SERVING THE COUTURIER

  SERVING HIM SERIES

  M. S. PARKER

  BELMONTE PUBLISHING, LLC

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2023 Belmonte Publishing LLC

  Published by Belmonte Publishing LLC

  CONTENTS

  Free Book

  1. Leah

  2. Leah

  3. Damien

  4. Leah

  5. Damien

  6. Leah

  7. Damien

  8. Leah

  9. Damien

  10. Leah

  11. Damien

  12. Leah

  13. Damien

  14. Leah

  15. Damien

  16. Leah

  17. Damien

  18. Leah

  19. Damien

  20. Leah

  21. Damien

  22. Leah

  23. Damien

  24. Leah

  25. Damien

  26. Leah

  27. Damien

  28. Leah

  29. Damien

  30. Leah

  31. Damien

  32. Leah

  33. Damien

  34. Leah

  35. Damien

  36. Leah

  37. Damien

  38. Leah

  39. Damien

  40. Leah

  41. Damien

  42. Leah

  43. Leah

  44. Damien

  45. Leah

  46. Damien

  47. Leah

  48. Damien

  49. Leah

  Epilogue

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  ONE

  LEAH

  The sound of applause echoed in my ears, the warm sunshine kissing my face and making the surrounding trees burst with color as they danced in the gentle breeze.

  My twin sister, Sophie, gave a joyful whoop, her eyes sparkling like the starriest night. Without warning, she threw her arms around me in a hug so tight it was like she was trying to squeeze life into me, not out of me. I hugged her back, feeling the graduation gown against my skin, a mix of emotions in my stomach.

  I was still riding on the adrenaline from addressing the entire graduating class. As the valedictorian, I was required to speak, and it had been my first time giving a speech in front of such a large crowd. My knees still trembled beneath my gown, and I wondered if they would ever stop.

  Sophie hooked her arm through mine. “Let’s go,” she said, her voice carrying the pure essence of joy. “Dad, Mom, and Jason are waiting. Are you coming to the party with me tonight?”

  “I’m not sure,” I responded, a half-hearted smile playing on my lips.

  Sophie rolled her eyes dramatically, her breath huffing out in the way only she could manage. “You must come, Leah. It’s the last chance we’ll get to hang out before I jet off. And for the record, you totally rocked the stage.”

  “Really?” I asked, a wave of doubt sweeping over me.

  “Absolutely!” Sophie replied with conviction. Her gaze darted over the crowd, touching on each familiar face like a butterfly passing from one flower to another in a vibrant meadow.

  “Oh look, there’s Jaynie! I need to go say bye. She’s about to leave for her grandmother’s funeral. What a drag, getting that call this morning. She’s been crying off and on all day. I’ll give her your love.”

  Sophie quickly made her way through the crowd, her graduation gown draped over her arm and her Ferragamo shoes guiding her. It didn’t surprise me. Sophie was the outgoing one of us, buzzing with energy and full of life–the polar opposite of my reserved nature.

  With a soft sigh, I unzipped my gown and took it off, neatly folding it as I scanned the crowd for my family, my hands sticky with nervous anticipation.

  A familiar figure bobbed through the sea of people, a wide smile breaking across his face–Jason Wheeler.

  His presence acted like a magnet, pulling everyone’s attention towards him. The self-assured stride and crisp suit made him look like a character right out of a romance novel.

  “Hey, babe,” he greeted, his voice silky, causing a small shiver to ripple down my spine. He reached out to tuck a wayward curl behind my ear, his touch as light as a summer breeze. “Sorry I’m late. Traffic was a nightmare.”

  His casual intimacy made me blink in surprise. A few moments passed before I realized he had mistaken me for Sophie. The resemblance between us, likely amplified by my special graduation hairstyle, tricked him.

  As he leaned in a smidge closer, his eyes flickered with mischief. “I can’t wait for our Aspen escape. Just us two... no interruptions... well, you get the picture.” His voice trailed off, a playful grin spreading across his face.

  I felt my cheeks go red, and I instinctively took a step back. “Jason!” I squeaked out, louder than intended. “I’m Leah, not Sophie!”

  His face froze into a look of shock and confusion. If it weren’t for the embarrassing nature of the situation, it would have been laugh-out-loud funny. He stuttered an apology, his cheeks flushing a deep crimson as he processed his blunder.

  “Leah!” My mom’s voice rang out over the crowd, causing us both to snap our heads in her direction.

  I gave Jason a friendly tap on the shoulder. “Sophie will be back in a sec. It’s nice to see you.”

  “Same,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. As he trailed behind me towards my parents, looking slightly dazed, he likely hoped that Sophie would soon find us.

  Richard and Lorraine Martin, my parents, came hurrying up and engulfed me in a hug that smelled of White Diamonds perfume.

  “You sounded wonderful, dear. I knew you would. Didn’t she sound wonderful, Rich?” Mom asked.

