An arranged marriage. An illicit affair. An unforgettable passion. A forbidden love...
A spoiled socialite clashes with a streetwise mechanic who challenges the order of her privileged life while an arranged marriage threatens even more.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
EIGHT MONTHS LATER
"We just think you'd be the perfect model for our brand," Ginette was saying as I video chatted with her in my living room. She was the creative director of an upcoming fashion boutique who'd contacted my agent about my modeling for their catalogue and ads. "What Slayed is all about is young, fun, sexy, women on the go, and you represent that completely. We love your style, and how it's totally unique and you. That's what we want to sell at Slayed."
I couldn't help but blush at the compliment and proposal. I'd been opening myself up to taking more brand deals, and this was one I was excited about. As my one major weakness in life was clothes.
My agent, Hans, wanted me to take some of the movie and TV roles filling my inbox, but that didn't seem authentic. That didn't seem me.
A glance at the clock on the wall told me I was running late.
"Listen, Ginette, it really means a lot that you guys are reaching out to me. Right now I have a prior engagement, but I will definitely get with Hans and we will talk about it, and hopefully get on another call with you, because this sounds like a fun opportunity."
Ginette didn't sweat my needing to leave as she beamed at me on her end. "No worries, Kennedy. Please, let us know what you're thinking as soon as you can."
"I will, I promise," I swore.
We hung up and I was quick to slide into my heels, grab my sunglasses and bag, and rush out the door of my penthouse. Down in my Lexus, I almost burst into laughter when my phone rang, showing my father was calling.
I was still in my penthouse, still deciding whether I wanted to make a move to the Heights or stay in the Hills. My family was in Hampton Hills, and while I had a couple people who would make Bedford Heights home, too, I was still unsure where I wanted to be. But I was in no hurry, as things were better for me these days.
I felt more independent as I made my own money and helped out at the local florist in Bedford Heights whenever I was free. It was a bitch for my nails, but I loved building arrangements through and through.
"Hello, Father," I said as I picked up his call, trying not to laugh as I drove for the highway.
He was working with the best doctors, trying his hardest to live with his illness rather than succumb to it. My father had accepted that he'd never gain his mobility or strength to walk ever again, but he'd also learned to appreciate and respect the fact that he was fortunate enough to still have the ability to speak, to breathe, to move his arms and hands. That he was living.
These days, he was doing his best not to take on too much with Nichols & Wagner, and allowing Phil to lead most of the company. A feat I still couldn't believe.
I saw Cain a few times over the past few months, something that took getting used to. In a way, I admired his relationship with my father. Business or not, it was nice to see them interact, it was almost like my father had gained a son in the end.
