Chapter 49: filler
It was a well-known tactic in the industry, one that many experienced agencies used to put arrogant artists back in their place. You build them up, you let them and everyone around them believe they are untouchable, and then when they fall, they fall hard. The drop from that height was always much more devastating than any direct attack. Since Amara wanted so badly to sit at the top, we would let her climb as high as she liked. Iris had already made plenty of enemies on her behalf without even realizing it.
Of course, Iris’s real motive behind all the hype was control. She wanted Amara convinced that Xova was the only reason she had made it this far, a quiet warning that once the fame settled in, leaving the company should never cross her mind.
"Iris has really poured everything into Amara," Nicole muttered. "Too bad Amara’s actual ability cannot keep up with all the hype being built around her."
"Whether it can or cannot, we will know after the shoot," I said simply. My expression remained the same as it always did when Caspian was not around, calm, unreadable, a steady mask that gave nothing away. I had worn that expression for years in this industry, and it had served me well against all the performance and pretense surrounding me.
We arrived at Secret’s headquarters shortly after. I was shown to the waiting room the magazine had prepared, which, unsurprisingly, I would be sharing with Amara.
Secret’s fashion stylist wasted no time. She took my measurements efficiently, pausing to comment warmly on my legs before reaching for a garment on the rack. She held out a traditional Chinese dress in soft, pale tones. "With your presence and your personality, I think lighter colors suit you best."
I smiled at her and said nothing. I had no particular objection to her suggestion, but I also had my own thoughts about what today needed to look like. For now, I simply let her work.
Nicole, never one to hold her tongue for long, looked at the stylist and jumped in without missing a beat. "Our Valerie can work with anything you put on her. She is not picky at all."
Before the stylist could respond, the door opened and Amara walked in with her assistant close behind. The moment she spotted me sitting in front of the mirror, she crossed the room with purpose, her expression tight with barely concealed arrogance. Without a word, she reached over and plucked the lipstick right out of my hand. "You must be so used to being a substitute with no say in what you wear that you have completely forgotten how to have standards," she said, then turned and walked over to the clothing rack as if I had already ceased to exist.
She ran her finger along the rack and pointed out several pieces to the designer. "I want to try all of these." Amara did know how to dress herself well, that much was true. She understood her body and knew exactly what complemented it.
I, on the other hand, had never made a habit of being selective about clothing, and not because I lacked taste. It was because I believed a model’s job was to present whatever she was given, not to seek out only what already flattered her. Fashion shows did not pause to check whether a garment suited a particular model perfectly before sending her down the runway. You wore what you were handed, and you made it work, regardless of whether it was tailored for you or not. That understanding had shaped the way I worked, and over time it had given me a range that most models never developed.
Amara’s assistant decided to add her own commentary. "Our Amara is not some outdated model. In this profession, clothing choices are serious business. How can anyone be so casual about it?"
I looked at the assistant calmly. "No matter what a mistress wears, is it not all just the emperor’s new clothes? In the eyes of the men around her, she is always undressed regardless. What exactly is the point of being so careful about the selection?"
"You..."
"Amara, do not let her upset you, it is not good for your health," the assistant said quickly, redirecting her attention. "The interview is about to start. Let us go and get ready."
I turned quietly to Quinn and Nicole. "We should head out too," I said under my breath.
The interview was set for nine in the morning and it was already twenty minutes to. Since it was being streamed live, Liam pulled us both aside beforehand for what he clearly considered a necessary warning. "Think carefully before you speak. I am sure you both understand what is and is not appropriate to say. Especially you, Valerie. This is going live. If you stir up any controversy, the fallout will be difficult to contain, and I do not see how that helps either of you."
"On the subject of sharing a stage, prepare a proper answer and keep the focus on the front cover," he added.
Amara slipped her arm through his and leaned against him with a satisfied smile. "No need to worry about me, Liam. I am just not certain that everyone here has good intentions."
"I will do my best," I said simply.
Liam looked at me for a moment longer than necessary. My calmness unsettled him, I could tell. The quieter I was, the more convinced he became that something was running beneath the surface. He wanted to know what I was thinking, but my face gave him nothing.
Amara tugged at his arm, pulling his gaze away from me. He gave me one last look before they moved toward the door, the kind of look that was meant to be a warning. If I behaved today, he told himself, perhaps when Amara’s comeback was complete, he would consider giving me an opportunity.
The three of us entered the interview room, but only Amara and I took the seats in front of the cameras. Liam positioned himself quietly among the reporters, close enough to step in and manage things if I made any misstep.
But today, I had no intention of playing the game the way any of them expected.
Comments