“Well, I can’t sit around all the time. Just how Dante can’t work all the time.”
I could retire if I wanted to, but I loved my work too much. I supposed it was hypocritical of me to challenge her like that. “So you still like the stables?”
“Yeah. Marco said I’m still not ready to ride…I’m not sure if I’ll ever be.”
I told him she wasn’t allowed because it was too dangerous. So he made up excuses for me. “Why do you want to ride so much?”
“Why?” she asked incredulously. “Lots of people love to ride horses. It’s a great hobby.”
“It’s a lot of work and can be dangerous.”
“But if you’re always careful, it should be fine.”
There was no point in arguing with her. She was stubborn—just like me.
We drove into Milan and arrived at the building I owned. It had once been a historical landmark, and I bought it before they had the chance to tear it down. I never did any reconstruction to the outside because I loved the architecture, but the inside had been redone to fit my needs.
Muse and I walked inside.
The models were located on the second floor, where they had a private gym, their wardrobe, and workout classes. It also held the changing room and the studio where photos were taken.
We took the stairs and spotted a few girls dressed in the lingerie I’d released for the show a few weeks ago.
“Conway.” Veronica had one hand on her hip and walked up to me with her heels clapping against the hardwood floor. The teal fabric looked great on her dark skin. Her belly button was pierced, a bright jewel shining. “Long time, no see.” She leaned into me, grabbed me by the bicep, and pressed a kiss to my cheek.
“Veronica, you look beautiful.” I kissed her on the cheek in reciprocation.
Juliet came up to me and did the same, a blonde in black lingerie. “Everyone is loving your designs. Are you working on your next release?”
“Actually, yes. I’m sure you’ll be impressed.” I turned to the stairs to move to the third floor.
Muse faltered for a moment before she followed me.
The girls were warm to me, but they gave her looks of pure loathing.
I knew exactly how women were, so I kept walking up the stairs. Nicole told me about all the fights that she broke up between the models, the envy the women had for each other. They usually didn’t turn physical, but they still played dirty. They would cut off large chunks of hair when a girl’s back was turned, or they would sprinkle bulk powder in their smoothies to make them gain weight.
I had more important things to do, so I ignored it.
Muse trailed behind me then reached my side once we were on the third floor. She was quiet, brooding, and hostile, and her disappointment was heavy in the air around me.
I ignored it and stepped inside the studio. Everything had been organized by Nicole, who was the only person allowed to touch my things. She was the only person who knew exactly how I liked to keep my materials. She made sure nothing was lost or misplaced.
I flicked on the lights and peeled off my jacket. The sun filtering through the windows was hot that morning, and the collared shirt and tie were already warm enough. Nicole had imported the fabric samples I asked for, and they were spread out across my work table. I felt each one with my fingertips.
Muse stood with her arms over her chest, her frown deep.
I continued to ignore it. “It’ll be difficult for me to top my last line of lingerie, so I’m not going to chase that success again. I’m going in a different direction.”
She stayed on the other side of the table, her silence louder than words.
“Watching you in the stables gave me some ideas.” I opened my notebook and glanced at the sketches.
Muse remained as hostile as ever.
“Remove your clothes.” I kept my eyes on the paper, and when I didn’t hear any movement, I looked up to meet her gaze.
She wore a fiery expression. “Excuse me?”
The second I stepped into my office, I’d reverted back to my old ways. It was a habit that would be difficult to break. “Please.”
She remained rigid, defiant even though I’d corrected myself.
I knew what this was really about. “I said I don’t sleep with my models. No reason to be jealous.”
“I’m not jealous.”
“Really?” I challenged. “Because you’ve been in a pissed mood ever since we ran into Veronica and Juliet.”
“I just don’t see why you need to kiss everyone all the time.”
“Don’t insult my culture.”
“Your culture?” she snapped. “So if I kissed every handsome man I saw, you’d be perfectly okay with that?”
When Carter tried to take a picture of her ass, I nearly knocked him out. I didn’t like anyone looking at my muse, and if anyone touched her, I’d bury them six feet under. If her full lips ever touched another man’s skin, I’d explode. “It’s different.”