Black Light: Charmed (Black Light Series Book 15) Page 2

  “Whoa, whoa.” Lifting his hands, he waggled the champagne glass side to side, answering in hushed tones. “I’m here as a guest for a fashion show, I’m not trying to drag her off and tie her up.”

  Rolling her eyes, Madison planted one hand on her hip. “Then, why exactly are you trying to track her down?”

  “She travels a lot, I just wanted to see if we could talk. After the show, of course.” Sighing, he slapped on his most charming smile and shrugged. “Could you just do me a favor and tell her that Logan Chisholm is here? I’ll wait around as long as she needs after the show so we can chat.”

  Madison pursed her lips a little, eyes flicking back and forth between his, and he felt that tremor of anxiety amplify. “Are you, like, stalking her or something?”

  “Jesus, no!” Groaning, he swallowed the rest of his champagne just so he could hold the glass at his side without spilling it. “Look, we’ve tried to get back together a few times, and our schedules never worked out. Yes, I’m here to track her down because I found out she was in town again, but I’m not some crazy stalker. All I want you to do is let her know I’m here.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s it,” he confirmed, spreading his arms, trying to look as non-threatening as a guy a foot taller and easily twice her weight could look. Then, even though it grated another layer off his pride, he begged, “Please, Madison?”

  “Ugh, fine,” she finally acquiesced, then her finger came up to point at him sharply. “But if I find out you’re being some kind of creep with Cassandra, I’ll make sure you get banned from Runway and all other clubs associated with the Cartwright-Davidsons. Got it?”

  “Understood,” Logan answered, taking a step back from her as he turned on his smile again. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Glancing down at the tablet tucked against her waist, she made a little panicked sound and grabbed the door handle. “I have to go, and you need to get back to the welcome party. Go!”

  Chuckling, he took a few steps backward and watched Madison bolt out the side door. Through the windows, he could see her heading down the stone steps toward several large, white tents set up on the lawn alongside the pool. They were completely closed, likely to keep out the chill in the air today and keep assholes from peeping at the models getting dressed.

  Assholes like me.

  Turning away, Logan marched back into the party, immediately swapping for a fresh glass of champagne off the first tray he found. As much as he wanted to push it away, Madison’s words were eating at him, digging into his confidence, but there was no reason for it. He’d never been aggressive with Cassandra. If anything, he’d been too casual. He hadn’t asked her out enough… but what if she felt differently? What if she saw this as creepy?

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  Downing the champagne, he turned to walk back through the rooms of the house, seeking out the little bars that were usually tucked away and active when Runway was open, but they were all empty. No liquor, no bartenders.

  If he’d been smart, he would have grabbed the flask from his desk at work. Of course a fancy little event like this wouldn’t have an open bar, much less a cash one. It wasn’t even two o’clock yet. All of that shit would come out before they opened the dance club tonight, and he had no plans to be upstairs at that time.

  Hopefully he’d be downstairs, at Black Light, with Cassandra.

  “As long as you don’t fuck this up,” he muttered to himself under his breath, wandering back to the entrance of the ballroom where the show would be happening in — Logan checked his watch — fifteen minutes.

  Yep. Just don’t fuck this up.

  Try not to be an asshole.

  Sighing, he scanned the room for the next tray of champagne, hoping that Cassandra would give him ten minutes to remind her of the night they’d had. A night they could have again, tonight, if she’d only say yes.

  Chapter 2

  Cassandra

  “You look great, Cassandra!” Maritza called out as she walked behind her in the mirror, waving.

  “You do too!” Waving, she tried to keep herself as still as possible in the chair, even though she was so full of nervous energy she felt like she might start vibrating at any second. It was always like this before a show though. So much activity, so many people, and it was contagious. Cassandra wanted to be up and moving, doing something. Even if all she did was pace the tent like several of the other girls.

  “I love your hair,” Trina cooed from behind her as she spritzed water on her hair and returned to it with the pick, fluffing her curls higher on the top to create a perfect curve.

