Muse in Lingerie (Lingerie 1)

Then they all looked at me—furious.

The woman in charge faltered before she found her voice. “Uh, head backstage, please…” Judging by the fear in her voice, this had never happened before. Conway Barsetti hadn’t even seen all the models before he dismissed them.

He hadn’t even seen me move yet.

He was about to be disappointed.

Heels tapped against the stage as all the girls walked off, their silent fury audible in my ears. They moved behind the curtain, and within a few seconds, the sound of their heels ended. Then all I could hear was my own breathing.

And it was loud.

Conway Barsetti didn’t move from his seat. Everyone was rigid around him, waiting for whatever would come next.

Was I supposed to do something?

The woman who was telling us what to do a second ago had disappeared with the other girls, so there was no one to give me any direction. I kept my posture as long as I could, feeling my shoulders ache from pulling them back so tightly. It was difficult to tell exactly what Conway was doing because the audience was a haze when the bright lights hit my face so hard.

Then he spoke again. “Leave us.”

He’d dismissed the others, but now, he seemed to be dismissing me.

Everyone seated in the audience rose to their feet and started to leave.

I turned away and did the same.

“Not you.” His voice rose slightly. “Stay.”

Somehow, I knew he was talking to me. I slowly turned back around, watching everyone else walk out the double doors. They shut behind them, and after that loud clank, it was silent again.

Now it was even quieter than before.

Conway rose to his feet, buttoning the front of his suit at the same time with elegant grace. He moved to the center of the wide aisle, his hands sliding into his pockets. Now that he had moved away from the shadows of the seating area, his whole face was on display.

His eyes never looked so green.

His wide shoulders hinted at the power underneath his suit. He was in the audience and I was the one on stage, but he seemed to be the center of focus. For a man like Conway Barsetti, he didn’t need a stage. He was always the star.

I crossed my arms over my chest, hiding my bare stomach from view. Now that it was just the two of us, I felt even more on vulnerable. I was aware of the way the lingerie pushed my boobs tightly together to form a dramatic cleavage line. I was aware of how revealing my thong was. My bare skin pebbled just from a single look from him.

“Don’t slouch.”

It took me a moment to process the order. I was used to firing back with smartass comments, but he was potentially my new employer. So I dropped my hands to my sides and stuck out my chest.

“Good.” He took the stairs and slowly reached the stage, his heavy footfalls echoing due to the acoustics of the auditorium. He approached me from behind, making me feel like a small fish being circled by a shark.

Now I was even more aware of my bare ass.

I could feel him stare at it.

He slowly circled around me, coming around my left until he was directly in front of me. His hands remained in his pockets, and his eyes combed over my body, examining the roundness of my shoulders and the hollow in my throat. He moved farther south, taking in the sight of my cleavage then progressed downward.

I wanted to cross my arms over my chest again. I felt fire all over my skin, the heat in his gaze. I felt defenseless against this man—like I had no power whatsoever. That was a recurring theme in my life lately. Everything had been taken from me, but now this man was about to take whatever was left.

Once his examination was over, his eyes met mine. “Name?”

I didn’t want to have a name. I wanted to leave my old identity behind and start fresh. I didn’t want anyone to trace me back here. I was running from the American authorities and the mob at the same time. My odds of success weren’t great. “Does it matter?”

He must have expected me to answer him obediently because he couldn’t control the slight rise of his right eyebrow. He was nearly a foot taller than me even in the five-inch heels I wore, but I could still see his reactions easily. “You’d rather I called you Ten?” The baritone of his voice was mesmerizing. It had a hypnotic ability to stop me from thinking about anything. It was like a spell.

“Call me whatever you want. I don’t care.”

“If you don’t care, why don’t you just give me your name?”

Not only was he handsome and authoritative, but he was smart too. No wonder he was a billionaire and the most respected lingerie designer on the planet. “Ten, it is.”