Sorry, what did you say?"
"You remember Duncan Kress right?"
"Yeah, Liam's mate from psych class."
"He's having a party tonight."
The mirror reflected the frown that formed on my lips. Involuntarily, I noted even unhappy expressions didn't dampen the glow.
Parties were fun and if they weren't, they were at least tolerable. The ones including Ashton and Liam's other friends was pushing it to the limits. There was nothing wrong with any of them but I just couldn't click with them. The differ in interests were too wide and they saw me as some sort of alien. I'd drive myself to fall into their pace as to make things less awkward, try not to say anything too 'geeky', not be too loud or too quiet. Overly optimistic or too remote but no matter how much I tried, I knew deep down none of them would talk to me if it weren't for those two.
"I'm not sure I'm up for that tonight..."
"Why not? It'll be fun. Caitlin and Diana are coming too so we can ride with them instead of Liam 'borrowing' one of his dad's."
Caitlin and Diana were the worst. Either they were very bad actors or simply couldn't be bothered pretending to be friendly. "I'll think about it."
"Okay. See you later then."
"Okay."
The call ended.
I stared down at the phone, already more than one hundred percent certain I wasn't going. My gaze switched back to my reflection.
My face was up close to the mirror, twirling, braiding, bunching and mounting my hair. I'd stared at each curve and mold that made my visage until I was numb to the reality that it was really me I was seeing. Like some sort of intoxication.
I took a few steps back and inspected my whole body. The last vivid depiction I had of it was around the age of six, dressed in black and in pigtails for grandpa's funeral. I didn't get why it was necessary to look so presentable for a dead man. Maybe to cover up how miserable you felt inside at their passing.
This time, I felt pretty on the outside just as much as the inside. I felt great.
I wondered if this feeling would be gone by morning. If I'd go back to quickly dismissing my appearance after brief seconds of looking and go on with my day.
Fearing that, an idea spurred to mind. I picked up my phone and set it on camera, carefully angling it to fit me all in frame and I hit the icon to capture. In concerns that this high was temporal, I didn't want to forget it. I didn't want to forget this feeling.
I smiled at the picture momently and texted Ashton that I wasn't attending the party then lay back in my bed, basking in content of me.
**
From the tired look on uncle Louie's face at dinner, I guessed the visit to my folks wasn't successful. In case I misinterpreted, I checked his bank account. Still no recent large withdrawals.
I turned down the offer to watch the movie sequel about the tap dancing penguins and called it in early. I didn't do much sleeping, however as my mind was utterly restless at what I was meant to do.
Dad was too stubborn to reason with. What were my other options? Nothing, nothing nothing. There seemed to be virtually nothing but I wasn't giving in. There had to be a way. Any way.
Morning came all too quickly and I came to meet that girl from yesterday still standing in my bathroom mirror when I came out of the tub. It took me twice the regular time to dress as I played around with the clasps, the pins and any other accessory I owned to shape my hair. Simply leaving it down or a ponytail just wasn't doing justice.
I scoped the time and gawked to find it was a quarter to eight. Usually, I'd be meeting Ash on my walk by then. I sighed, leaning my hands on my dresser and exhaled a breath. "What are you doing...?" I asked, partly hopeful the girl staring back could supply an answer.
Instead, there was a knock on my door. I pulled the handle and was greeted by Ms. Dion. Her body framed in a flowy jumpsuit that made her already statute legs seem twice as long, accompanying a waistcoat over the revealing cleavage.
Not that I was staring.
It was her radiant smile that had me swooned. "Just woke up?" She questioned, regarding my tousled locks.
"Um, sort of."
"Then you haven't ordered room service?"
"No. Why?"
"Thought it'd be nice to have breakfast together at the hall. Oh, or will you be heading to school soon?"
"No, school doesn't start for another hour," I lied.
I quickly put on my uniform and settled to arrange my hair in a plain old ponytail. I was unsatisfied but if I sat down at that mirror again, I feared it'd be a new season by the time I glanced away.
Since uncle Louie was normally a late riser, I preferred eating a breakfast alone in the comfort of my suite so I never had any reason to make an appearance at the hotel dining hall.
It was an interesting change. I'd forgotten how nice bacon and eggs were with company.
I could tell it was also an irregular option for Ms. Dion by the numerous glances from men in neighbouring tables, mesmerised. It was understandable since she was an enchanting beauty. I found it especially entertaining when she rummaged through our customary basket of bread to make sure every loaf was facing upwards. Apparently, bread faced down was unlucky.
I would've preferred listening to the origin stories of her superstitious belief over all my morning classes.
"So, when does Beswick's project officially start?" I asked.
"Four days from now, I believe."
"Four? That's pretty soon."
"Mmhmm." concurred Ms. Dion with no strain in her light hum as she bit into her poached eggs.