  “Thanks,” Cassandra said, smiling at the stylist in the mirror as she laughed a little. “I’m just relieved someone here knows how to handle this mane. It can be a beast!”

  “Oh yeah, you’ve got a ton of hair, and I’m sure you’ve met some people who didn’t know what they were doing. Don’t worry though, you’re going to look phenomenal. I promise.” Trina winked at her in the mirror as she switched to her hands, patting the edges of the afro until even the most defiant curls were tamed. The woman really was doing a great job, and since she was sure that her natural hair had been part of the reason the designer had wanted her on the runway today — it mattered.

  Of course, being friends with Chase and Jaxson didn’t hurt, but it wasn’t like they were best friends who hung out all the time. They’d ended up at the same shoots a handful of times, hung out, and she and Chase had swapped numbers to chat occasionally… and a few of those more entertaining text convos had led to her being invited to Black Light after it opened.

  Okay, so Chase was a good friend.

  It didn’t matter though. Whether he’d pulled strings to get her on the list of possible models for this show or not, she’d still brought her A-game. She’d owned the catwalk, and Anna Casqueiro had selected her as one of the ten models for today.

  “Done!” Trina cheered, clapping her hands together, and Cassandra hopped out of the chair, turning to carefully hug the woman so she didn’t mess up her makeup or all the work she’d just done.

  “Thank you so much, you’re amazing.”

  “It’s my job! Now, I think they want you over by Mrs. Casqueiro. Hurry,” Trina said, nudging her hip, and she went where she was told. Half of modeling was just waiting to be told what to do — where to stand, how to pose, smile, don’t smile, blah blah blah. But it made the day fly by, and judging by the number of people sprinting around the tent, it was almost runway time.

  “You!” A loud, feminine voice shouted, and then she saw Anna Casqueiro marching toward her, eyes already roving over her body. “Let me look at you. Hmm… okay. Yes.”

  The woman turned, snapping her fingers at someone as she spoke in rapid Spanish, and the young man hurried over to the racks of clothes.

  “Walk with confidence, yes? Proud. Chin up. No smiles. Just like yesterday.” Mrs. Casqueiro nodded at her as the man came back holding two long, white dresses. Both were sleek, designed for the winter parties so many of the wealthy in L.A. would be going to, and Anna looked between the two before tapping the one on the left. “This one. The other on that brunette over there, the one with freckles. For this girl, I think the navy one is second. With the gold trim.”

  Cassandra stayed put as the young man rushed back to the racks of dresses, shoving the ones she would wear during the show in the section of the rack behind her name. The other dress went behind a placard that read Stephanie. Mrs. Casqueiro had already wandered off to snap at someone else, and when the young man didn’t even glance back at her, she took that as permission to head over to the snack table where several of the other girls were gathered near a heater.

  As usual, everyone was standing around in bras and underwear only, so the warm rush of air over her legs felt good. Leaning down, she let it soak into her hands for a moment before she stepped out of the way to snag a strawberry.

  “I think the designer is a little stressed today,” one of th
e girls leaned over to whisper, and Cassandra laughed under her breath.

  “Just a little bit. But this is her event, it’s not Fashion Week. If we run a few minutes behind, everyone will just wait.” Shrugging, she smiled at the other model. “I always try to just go with the flow.”

  “That is something I wish I could do. I’m always worried about what’s happening next, what I’m missing. Total FOMO.” The girl rolled her eyes. “I just need to chill out.”

  “LADIES! Time to get dressed!” Sam, the backstage manager for this show, shouted over the bustle of voices in the tent, and the girl laughed.

  “Of course, sometimes my anxiety has a reason.”

  “Yep, that’s showtime,” Cassandra replied before she glanced down at the strawberry in her fingers. There was no way she’d be able to fix her makeup if she messed it up now. Damn. Sighing, she set the strawberry back down uneaten, which made her stomach rumble angrily. She should have listened to Abelita this morning and eaten a better breakfast. A yogurt while running out the door was not enough — which was exactly what her roommate had yelled at her as she climbed in the car to make it here on time.

