A/N: I have the best reviewers, Thank you for your messages and encouragement. It is what keeps me typing! I want to give some readers special shoutouts for their faithful encouragement this go around. Thank you: Daytonalay, Krooela, T Traveller, Carol222, Margaret Talai, Snoopylover60, Onedirection2013, Monica Acevedo, Seattle Grey, and CLHB. I really needed a little pep after working tons of overtime. We are having a bit of a staff COVID outbreak where I work so that means I have been working ALL. THE. TIME! Don't get me wrong, I love being a nurse. I just haven't had any time for writing and editing. With this being said, I am hoping that I can still update at least every other week. If I can't, know that it is because I am hard at work. I'm about ready for this outbreak to be outta here!
Keep following, favoriting, and reviewing. These are the encouragement that I need to keep my tired fingers typing. Much love and THANK YOU!
Chapter 10
Meeting Ms. Wright
I knock on Margaret's office door.
"Ana, come in. You know you don't have to knock."
I give my boss a nervous glance.
"Uh oh, what's wrong," she asks.
"It's the cover art for Foolish. The art department has sent over three different mock-ups, but LaLa is insisting that none of the options are right for the book," I sigh.
"What is wrong with the art?"
"She wants something edgier, more reflective of the darker elements in the story. She says our art is too saccharine and predictable."
"Can she describe what she means by edgier and darker?"
"That's the problem. LaLa doesn't know what she wants. She says that she will know the cover when she sees it." I drop into a chair across from my boss's desk.
Margaret sits back to think for a minute, "What about something in black and white, maybe some shadowy still shots?"
"Maybe a wrist in handcuffs or a blindfold around the back of a head?" I suggest. This is why I love working for Margaret so much. She is great at brainstorming. Whenever I reach a dead end, I know that a conversation with Margaret will get my creative juices flowing again.
"We have the budget to hire a photographer. Why don't you set up some test shots? If LaLa likes them, we can book a studio and a model and sharpen them up a bit." Margaret suggests.
I wonder if José can help with this project? Although he prefers taking nature photos, he has done a fair amount of studio sessions for magazines and advertisers. He says those pay the bills to allow for him to focus on his love of outdoor photography.
Mia and I are meeting José and Frederic for dinner at a pop-up restaurant held in an old bank building. Of course, Mia and Frederic are on the short list for invitations to the secret celebrity chef event. José and I are tagging along as their plus ones. Life is never dull with friends like mine.
The event is held in an abandoned downtown bank building. The building is beautiful with old teller windows that have the bars on them like in old black and white movies. Tonight, there is no menu. Ragtime Jazz plays as servers dressed in waistcoats and tails bring us course after course of experimental dishes.
While sipping fluorescent martinis, our convo turns to my work and the cover art for Foolish.
"José, do you think you might be able to help us with some basic test shots? SIP can pay you."
"What do you have in mind?"
"We want some black and whites that hint at BDSM but not too over the top. The pictures have to be suitable for all audiences since the books will be on display."
"Do you have any thoughts for the composition?" Frederic asks.
"Something simple like a riding crop placed on satin sheets or a blind fold and handcuffs sitting on a table. These photos are just to give the author a feel for the concept. If she likes them, we will move forward with a model and a studio for a more refined set of pictures."
"Where do you want to take these pictures?" José querries.
"I don't know. Maybe at my apartment? I could buy some props, and we could play with different ideas."
Frederic and Mia exchange a conspiratorial glance. Grinning, Frederic asks, "What about Christian's apartment? He's got every prop they make. Any chance your naughty boyfriend would let us shoot in his, erh...playroom?"
Before I can shake my head no, Mia interjects, "That's brilliant! My brother has to let us do it!"
Us? When did Mia become part of this project? She does have an eye for edgy and artistic...and I can use all the help I can get. By the end of our dinner, I promise to ask Christian if we can use the red room. Something tells me he is not going to like this idea...
I am pretty nervous about meeting with a therapist. How does this work? I have spent most of my life avoiding topics such as my unusual family. Will she expect me to hit the ground running with a detailed synopsis of Carla and her many husbands? Will she raise an eyebrow when she learns that I chose to live with my step-father after my mom married bozo number three?
The therapist's office is in a building just a few blocks from SIP. Her office is very warm appears more like a living room than a clinical setting. It has a bohemian vibe that screams 'get comfie.' The walls are covered with vintage posters. The brightly colored rug shows just the right amount of wear. The camel-colored couch is lined with brightly patterned, mismatched throw pillows. A big, leafy potted plant soaks up the sun through gauzy curtains hanging from a long, gnarled piece of drift wood.
The therapist, Ellen Wright, introduces herself and tells me to use her first name. Ellen has curly blonde hair. She is wearing a maxi skirt paired with an oversized cardigan and tons of wooden bangle bracelets. If I had to guess, Ellen is probably in her early forties. She instantly sets me at ease. She seems genuinely interested in helping me. #belikeEllen might be my new life goal.
I sit on her couch, and she sits in a chair facing me. She slips her shoes off and brings her feet up to sit criss-cross. Ellen opens the cover to her iPad and taps the screen a few times.
"Ana, I am glad to meet you today. I received the referral paperwork from Dr. Green. Can you tell me a little bit about why you are here today?"
I nervously begin to tell her about the panic attack that I had at Kate's birthday. Ellen asks me questions about other times that I remember feeling anxious. She is really easy to talk with. I feel like I am hanging out with a new friend. Time flies.
