*Sheepish smile* heey! Sorry i'm so late with the update! Not only did i re-write and unintentionally delete-and-not-save this an insane amount of times but i have been having the worst like cold. I'm not even kidding. It be sorta funny if it weren't me. But it is so ..i am sad :(. Anyway my birthday is the 23rd and i thought it'd be nice to give you all gift to celebrate my unfortunate day of birth.(i only say that cause i feel like a dying dog...please do not say happy birthday its not really going to be happy. just r&r and i'll take that as a celebration of my nascence. :D
Three weeks earlier.
Alec could feel the frown plastered on his face. He could feel his left eye twitch with annoyance and he could feel all the stress of being one of the youngest most promising designer finally getting to him. He blew a chunk of raven colored hair out of his face.
There was a small crowd of working people spread out in front of him. Maia, his caramel-skinned-gold-eyed wonder, as well as the face of ShadowHunter, was currently taking off and putting on numerous garments for their fall Fashion lookbook with Jordan and various others taking pictures and altering the clothing to fit her properly.
Isabelle, on the other side of the room was interviewing and snapping several new models to catwalk his creations in New York's fashion week. All the while Clary, Aline, and many others were franticly running around the room with scissors, fabrics, treads, and decorative prints in their arms.
The whole scene was a completely chaotic mess and Alec heard the little voice in the back of his head telling him staying where he was would only stress him further and might just ruin the creative mood he was in.
He chose to ignore it and took a deep breath. Irritability and lack of patience was sort of Alec's way of asking for help, and for a man who had to grin and bared it (everything, really) most of his life, it was step up.
"Isabelle, bring me your models we need to have a fitting test. Clary! I need six yards of our number 3-27 tweed fabric for that jacket, three yards of mesh, two of lace and some tulle. Everyone else, finish those alterations and get all the finished pieces in my office by three o'clock," The room scattered like a pile of kicked ants.
Alec scurried back to his office before anyone could annoy him with any more drama. He wouldn't be able to handle it. His tired eyes and irritable demeanor, and short temper where proof of that. To be quite honest, Alec had a lot to think about. He still needed at least twenty or so pieces for the Fall Fashion show and he had to work on his Back-To-School line, which was completely drying him of anymore original ideas. Not to mention his school was taking a back seat to his ever successful (and greatly stress-inducing) small business. The more he thought, the more he realized he was sacrificing a bit too much for his personal fame and title. He didn't have a steady relationship or even a social life like most people his age did nor did he keep in contact with his family. Alec suppressed a sigh at that one. His "family", who were nothing short of a disappointed when he came out of the closet after entering college.
He knew they knew; they had always segregated and ruled him out while growing up. But to them, him accepting it was the worst thing that could possibly happen. Their so called 'tarnished' image was because of their 'beloved' gay firstborn. Despite it all, both Isabelle and Jace stuck by his side. Both of them had even suspected his sexuality and his coming out was merely a green light for them to put their matchmaking skills to work (though, he wasn't sure if he should call them 'skills' but they were trying and that was all he could asked for).
Alec was ripped from his thoughts by a faint knock at the door, preceded by a very beautiful, tall, ravinette with a thick photo album-like book in her arms.
She smiled warmly at her brother.
"Hey, Jordan just finished the lookbook and Aline is working with the recruits. How are you holding up?"
Alec let out a puff of air, surprised he had even been holding his breath. "Fine, I guess, let me see."
She silently handed the book over to him. He proceeded in circling and commenting on each photo given with a bright red marker. The ones he approved were circled; the others were given a check and sometimes a short comment on why it was below ShadowHunter standards. Afterwards Isabelle handed Alec two Polaroid pictures of every model she had interviewed that day. They selected each model based off of facial preference then narrowed it down to height and proportions. Though most of them were rather average looking to the everyday person, there was always a 'flaw' that made them unique and appealing to the fashion industry. For Alec it was the doe-like eyes, full lips, and a mysterious air of timelessness that a model portrayed that land them a contract with him. He simply couldn't resist youthful beauty and even his collection and his store had an ageless feel to it. After much discussion and ruling out, Alec finally told Isabelle he needed to get back to his sketches.
"You're not finished?" With that Alec shot her a dirty look. His moody behavior had once again taken control.