  Rolling her eyes at being forced to admit Abelita was right again, she gathered near the other girls. The first few to go were already getting dressed, and if Cassandra remembered correctly, she was fifth in line.

  “Cassandra!”

  Turning at the sound of her name, she saw a familiar blonde girl weaving through the busy tent toward her, and as she got closer, she realized who it was. “Madison!”

  “Hey, sorry, I know you’re about to get started, and everything is totally ready inside, I just wanted to tell you that this guy named Logan… something, is here to see you. Sorry, I didn’t write his name down because I’m insane right now, but he says he’ll wait for you after the show.” Madison glanced down at her tablet, tapping at something before her eyes came back up. “Look, I’m really sorry, but if I don’t get back inside Jaxson will freaking kill me. I hope this is good news, but if he’s a creep just tell me, and I’ll have him dragged out on his ass.”

  “No, it’s fine,” Cassandra answered, but her heart was still racing. Logan came here? To this? Shaking herself, she flashed a smile and reached over to squeeze Madison’s shoulder. “Really, it’s all good. I’ll talk to him, okay? You hurry inside!”

  “Thanks! You’re going to do great!” Madison cheered before she spun and rushed back the way she’d come.

  “Cassandra, over here please.” One of the dressers called, waving her closer, and like a good model she obeyed. The dress slid on like a glove, cupping her hips, and as they adjusted it and helped her into shoes, all she could think about was Logan Chisholm.

  It had to be him, because there was no other ‘Logan’ that it could be.

  Does this mean he’s still interested?

  The thought made a warm feeling spread through her as various people wearing headsets started to line them up, rushing the ones already dressed out of the tent and onto the stone area at the base of the stairs.

  “Shoes!” one of the dressers called out, snapping her fingers to point at all of them.

  Grass.

  Looking down at her heels, Cassandra couldn’t see anything, but when it was her turn, she still steadied herself on the dresser’s shoulder so they could wipe off the bottom of the shoes. She needed to be focused right now, mentally preparing to walk the runway, but her eyes kept drifting up to the patio where she could see the tops of the windows.

  Could Logan really be in there?

  After so many months without a text, she’d figured he had moved on, found a sub who was in town more than she was. Having him show up here, if he was here, was a very interesting surprise — but that was how the universe worked sometimes, bringing the unexpected, changing the winds of fortune. Whether this would be a good thing, or not so much, would be up to fate.

  Anna Casqueiro burst out of the tent with two people trailing behind her, one was a makeup artist, and the other was her assistant. He was reading from notecards as she marched across the grass with the kind of confidence that made everyone pay attention. It made Cassandra smile to herself, because in a field that used to be so male dominated — and still was at times — it always made her happy to see another woman be successful.

  Absolute badass bitch territory.

  “Listen!” Mrs. Casqueiro called out, clapping her hands once. “Remember your order for the change. Be powerful, confident. Do not smile. This is strength in winter! Be cold and bold!”

  Cold and bold.

  “Yes, Mrs. Casqueiro,” Cassandra answered along with several of the other models, but the woman was already heading up the stairs as a dresser chased after her to wipe her shoes.

  The heavy bass from the music coming on echoed out over the lawn, and then it was showtime. Applause rolled out of the room above, and the other models began to file up the stone steps ahead of her. Following, Cassandra took a deep breath of the cooler air outside and let her face go smooth.

  Strength in winter. She lifted her chin as she entered the tiny backstage space created by the floor-to-ceiling white drapes. I’ve got this.

  Chapter 3

  Logan

  In some kind of twisted joke from the universe, he’d ended up sitting just in front of Derrick Mathers and his obnoxious wife, Amber. As soon as they’d taken their seats, Derrick had immediately thumped him on the shoulder to introduce him, and after the pleasantries he’d tried to ignore them, but neither of them seemed to take the hint when he kept turning around to look at the runway.