  “She sure did,” Dad replied, giving me a quick peck on the cheek as Mom let me go. His warm, familiar smile lit up his broad face.

  Their pride radiated from within, and I blushed, stammering out a thank you.

  “Where’s Sophie?” Mom asked, searching the crowd.

  “Oh, she went to tell her friend Jayne bye. Jayne’s grandmother...”

  “Oh, heavens, yes, I heard.” Mom pursed her lips and patted my shoulder. “Sophie texted me this morning. Jayne was crying on her shoulder - just a mess. Poor girl. Oh, there she is.”

  Mom breezed past me like she was on a mission, making a beeline for Sophie. I swiveled around, watching the scene unfold. She planted a kiss on each of Sophie’s cheeks, every ounce of her motherly love pouring out in those moments. Then it was Dad’s turn, his pride in Sophie lighting up his face like a Christmas tree. Jason was next, holding back respectfully until Dad had finished.

  As soon as he got the chance, he scooped Sophie into his arms and spun her around, a smile as bright as the sun on his face.

  Throughout it all, Mom was snapping away with her fancy Nikon D6, every click capturing a memory in crystal clear detail. Honestly, it was hard to remember a time when Mom didn’t have a camera glued to her hand.

  But standing there on the sidelines, a wave of dread washed over me.

  Around us, hundreds of fellow graduates and their families rejoiced, yet I felt isolated. The words of praise Mom had showered on me a while ago seemed to dissolve in the sea of faces, replaced with a wave of loneliness. It wasn’t just the feeling of being alone, but the sense of not being enough, especially when Sophie was around. She was the star of the show, and I was just...me. It was like I was a spectator, watching everyone else have a good time.

  A pit in my stomach grew, my anxiety spiking as I realized just how much this situation was getting to me.

  Not that I didn’t love Sophie. She was my twin and closest friend. But she blossomed like a flower under the light of attention and praise, while it made me self-conscious and sent me running for the shadows, like moss or fungus. Nothing sexy about moss or fungus.

  “Stop it,” I told myself under my breath as Sophie caught sight of me and waved for me to join them.

  “My two beautiful girls,” Dad caught us both in a tight hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

  “Dad, you’re gonna mess up my hair,” Sophie said with laughter in her voice.

  “You’re gorgeous no matter what,” he replied, his voice sounding a little choked up as he let us go. We both looked at his face, and my throat tightened to see the glimmer of tears there.

  “Daddy!”

  “Ignore me, pumpkin. I’m just so proud of you both.” He smiled.

  “Don’t start crying!” Sophie said in a half-teasing, half-threatening voice. “If you do, you might make me cry, and I have to look outstanding for lunch.”

  “Ah, yes... and where is Jason taking you again?” Dad asked with a smile as he slid his arm around Sophie’s shoulders.

  As they talked, Mom snapped more pictures, then abruptly swung around and focused her lens on me. She snapped a picture before I could make myself smile, then lowered her camera and beamed at me.

  “You did well today, Leah.”

  I
found a smile and nodded. “Thank you.”

  As the conversation flowed around me, my thoughts meandered toward the upcoming job interview at the Goddick Fashion House. Even without the glamor and prestige of Laurent Lumiere, this job was still a great opportunity. A junior designer job, just like Sophie’s. I had graduated from Parsons at the top of the class. If I could do that, I could do anything.

  As our family gathered for pictures and laughs, my resolve grew stronger. This was my moment to step out of the shadows and show the world what Leah Martin was capable of.

  TWO

  LEAH

  I shot another impatient look at my watch. Another three torturous minutes had slipped by, feeling more like eons. My interview, for which I had meticulously prepared, should have begun over half an hour ago. The receptionist nearby was engrossed in a phone call, oblivious to my presence.

  Perhaps I should call it quits, head back home and resume the endless job hunt—this opportunity was nothing more than a shot in the dark, anyway. The interview was a favor from one of my professors. But the idea of surrendering without at least trying rankled. No, I’d wait a tad longer.

  The receptionist finally hung up her call, and her gaze flicked my way. Straightening up, I plastered on a smile that belied the internal hurricane of anxiety. She seemed surprised to find me still there. But just as she parted her lips to address me, the door next to her desk swung open. A tall, imposing woman with punky platinum hair and sharp, pale eyes dominated the doorway. A knot formed in my throat as our gazes met.

  “Ms. Martin?” Her tone was cool, almost frosty.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I stammered, jolting up so swiftly that my portfolio nearly slipped out of my hold.

  “Carol, please,” she responded, arching an eyebrow and signaling for me to follow. “Come in. Mallory, order us some lunch, will you? Your choice. Grab something for yourself, too. It’s shaping up to be one of those days.”

  “Of course, Carol. Thank you,” Mallory responded, her voice barely rising over the din of her ringing phone. Her resigned sigh echoed as I stepped into Carol’s office.