At the end of the hour, Ellen goes over to one of the bookshelves. She pulls out a book for me. The book is on meditation for beginners. My homework this week will be to make time to meditate every day. I am also supposed to keep a journal any time I feel anxious. This will help to identify patterns and triggers. This seems do-able. I leave her office feeling hopeful.
Christian and I agree to celebrate Christmas after I return from celebrating in Montesano with Ray. Attempting to circumvent my billionaire's penchant for over-the-top gift giving (he gave Mia a flat in Paris), I suggest that we exchange gifts that we make for each other. Christian promises me that he will follow the rules and play along. The whole time that I am in Montesano, Christian texts me hints about what he is making for me. He sends a picture of a delicate silk ribbon and another of a needle. His hints have me giddy with anticipation.
Christmas with Ray is relaxing. He caught me meditating and wanted to learn, too. We cooked a big meal and watched It's a Wonderful Life. Carla called on Christmas afternoon. All-in-all, the time at home was relaxing and just what my soul needed.
I returned to Seattle to keep another appointment with Ellen. Her office is quickly becoming a safe space where I can talk and explore some of the things that I have kept to myself over the years. Ellen suggests that the panic attack that I had at Kate's birthday is related to my relationship with my mother. Many times, my mother chose a man over me. She did so with husband number three, she did so on the day of my college graduation, and she did so on countless other occasions throughout my life. Could it be that I feel like Kate is leaving me for Elliott? Hum, I'll have to let that idea marinate for a bit.
I go straight from Ellen's office to Escala. Butterflies fill my stomach as the elevator takes me to Christian's penthouse. Exchanging gifts with a boyfriend is a new experience for me. Urgh! I have always found the act of opening a gift in front of the giver to make me feel extremely self-conscious. Like, what if I don't seem appreciative enough? Not to mention, I usually feel embarrassed to know that someone felt obligated to spend money on me. For this reason alone, I have always avoided letting Kate and José throw me a legitimate birthday party. I would much rather celebrate by going to a club together and dancing into the wee hours of the morning.
Christian greets me when the elevator arrives to his floor. How is it possible that he got even hotter in the four days that I was gone? His dark jeans and untucked navy button up make him look like a Ralph Lauren model. After some too-hot-for-prime-time kissing and sniffing, Mr. Sex-on-Legs leads me to his dining table where Ms. Jones has set out a candlelit dinner for us.
We eat the most unbelievable lamb chops I have ever experienced. How can food taste this good? We drink several glasses of crazy-delicious red wine. Christian makes sure to keep my glass filled. Is he trying to get me drunk? Sweet gesture, but the joke is on him. Even without the alcohol, he is getting laid tonight.
After dinner, we sit by the fire and enjoy the twinkle of the lights on our tree. Christmas music floats through the air as Christian opens another bottle of wine. I feel my anxiety growing over the impending gift giving. Mr. Smells-Like-Sex seems to be a bit nervous as well. Time for the two of us to pull off the band-aid and open our presents together.
I insist that Christian open my crafty gift first. I gave him a glass bourbon decanter and four glasses. I used etching cream to put Christian's monogram on each piece. I used a dude-centric font. Christian seems genuinely pleased with his gift. He keeps saying how he can't believe that I made this for him. He gives me a thank you smooch before insisting on setting the set out on his wet bar in a place of prominence.
Christian disappears into his office for a minute before returning with my gift. He returns with a square box that he clearly wrapped himself. Well, I'll be a monkey's uncle, there is something that Mr. Billionaire can't do well – wrap presents. I unwrap the mangled package to find a velvet box inside.
"You better have made this gift," I tease him with a giggle.
"Oh, Ms. Steele…your lack of faith wounds me. I assure you that this gift is 100% handmade by yours truly," he teases me back with a chicken peck to my lips.
Coiled neatly inside the velvet case is the most stunning strand of black pearls that I have ever seen. The necklace is so long that I could loop it several times and still fit it around my neck. I am left speechless as I run my fingers along the pearls. How could this be handmade?
"So, I might have elicited some help from a friend," Christian explains as if reading my mind. He pulls out his phone to show me pictures of Christian and a well-dressed man sitting at his office desk. A large piece of fabric is laid out along with a bowl full of the black pearls, sewing supplies, and a magnifying lamp. I scroll through the photos to see Christian learning how to thread the pearls on a thin silk ribbon. The other man appears to be demonstrating how to tie knots between each pearl as the pictures show each step of the necklace making process. Christian did in fact make me the exquisite black pearl necklace. Seeing the Mikimoto logo on the inside of the velvet box, I think I know who Christian's friend might be.
"Did you have a real jeweler come to teach you how to make this?"
Without shame, Christian replies, "Of course. Mikimoto sent over the head master craftsman of their workshop to teach me the fine art of pearl stringing."
"Christian! Where is Mikimoto's workshop located?"
"Japan," he smugly replies.
"Did you fly a jewelry maker all the way from Japan to show you how to make this necklace?"
"Yep," he says, popping the P.
I throw my head back in laughter at the thought of my crazy, eccentric, richer-than-Oprah boyfriend sitting down for arts and crafts time with the world's foremost expert on pearl jewelry construction. Well, I mean, he did follow the gift-making rules that we agreed upon….
Christian loops the necklace twice and puts it around my neck. We take a selfie of the two of us, him drinking from one of the bourbon glasses and me with my pearls. God love this silly man.
Not too much later, we head to his bedroom where I thank Christian for my over-the-top gift. When we wake in the morning, I am wrapped in my man blanket and wearing only the pearls.