"Sorry," She replied, a bit annoyed. "But Alec I really don't think you should be pushing yourself like this. Especially when you're a bit behind. I love you but you always over react. Your already stress out enough and it's late. Let me get these to Jordan and we can go to a club or something."
"Look, Izz, the fact that I'm behind is precisely why- "
"I am not taking 'No' for an answer," Isabelle said, repressing the urge to throw something at her brother in frustration, her face was already flushing a bit. "Now let's go before I make you."
"But your already making me..."Alec said in a mocking whine, a smile already gracing his lips.
Isabelle rolled her eyes."You are such a little baby."
Alec's smile broadened a bit. He couldn't help but think clubbing, despite the nuisance, would be good for him. Maybe find someone to hook up with. Alec let out a soft chuckle. Normally, he wouldn't think that way, but he couldn't help but feel it would help. Sex is a good stress reliever… Right?
(Line brake)
A sharky grin curled on her lips. Magnus frown and raised an eye brow. They were sitting face to face in a rather short, white Bentley with sterling silver coated rims and reverse doors. Magnus could feel the hairs on the back of his neck raise. To be honest, he wasn't quite as afraid of Camille as he was afraid of what she could do. And he most certainly had his reasons.
"What is it Camille?" Magnus said, careful not to show too much irritation in his tone.
She practically purred at the sound of her name. "I was just thinking," She placed her elbow on her bare knee and rested her cheek against her hand. Without lifting her head, she raised her eyes to him and batted her long, platinum lashes. "We're in New York,"
"And we have been for two hours, So what?"
"Well, not many people around here have heard about Idris." Camille waited for him to say something, but he just glared at her.
She continued, "We have a lot of competition Mags, so much so that we might need to.." She paused to look down. At what Magnus wasn't quite sure, but when her eyes meet with his, he could see, very clearly, the hunger in her eyes."...Ensure our success." She finished.
She said this with such false innocence, it took all Magnus had not to gag. Everyone who knew Camille, new she was far from innocent, for her to play coy with him was down right stupid. He knew her. He knew she wanted something from him. And she was trying to drag him on her side.
"I'm listening," 'Even though I don't give a fuck.' He wanted to add.
"There is only one spot for new designers open for Fashion week. Unfortunately, the only thing stopping us is a locally favored trunk show boy. Even Wintour is interested in him."
Magnus's frown deepened."Why is this spot so important? Why not snag a foreigner's spot?"
"Lots of things: a spread in Vogue, P.R., contracts with both Nordstrom and Bloomingdales...not to mention toying with our little victim's emotions."
"Who is it?"
From her bag, Camille pulled out a thick manila folder. In it were pages of information. From family history, residency, siblings, parents, contacts. Everything. Along with the file came numerous pictures. It was clear to Magnus that Camille was serious about this boy being a threat. It would take months of investigating and monitoring to hoard this much info.
But one thing struck him as odd.
Camille was not the type of person to put effort into something she wanted to destroy. Not even to rip apart the emotions of one feeble hot-shot. Why would she waste her time toying when she could just kill him? Her method simply didn't make any sense. It was just a Fashion Show, it seemed awfully juvenile to go this far.
"Your not going to kill him are you?" Camille watched Magnus's scowl loosen with confusion. She smirked at this.
"Nope," She replied, popping her "p". "You will. But first, I want you to," She chuckled."Seduce him." At this, Magnus raised an eyebrow. "I want you to make him trust you, make him feel all fuzzy inside. Give him a distraction. And find out what makes him so special. He's got connections I need Magnus. Some that could cost us our everything. And then, when I have what I need and you've had your fun, dispose of him. Or better yet, humiliate him. Make him wish he never even started this business, that he never meet you. And then kill him." Camille leaned forward and looked Magnus straight in the eye. "Can you do that for me?" She said, her voice was heavy with lust. She tossed the file from his lap, leaned forward and crouched slightly so that his fingers could reach the backs of her knees and her hands could rest on his thighs.
Magnus looked back at the pictures of the young designer Camille had provided. Though they were black and white, he could almost see the deep blues of his eyes, the shine of his raven hair and the glow of his moon colored skin. Magnus's lips curled into its own malevolent smirk.
YAY Chapter complete!
