Supernatural thriller | Rising fashion influencer Rhea is gearing up for her runway debut, but her perfect world is upended when she finds herself haunted by a ghostly doppelganger.
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Twenty-four-year-old Rhea Patel has it all-the career in fash...
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Nolan and Joselyn turned and followed my line of sight, staring at the same spot on the opposite side of the room. When I glanced at Nolan, he shook his head in annoyance. "You're trying to deflect, aren't you? You're willing to create an issue because you want to call off the live stream today? Listen, babe. I understand you've been working super hard these last few weeks, but this upcoming week is the most important of your career."
"It's not that, Nolan." I secured the robe, clutching it tighter at my chest. I knew I should not have opened my mouth about it, and of course the vulnerability rushed in. "I thought I saw something. It scared me, but it's nothing. It's fine."
He sighed. The steel blue in his eyes complimented his short, slick, dark hairstyle perfectly. "I didn't mean to get snippy, babe." He pulled me forward by the nape of my neck to kiss my forehead. "We've all been work horses lately. You forgive me?"
"Yes, I forgive you." I glanced at Joselyn who stood by silently, waiting patiently with her lips tightly pressed together. Was that an attempt to keep from putting her foot in her mouth and saying something she couldn't take back later? Was that confirmation that she sided with Nolan and his theory? "A shirt would be nice, Jos."
"I'm on it!" She clicked her tongue as she turned to leave the space. "That's what an assistant's for, after all," she mumbled as she disappeared around the corner and into the hall.
I couldn't give her any shit. Not only did she make a great assistant, for the few months of getting to know her, I always looked at her as a friend. A sister. A confidant. Although we were nearly the same age, the power dynamic between us–me hiring her and technically being her boss–always made me feel like the older sister.
I lay my head on Nolan's shoulder, feeling his defined muscles through his button-down shirt on my cheek as I took in a whiff of his subtle name brand cologne as if it were aromatherapy oil. I knew where his eyes roamed and what they had locked onto but decided not to let envy be another thing rattling around in my head. If only his scent contained properties that enhanced mental and emotional health and wellbeing. "I think I need a rest."
"I agree." He kissed my forehead again. The pale, smooth skin of his chin grazed my nose and I allowed my eyelids to close to let his comforting touch sink in. "But we have the live stream in less than an hour. I want you pumped, excited, lively. They want to see you at your best. Always."
Of course, "pumped, excited, and lively" was a part of the business of UpTube. You had to not only be entertaining but engaging at all times, never let your audience get bored. Never let their attention slip. And sell, sell, sell.
"Yea, yea." I huffed. A dull pain throbbed my right temple. "But maybe just a quick twenty-minute power nap?" My palms registered the hard muscle of his pecs as I persuaded him with my touch. "It'll help. Trust me." I gave him the look that usually prompted a 'yes' out of him while putting a growing knot in his pants.
