Ask Me (Mess with Me 2)

His mouth falls open slightly before he chokes out a surprised laugh. “Good to know. I was wondering if I had bad breath or something.”

At least he’s got a sense of humor. He’s leagues ahead of where I was when I started. I spent far too many years caring about what the people in this room thought of me.

“When you call my office, tell them to put you on the new designers list. You’ll get scheduled faster that way.”

Every few months, I make it a point to reach out to newer designers. They can ask questions or simply get my opinion on something they’re working on. Mentorship is something I feel strongly about and it benefits me, too. Seeing what the next generation in fashion is doing keeps me fresh and challenges me not to get complacent.

“Thank you, sir.” He pumps my hand enthusiastically and despite my general dislike of interviews, I make a mental note to save something special to show him when we meet again.

I remember all too well what it’s like to be just starting out and hungry for someone, anyone, to give you a chance.

Walking faster now, I pause briefly to compliment an old friend on the dress his model is wearing. The double doors leading to the balcony loom ahead and I let out a sigh of relief as I reach for the handle.

“Andre. Where are you going, mio figlio?”

And… denied.

“Evening, mother.” My hand drops from the handle of the doors as I turn around.

My mother narrows her eyes slightly as she looks between me and the doors. “You weren’t leaving already, were you? I’ve told you, networking is so important. Now more than ever.”

“Of course. I was only going to get some air. It can get quite stifling at these events.”

She waves that away with an impatient hand. “No time for that now. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

It’s effort to hold in a long-suffering sigh but I follow behind dutifully as she leads me toward the center of the room. Fashion designer wasn’t exactly her first choice of career for her eldest son but she has invested large amounts of the money she inherited from her parents into my business. Making nice with her friends is the least I can do. I’ll just say hello and then make my escape.

“Here he is!” My mother pauses next to a group of people and I struggle to arrange my face into something resembling interest.

“Andre, this is Mr. Gabriel Knight and his wife, Hannah.” My mother turns to a young blonde woman standing right behind them. “And this is their lovely daughter, Elisabetta.”

The young woman steps forward and when she sees me the look of boredom on her face vanishes instantly. She tucks a stray curl behind her ear nervously. “Oh hello! It’s so nice to meet you. Your mother has told us so much about you. I feel like we’re old friends already!”

My mother moves so that Elisabetta can step closer. When our eyes meet, my mother shrugs innocently.

Escape isn’t going to come easily.

By the time I get away, it’s an hour later and I’m wishing the feathers around my neck could actually fly me away. I finally gave up all semblance of civility and just walked away from Elisabetta mid-sentence. I’m not the most patient man even on a good day and right now I need some air. Her fake laugh and cloying perfume gave me a headache.

When I finally push my way through the crowd to reach the balcony doors, the humid air slaps me in the face. I’m probably going to regret my choice of attire tonight, tuxedos and humidity don’t mix, but I’m too happy to escape the horde inside to care. Hell, I’d rather sweat out here alone than be comfortable in the air conditioning in the midst of vultures.

But as I step closer to the railing, I become aware that I’m not alone. My mood plummets until I recognize the man hiding in the shadows. His dark hair, the exact same shade as mine, is tousled and there’s an unlit cigarette clamped between his lips.

“You’re hiding out too, I see.”

My younger brother, Philippe, straightens slightly and flashes a tight smile. “Mamma is driving me crazy. I had to make up an excuse to get away.” He takes the cigarette from between his teeth. “I don’t even smoke.”

We both chuckle at that. I’m not surprised he’s willing to feign nicotine addiction. It’s actually rather brilliant. Maybe I should come up with a convenient excuse for why I need to step outside often.

That could turn out to be quite useful considering my mother’s current mission to shove every woman she knows of childbearing age in my direction. I hadn’t realized Philippe was getting the same treatment.

“At least you found somewhere to hide. I got caught and just spent the last hour talking to a woman who has no further ambition in life than wearing more expensive shoes than her friends.”

Suddenly it all comes down on me at once and I am tired. I feel like a piece of fabric that has been stretched until it’s frayed and thin. And I’m starting to not even recognize myself.

“Do you ever get tired of this?” I gesture around us. “Tired of the fake people, the gossip, the drama?”

He shrugs. “Of course. But what can you do? This is part of our world and always has been. Remember when Papa was alive and he would throw those parties?”