Chapter 4: Game On, Bitch
I kicked off my slippers and sank into my couch, pulling my laptop closer. Vivienne's face appeared on screen, red lipstick still perfect despite it being past midnight in London.
"Okay, spill. Everything." She leaned back in her office chair. "And don't you dare skip the juicy parts about your mystery man."
I laughed, but it came out bitter. "Yeah, about that..." I curled my legs under me. "Enzo's not actually my boyfriend."
Her eyebrows shot up. "Sorry, what now?"
"He's my new creative director. I hired him three months ago." I ran my fingers through my hair. "The whole boyfriend thing? Totally made that up on the spot."
"So you basically found a hot designer to be your fake boyfriend?" Vivienne's grin was pure evil. "Girl, that's either genius or you're gonna catch feelings."
"Not happening. I don't mess around with employees." I shook my head. "Makes everything weird."
"Fair enough. Just saying, that Italian charm is dangerous."
My phone buzzed. Instagram notification.
"Uh, that's random." I stared at the screen. "Scarlett Jones wants to message me."
"The wannabe? What does she want?"
I accepted the request without thinking. A message popped up immediately: "Hey girl!"
I sent back a wave emoji, keeping it simple.
"She's up to something," Vivienne said, narrowing her eyes.
Another buzz. This time, a video.
The footage was dark and grainy. Sebastian, shirtless, snoring like a freight train. The camera shook slightly - whoever was filming was clearly in bed with him.
My stomach dropped. What the actual hell?
The message underneath made it worse: "OMG Sebastian snores so loud! Did he always do this with you? And he's so clingy in bed, always trying to cuddle when it's like 80 degrees! Men, am I right? 🙄"
I screenshot everything and fired it off to Vivienne.
"Is this bitch serious right now?" came her instant reply.
"I'm blocking her," I said, finger hovering over the button.
"Don't!" Vivienne's voice was sharp. "Don't give her what she wants. Keep her around - let's see what other crazy shit she pulls."
I took a deep breath. "You know what's funny? When I saw them together tonight, yeah, it stung a little. But this?" I gestured at my phone. "I'm actually grateful she's showing me who Sebastian really is."
"Damn, look at you being all zen about it."
"Not worth the energy."
Over the next few days, Scarlett's Instagram became a non-stop Sebastian show. The weird part? All her stories were set to only be visible to me.
She's literally obsessed with getting a reaction from me. How sad is that?
I muted her and got back to work.
Two weeks later, Enzo officially joined Maison Montclair as creative director. We were launching a new line called "Urban Renaissance," and I pushed hard to get him the lead designer spot.
"This concept board is insane," he said, spreading sketches across my desk. His whole face lit up. "It's not gonna be mainstream, but that's what makes it exciting."
"Good. Nail this, and you'll be set in the industry."
Watching him get fired up about design? That's the kind of energy I've been missing around here.
A month before Fashion Week, my assistant walked into my office looking like she'd rather be anywhere else.
"We have a problem," she said. "That top model we booked? She got replaced."
I looked up from my laptop. "Replaced by who?"
"Sebastian Cross called personally. He wants Scarlett Jones as the opening model."
My jaw clenched. "Scarlett doesn't fit our vibe at all."
"He specifically asked for opening, and apparently some big fashion blogs are already planning coverage..."
Oh, you've gotta be kidding me. This is Sebastian's revenge? Using his Vogue connections to screw with my launch?
The reality hit me. Sebastian had already worked his magic behind the scenes. Fighting this meant risking the whole show.
"Fine." The word tasted like poison. "Tell him he's covering the cancellation fees too."
Feels like swallowing glass, but I need this launch to work.
The next two months flew by. Enzo basically lived at the studio while I handled all the media stuff. We mostly communicated through quick texts and coffee runs.
Then he slid into my DMs: "Isabella, wanna come check out the studio? Could really use your eyes on some pieces 🥺"
"Been meaning to swing by anyway. I'll stop by this week."
"Really?! That's amazing! 😍"
He gets so excited about the smallest things. It's actually pretty cute.
Word on the street was that Sebastian had been showing up to Scarlett's fittings, playing mentor. Well, if she got backup, my designer deserved some too.
The day I visited, Enzo was hunched over a jacket, hand-stitching some intricate detail. His sleeves were rolled up, hair a little messy from concentration. This focused version of him was different - more intense, more... appealing.
When he spotted me, he practically bounced over.
"Isabella! You came!" He was like a puppy who'd been waiting by the door all day.
I checked out his work, giving his shoulder a squeeze and smoothing down his unruly hair without thinking about it.
Why do I keep wanting to take care of him? It's like he brings out this protective side I didn't know I had.
Right as I was admiring his latest piece, the Vogue crew showed up for their shoot. During the interview portion, Scarlett turned on that sugar-sweet voice.
"Enzo's super talented," she gushed to the editor. "Gets along with everyone. Our director even made a special trip to support him today." She paused, letting that sink in. "I heard Isabella personally recruited him. He must have some really special qualities for her to invest in him like this."
That's shameless. This from the girl who's literally here because her boyfriend pulled strings?
The editor turned to Enzo. "So how's it been working with Scarlett?"
Enzo's smile could've powered Times Square. "Oh wow, Scarlett's incredible! She's got this amazing system for poses. Her assistant holds up reference photos, and she just copies the exact same expression and angle every time. Total genius! No guesswork, totally consistent results. I never would've thought of that approach. Makes me feel kinda amateur, you know?"
Scarlett's eye twitched, but she kept smiling. The photographer was clearly trying not to laugh.
Oh my, Enzo, you little devil. That innocent delivery with the savage subtext? Chef's kiss.
"I just want the clothes to look good," Scarlett managed.
"Totally!" Enzo nodded enthusiastically. "I'm way too much of a perfectionist about capturing the garment's soul and all that artsy stuff. You're so smart to keep it simple. Plus you've got Sebastian calling during breaks to help with poses - that's so sweet! I'm honestly jealous of that kind of support..." He covered his mouth like he'd just realized something. "Oh wait, should I not mention the behind-the-scenes stuff?"
Scarlett's face went completely livid.
A few days later, I was at some charity thing when Sebastian cornered me by the bar.
"Your Italian boy needs some lessons in professional behavior," he said, not bothering with small talk.
And here we go. Of course this is about the shoot.