  My heartbeat pounded in my ears as I took a seat across her desk, my hands clammy and trembling.

  “Arthur Macnamara thinks highly of you, Leah,” Carol started, sinking into the plush burgundy leather of her executive chair. “He considers you one of the most promising students he’s ever taught at Parsons.”

  “Mr. McNamara is too kind,” I replied, forcing a tight smile.

  “Perhaps not,” she countered, toying with a pen on her desk blotter. “He’s gruff, but he usually hits the nail on the head. Show me what you’ve got.”

  As I handed her my portfolio, my stomach twisted into knots while she leafed through it.

  “And what drew you to fashion?”

  “My mother was a photographer,” I explained. “She had a stint with fashion photography when I was a kid. Sometimes, if she was chummy with the designer, she’d let us tag along. The fabrics, the colors, spellbound me.”

  A ghost of a smile flickered on her lips. “You do have an eye for color.”

  Hope stirred within me, but I tamped it down—not yet. She snapped the portfolio shut as her smile disappeared.

  “Your designs show a creative eye and a novel approach, but they’re too avant-garde for us at Goddick. We’re after commercial designers, not someone this...radical. I’m sorry.”

  “I can produce commercial designs,” I rushed to assure her. “There are several contemporary, marketable pieces at the end of my portfolio.”

  Carol lifted an eyebrow, reopening the portfolio, and skimmed to the end. “Hmm,” she murmured after a minute, examining the designs. She closed the portfolio, her gaze meeting mine. “Indeed...” A pause. “Look, the reality is, you don’t quite have the experience we require for a junior designer position. However, we have an internship opening. It’s unpaid. Might stretch up to a year, maybe more.”

  My heart dropped a few beats at the prospect of spending a year without a paycheck, but there it was—the golden opportunity I’d been dreaming about—an entry ticket into the industry. I hesitated, grappling with the practicalities of my situation.

  Carol must’ve sensed my internal struggle, because she quickly chimed in, “You don’t have to decide right this second, Leah. Take the weekend, think it over. You can get back to us on Monday.”

  I nodded, my mind spinning with a whirlwind of thoughts. Relief washed over me, mixed with a tinge of uncertainty. “Thank you, Carol. I really appreciate the opportunity.”

  “Just remember, Leah,” she warned, as we walked towards the door, “if you decide to take this up, I’ll be expecting nothing less than your best. Hard work, exceptional designs, the whole shebang.”

  “I understand,” I replied, my voice layered with the resolve I was feeling.

  Walking out of the office and into the city streets felt like stepping into a whirlwind of emotions. On one hand, I had a ticket into the world of fashion, which was amazing. I mean, how many people get a chance like that? But I couldn’t shake this nagging thought at the back of my head. I’d slaved away at school, aced every exam, and all I got was this unpaid gig?

  Then again, nobody said life was going to hand me everything on a silver platter. And it was still an opportunity, right? This could be the stepping-stone I needed. Maybe it wasn’t the glamorous start I’d dreamed of, but it was a start.

  It was storming outside, a cold, icy rain that was expected to turn into sleet and then snow by the afternoon. Tucked up in the bedroom I had occupied since childhood, I frantically scrolled through job postings on Indeed.com, hoping to find a part-time job. One that would be flexible enough, pay well enough, and only require me to work on weekends, so that I could take an internship at Goddick’s. However, it seemed impossible to find such a job.

  My phone rang. Recognizing the caller id, I picked it up, smiling as I answered. “Sophie, how’s the trip going? Are you ready to come back?”

  “No!” she wailed.

  My heart stopped. “What’s wrong?”

  “Leah, everything,” she said. “Absolutely everything.” In the background, I heard Jason talking, his voice low and soothing, then I heard a few beeping sounds. “Where are you?”

  “In the hospital,” she said, quieter this time, but still just as upset.

  I bolted upright in bed. “What happened?”

  “Bit of a tumble on the slopes. I’ll be okay—don’t freak out, and please don’t go alerting Mom and Dad. I’ll call them next, but I need your help right now!”

  Rubbing my temples, my mind spun. “Whatever you need, Soph. Just spit it out.”

  “I knew I could count on you. I need you to.…” Sophie hesitated, drawing a deep breath. “I need you to play me.”

  A pause stretched out, but she didn’t elaborate.

  “Play...you?” I echoed, confused.

  “Yes. My new job starts on Monday, Leah. I can’t afford to miss my first days, but I’m grounded here for a few weeks, and I look like a total wreck. There’s no way I’m showing up at Laurent Lumiere looking anything less than fabulous!”

  “Pretending to be you at Laurent Lumiere? Are you kidding?” My voice hitched with panic, and I began to pace. “Soph, we’re nothing alike.”

  “Spare me, Leah! We’re identical!” Her voice cracked. “I’ll lose the job. You must know how much this means to me.”