Truthfully, I'd anticipated that she'd came to my door with news that she'd been enlisted. From the struck look on Beswick yesterday, I thought he would've immediately taken action. An affair scandal may not be big enough to tear his career to pieces but his public image would definitely be taking a large hit. Didn't that bother him?
Or perhaps I overestimated him. Maybe his pride mattered more than anything else. If that was the case, I was out of moves. "You seem pretty calm," I started.
Ms. Dion batted her light lashes. "Pardon?"
"Not that it's bad to stay optimistic but, the deadline's so close, you haven't gotten any sort of notice and the exhibition was your best chance right?"
Ms. Dion took a moment to chew. "Well, technically yes but as long as it's not over, I've got opportunities. Besides, there's no guarantee he isn't making any plans. It's too soon to be doubtful."
I refrained from saying I disagreed. From where I stood, the possibilities were looking less than thin and I couldn't be sure if my brash move had hindered that. However, I enjoyed seeing the eccentric French woman looking the closest thing from peaceful from what I could guess was a long time.
All at once, a ringing noise emitted from her handbag. She grabbed the smartphone and peered to the caller. "Well, speak of the devil..."
I straightened up at that, eyes intently watching her answer the phone. A glimmer in her expression while she listened silently to the speaker on the line.
"What is it?" I tried not to sound too eager as I asked.
"Beswick. He wants me to come see him right away."
Here it was. The response. Except, would it be my checkmate or something else entirely?
I requested to come along and Ms. Dion gladly accepted. Vincent had the car pulled up in front of the hotel grounds all in good time. I retained a neutral expression on the surface while I ransacked every possible intentions on this summoning during the drive.
For a building centred on purely articles related to the current fashion trends, Stellar Magazine had enough floors to have one thinking there was some sort of secret service unit transpiring. Sadly, there was no time to explore the theory as I stepped into the spacious elevator with Ms. Dion set on a destination straight to the top.
A woman with an endless curtain of black curls and catlike eyes sat by a desk, The Stellar logo anchored on the wall behind her. She hardly took in our presence and trained her gaze on the computer in front. "Beswick is inside. Just knock."
We assumed it was the office door by the right as there was nothing else on the floor besides the potted plants and chandelier.
"Alright." Ms. Dion fastened her hold on her handbag. Her fingers had barely shaken today. "Excuse me, darling," she started to the nonchalant secretary. "Would you mind watching her for me?"
It took a second to realise that her was in reference to me. Dumbly, I thought I'd be following her in but of course that wouldn't be appropriate, even if I wanted to protest. The secretary nodded without a glance and Ms. Dion went forth.
I could only steal a glimpse of a figure inside before the door shut after her and I so badly wished I had super hearing or at the least, X ray vision. No such conveniences and not even a chair to perch on, I was stuck leaning against the walls in wait.
A wait that came to be short when the oakwood door soon edged open again, surprising me and escalating my anxiousness as Ms. Dion approached.
"Well?"
She broke into a wide smile. "I told you that you were my spirit guide."
"He's enlisting you?"
Ms. Dion nodded and I felt something swell up inside me.
"Although he actually asked about you," added Ms. Dion. My brows hiked but the last thing was it being out of surprise. "I told him you came with me and he said he wanted a quick word."
I pulled my best clueless look. "Word? With me?"
"Yes, I'm not sure why either but just go so I can drop you off to school. And don't worry, he doesn't bite."
I nodded, purposely pacing my steps as to appear apprehensive at the summoning. Although I did feel a little bit on edge.
The air that hung in the office that was larger than Ms. Shepherd's was tense.
Beswick stood by a large window framing the buildings surrounding. The rays of the sun highlighted the sharp curves of his tanned upturned cheekbones but the glint in his calculative stare was spurred by something else entirely.
"You go to St. Sinclair." He noted from the embroidered initials on my blazer. "Interesting. If I remember correctly, that school was in the papers not too long ago about a student faking paralysis to scam funds and sponsors. Is that place breeding criminals these days?"
"I'm not a criminal."
"You're blackmailing me. That is illegal — therefore a crime."
"Why am I here?"
"I've chosen your 'aunt' to be one of the designers for my upcoming project."
"I heard,” I answered.
"Delete the messages."
"No."
"No?"
"I can't be too sure that if I do it now, you'll randomly change your mind and boot Ms. Dion when the evidence is erased."
He elicited a scoff, eyes averted as he tenderly stroking the tip of his fingers along his stubble. "Fair enough but I'm a man of my word."
"Don't care. I'm not deleting it until the project ends." I folded my arms.
The darkness in Beswicks's glower looked downright murderous, rendering a shiver at the slight panic he would strangle me right there. Instead, he sighed. "Very well then."
I suppressed a smile, my legs more than ready to exit the premise and hopefully, not have to see the prick for a long time to come.
