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"I can't help but notice how everyone in the room is looking at him, especially Karen and the makeup artist, practically drooling over my man.
They can't even hide it a little, I swear, I'm eager to give him that damn sweater so he can put it on immediately. Why on earth is it taking so long?
And just as if he heard me telepathically, at that moment, he looks over at me and slowly finishes putting on the garment.
He's doing it on purpose. He did it on purpose! Idiot, I'm going to kill him! I swear.
First, for being an idiot, and then for making me feel this horrible sensation and horrible jealousy as payback.
My face is far from happy right now, and I bet I don't look pleasant at all when the cheerful makeup artist lowers her eyes in shame as I look at her.
The cheeky stylist whose name I don't even know calls her over to apply compact powder to the idiot's face to prevent it from shining too much in the photos.
She stands in front of him, and as she grabs the brush to apply it to his face, it slips from her hands due to the stress he's causing her. Is this serious?
"I'm sorry," she says innocently, like a child.
"Don't worry about it," he replies surprisingly calmly, making her face turn a thousand colors.
After what feels like an eternity, they finally put the jewelry on him and position him against the backdrop where he'll have to pose for the perfect photos.
They play music in the studio, and when they give him the signal to start and look at the camera, he doesn't even need to try to look beautiful.
Every shot taken of him is perfect, and even though the jewelry is supposed to stand out, it's him who dazzles because it's impossible to look away from him.
Hours pass with the flash never stopping, and my stomach growls with hunger. It's past noon, but to leave, I have to inform either him or Karen, and honestly, I don't want to talk to either of them.
"Miss, come here!" I hear the designer exclaim, but since I'm not sure if he's talking to me, I stay where I am. "Girl with hazel eyes and brown hair, are you deaf or something?"
It takes me a few seconds to realize he's talking to me, and it startles me slightly.
"You don't hear them talking to you?" Karen questions in front of me, grabbing my arm abruptly.
"Hey, don't touch me!" I retort, shaking my arm to make her let go.
"What's wrong with this girl?" the designer asks disdainfully. "You see why I tell you not to get involved with your employees?"
He's talking to Gérard, and my eyes widen hearing what he just said.
"Come here right now," he almost orders me with hatred in his gaze.
I just turn to Gérard, but he completely avoids eye contact, completely disconnecting from the situation.
I can't believe this.
Feeling utterly humiliated, I walk over to the man and when I finally reach him, the stupidity of his request exasperates me: he asks me to fetch him a bottle of water just because he's thirsty, as if I'm at his service.
Even though I'm furious, I have no choice but to obey and go fetch the damn thing he asked for.
I wander the halls looking for a place where I might find this liquid, but I don't even know where to look for a bottle of water here.
"Um, excuse me, do you know where I can find a bottle of water?" I ask a young woman walking down the hall.
"They're in the fridge in the room to the right," the brown-eyed girl kindly informs me.
"Thank you very much," I say quickly and head towards that place. When I enter, I spot the refrigerator and when I open it, I find dozens of bottles of water, in various sizes.
I grab the first one I can reach and without further delay, I return to the studio to give the water to that idiotic designer.
"Finally!" he exclaims, snatching it from my hands as I offer it to him.
He unscrews the cap and as he brings the bottle to his mouth to take a sip, I don't even have time to react when a few drops of that same water splash onto my chest, wetting my shirt.
For a few seconds, my body freezes, and my mind tries to process what just happened. I open my mouth, stunned, staring at my shirt, and the whole room falls silent.
He spat on me, he spat that damn water on me.
"What did you bring me, I didn't ask for this water!" he shouts.
"Hey, let's calm down," a voice intervenes around us, and I realize it's the producer stepping in as a mediator.
"Get lost!" I yell at the idiot who just spat on me, and I storm out of there without looking back.
When I step out of that disgusting place, the first person I see is Luc outside the van.
When he notices me, he approaches, but his words are cut short by my surprise action of wrapping my arms around his torso, needing a hug to hold back my tears.
"Please, just hold me," I ask him in a trembling voice on the verge of tears, and it takes him a few seconds to comply, gently embracing me.
"Miss, what happened to you?" he asks, but I'm unable to speak as my voice is choked up.
I just need to feel that someone truly cares and is on my side in this nightmare.
I understand it might seem ridiculous to seek this from my driver, but even though we're not close, he's the closest thing to a fatherly figure I have right now.
My chest is painfully tight, but I refuse to cry, I won't allow it, holding back the tears that threaten to spill.