  No, they both kept talking to him.

  Like he wore a sign that read ‘please tell me about your bullshit company.’

  Amber had spent the past ten minutes explaining the differences between sourcing organic and non-organic herbs — knowledge that Logan could have spent his entire life without knowing — and it didn’t seem like she was winding down.

  “See, it’s all about keeping your products pure, because if they put those things on the plants then—” She paused to sigh loudly. “Obviously it’s going in your skin too, and that stuff is poison! Just, absolute poison, so obviously none of that is included in anything my company makes.”

  “Obviously,” Logan replied, deadpan, as he glanced back at the stage.

  “And that’s why she’s so beautiful too,” Derrick added, reaching over to squeeze Amber’s thigh while she giggled and swatted at his hand.

  “Oh, stop. Eating well is a huge passion of mine as well, because you know that’s the first place you can really start to impact your skin, it’s—” The boom of the bass as the music changed stunned her into silence, and Logan almost cheered out of sheer gratitude.

  “Excuse me,” he said, straining for polite as he turned all the way back to the stage to block them out. This time, they seemed to get the hint as everyone began to clap and bright lights turned on, aimed at the runway, and a pair of people dragged curtains along the walls to block out the light from outside. It left the runway glowing brightly, surrounded by shadow, and he had to admit that the theatrics were more than he’d expected. When the designer finally walked out through the curtains at the back, the applause grew louder, and Mrs. Casqueiro accepted them with gracious nods as they turned down the music a little for her to speak.

  “Welcome, and thank you all for coming,” she said with a slight Spanish accent, but he couldn’t focus on her. As she began introducing the clothing line, he kept skimming the curtains, trying to catch a glimpse of Cassandra. Unfortunately, the fabric went wall to wall, and there wasn’t a hint of any of the models through a gap.

  Impatient, he sat back and listened as she talked about the power of winter and how capturing that inspired her line of dresses for the season. After what seemed like a ten-minute speech, she finally bowed, and he applauded with everyone else as the music changed.

  The show started with a tall, blonde woman who was definitely pretty, but not Cassandra. Plucking at the corner
of the card he’d found on his chair, he sat up straighter in his seat, forcing himself to take deep, even breaths as woman after woman walked the runway. The dresses were nice, but it wasn’t like he knew much about fashion. He knew what he liked to wear, knew that a bespoke suit was more comfortable than anything off the rack, but beyond that he just bought what he liked.

  And he didn’t wear dresses.

  He was just about to start looking around again when the brunette on stage passed through the curtain, and Cassandra appeared. Everything else seemed to freeze as she walked forward, head held high, eyes glued to the back of the room. Earlier in the day he’d wondered if she’d notice him in the audience, if she might stop to see if it was really him — but he didn’t even want that anymore.

  This was so much better.

  Her warm-toned skin seemed to glow in the lights, and her cheeks were dusted in something shimmery that made her eyes stand out as a vibrant mix of honey and brown sugar. The dress hugged her curves in a way that had him wanting to buy it right then just so he could see her in it again. It was ghostly white, and she looked ethereal as she passed him, moving to the end of the runway to stop, turning to one side and then the other, before coming back toward him.

  Fuck.

  His memories hadn’t done her justice. She was beautiful, gorgeous, incredible.

  The only thing missing to make her perfect was her smile. Hell, he’d spent just as much time thinking about the way she’d laughed when they’d gone out for pancakes as he had dreaming of her over that damn spanking bench. That night her smile had been radiant, and even though she’d spent half of their late-night meal at IHOP cracking jokes at his expense… he’d taken every playful swipe at his ego in stride because of the way she looked when she smiled.

  Too soon, Cassandra was gone, replaced by another model. Logan almost got out of his seat to find her, but one glance down the row of people intently watching the show kept him seated.