"Did I say you could go?"
My hand froze only inches from the door handle. I peered to the man who sat by the edge of his desk, one leg thrown over the other. The look he was giving me was what really had my body itching to jet.
However, I rooted my feet. "Well what else is there?"
"Tell me what you're getting out of this."
"What?"
"Helping Maddie. I've had someone look into all her relations— none of them connects to you. You have no bond with her so what are you getting out of this? It's not for future prospects, you clearly don't have any interest in the fashion business." He swept over my appearance. "What's your motivation?"
"What does it matter what my motivation is?"
"It matters…” He made slow footfalls advancing to me. "Because when some little shit is trying to take a bite at me, I want to know what they think is worth me coming after them."
I held his slitgaze. They weren't reverberating with that hostility like the other day. There was another element behind this interrogation. "None of your business."
Beswick remained undeterred despite my defiance and I was confident he wasn't a man willing to go to drastic lengths to force out an answer.
"Your parents own a bakery in the lower class districts."
My stomach dropped.
"Berkley's— odd name. Is it inherited?"
"What does that have to do with anything?" My voice failed to remain civil but I couldn't prevent it. That was the one thing I didn't want to hear right now.
Even hearing the name from his lips repulsed me.
I was sure he was getting a kick out of rattling me, he was only pulling on a stoic pretense. "The payments they owed the bank... I cleared them."
I did a double take.
"You did what?" Perhaps my rattled state was hindering my hearing and caused a mix up.
"I took care of the payments." More nonsensical words were spoken. "As of last night, they're out of debt. Here's the records if you don't believe me."
He retrieved a sheet from his table and handed it to me. In disbelief, my eyes read the fine prints where my father's name was written, the bakery credentials and the fee. Unbelievable. What I was seeing was unbelievable. Even more so when I read the string of zeroes on the amount. There was no way they owed that much.
"Of course, I had to pay a little more to persuade the bank to tell your father they're only expanding the deadline to an undetermined time so he won't go wondering what happened. I couldn't let my involvement be known. If he was open to handouts, he would've reached out to his brother who owns that five star hotel you’re currently staying at. The reason that hasn’t happened is because of your father. Correct?"
I moistened my dry throat with a large gulp. Eyes darting to the man in front of me then back down to the paper. "What... How... Why on earth would you do that?"
Many, many things the rich did confused me, especially since meeting Adler. Though, there was no understanding helping someone who was blackmailing you.
"I'm investing."
"Investing?" I echoed.
"I'm saving your family from well... greater poverty. So you are obliged to be indebted to me. You owe me."
I frowned deeply.
"It might be a week from now, or a month— maybe even a year but I will contact you and when I do, whatever I say, no matter what it is, you will do it. At any cost."
Silence ensued.
His laser sharp gaze on my reaction prickled at my skin and my body stiffened, not wanting to budge a single muscle to please his anticipations. This guy was more despicable than I thought.
I spat out a scoff. "At any cost— what is that even meant to mean? Jesus, does all of the fashion industry operate like the mafia or something?"
"If they want to stay on top, yes. So do we have a deal?"
"What deal? I'm not getting any options."
Beswick, the self acclaimed mob boss dropped a hand to his desk phone. "I ordered the bank to relay the update to your father by nine. I can call to revert the transaction and that paper in your hands will become worthless. You won't owe me anything and you can walk out of here, getting off on the self satisfaction of having a person in high power wrapped around your little finger."
I bit my lip and there was that glint in Beswick's gaze again. "That's what the motivation is, isn't? I've met freaks like you before. One was more than enough for my liking. The name people in my business call them is Viragos."
I said nothing.
Not out of stun or confusion, but in silent concurrence. I couldn't even muster a resilience to deny it. This wasn't resent or about morals. It was a high. An unmistakable high at the ironic feeling of a little 'insignificant' nothing like me surmounting so-called powerful people like him. It felt so uplifting.
"Now you can keep all that," Beswick continued. "And still help your loved ones. Two birds, one stone."
"And be a puppet in the likely future."
Beswick shrugged. "I won't disagree but a bright kid like you, knows better than a prick, backstabber and adulterer like me right?" He raised the phone, urging me on.
I glared but dropped my eyes to the paper in my hands and thought of dad, mum, Billie, Edna and everybody back home. Taking a large breath, I answered. "Deal."
**
When I exited the office, Ms. Dion badgered me on what on earth we were discussing in there. I claimed Beswick was merely passing on a message on Mr. Goy-Smith's behalf about the plans to join his family for dinner. She easily bought it and I spent the drive to the academy with my head rested on the glass, hoping my decision wouldn't come back to haunt me in an unforeseen future and one word on my lips.
Virago.
A smirk grew on my face at the mention only in whisper. I quite liked the sound of it.