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Jilted By Prince, Claimed By King
img img Jilted By Prince, Claimed By King img Chapter 6 6
6 Chapters
Chapter 8 8 img
Chapter 9 9 img
Chapter 10 10 img
Chapter 11 11 img
Chapter 12 12 img
Chapter 13 13 img
Chapter 14 14 img
Chapter 15 15 img
Chapter 16 16 img
Chapter 17 17 img
Chapter 18 18 img
Chapter 19 19 img
Chapter 20 20 img
Chapter 21 21 img
Chapter 22 22 img
Chapter 23 23 img
Chapter 24 24 img
Chapter 25 25 img
Chapter 26 26 img
Chapter 27 27 img
Chapter 28 28 img
Chapter 29 29 img
Chapter 30 30 img
Chapter 31 31 img
Chapter 32 32 img
Chapter 33 33 img
Chapter 34 34 img
Chapter 35 35 img
Chapter 36 36 img
Chapter 37 37 img
Chapter 38 38 img
Chapter 39 39 img
Chapter 40 40 img
Chapter 41 41 img
Chapter 42 42 img
Chapter 43 43 img
Chapter 44 44 img
Chapter 45 45 img
Chapter 46 46 img
Chapter 47 47 img
Chapter 48 48 img
Chapter 49 49 img
Chapter 50 50 img
Chapter 51 51 img
Chapter 52 52 img
Chapter 53 53 img
Chapter 54 54 img
Chapter 55 55 img
Chapter 56 56 img
Chapter 57 57 img
Chapter 58 58 img
Chapter 59 59 img
Chapter 60 60 img
Chapter 61 61 img
Chapter 62 62 img
Chapter 63 63 img
Chapter 64 64 img
Chapter 65 65 img
Chapter 66 66 img
Chapter 67 67 img
Chapter 68 68 img
Chapter 69 69 img
Chapter 70 70 img
Chapter 71 71 img
Chapter 72 72 img
Chapter 73 73 img
Chapter 74 74 img
Chapter 75 75 img
Chapter 76 76 img
Chapter 77 77 img
Chapter 78 78 img
Chapter 79 79 img
Chapter 80 80 img
Chapter 81 81 img
Chapter 82 82 img
Chapter 83 83 img
Chapter 84 84 img
Chapter 85 85 img
Chapter 86 86 img
Chapter 87 87 img
Chapter 88 88 img
Chapter 89 89 img
Chapter 90 90 img
Chapter 91 91 img
Chapter 92 92 img
Chapter 93 93 img
Chapter 94 94 img
Chapter 95 95 img
Chapter 96 96 img
Chapter 97 97 img
Chapter 98 98 img
Chapter 99 99 img
Chapter 100 100 img
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Chapter 6 6

The lobby of the Ski Lodge was transformed into a makeshift studio. Lights, reflectors, and assistants buzzed around. The photographer, a renowned Frenchman named Luc, was tapping his foot impatiently.

"The light, it is dying!" Luc exclaimed, throwing his hands up.

Edris sat on a leather sofa, flipping through a magazine. She looked the picture of calm, though inside, her adrenaline was still spiking.

The doors opened. Clement hurried in, looking flushed. Bailee trailed behind him, still playing the role of the timid, supportive sister.

"Sorry, Luc," Clement said, breathless. "The gondola... technical difficulties."

"It was my fault," Bailee chimed in, her voice trembling. "I wanted to see the view one last time. I didn't know it would take so long."

Luc waved his hand. "No matter. Let us begin. Edris, darling, to the fireplace, please."

Edris didn't move. She closed the magazine slowly and placed it on the table.

She looked at Clement. He had changed his jacket, but he hadn't checked the collar of his turtleneck. There, stark against the cream wool, was a faint, orange smudge.

Foundation.

Bailee's shade.

"No," Edris said.

The room went silent. The assistants stopped adjusting the lights.

Clement blinked. "What?"

Edris stood up. "I said no. We aren't shooting today."

"Edris, don't be ridiculous," Clement hissed, stepping closer. "This is Vogue. You don't cancel on Vogue."

"I don't work with amateurs," Edris said, her voice carrying clearly through the quiet lobby. "And I certainly don't pose with men who can't even dress themselves properly."

She pointed a manicured finger at his collar.

Clement looked down. His eyes widened. He slapped his hand over the smudge, his face turning a mottled red.

Bailee gasped. "Edris! How can you be so mean? It's probably just... dirt."

"Dirt doesn't come in 'Porcelain Ivory', Bailee," Edris said coldly.

She turned to the photographer. "Luc, I apologize for wasting your time. Send the bill to the Mcclure estate. But looking at the..." she gestured vaguely at Clement, "current state of the subject, I think we can agree the aesthetic would be compromised."

Luc, who lived for drama almost as much as he lived for lighting, looked from Clement's panicked face to Edris's icy composure. He smirked.

"But of course, Mademoiselle. Perfection or nothing."

Edris nodded and turned on her heel.

"Edris!" Clement grabbed her arm. His grip was hard, desperate. "You are making a scene."

Edris looked at his hand on her arm, then up at his face. Her expression was one of pure disgust.

"Let go," she said softly.

The authority in her voice startled him. He dropped her arm.

"If you ever touch me like that again," she whispered, leaning in so only he could hear, "I will tell the world exactly where that makeup came from. And I have the photos to prove it."

She walked away, the click of her heels sounding like gunshots in the silent lobby.

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