Julia Young has learned that life is a game of power-either you take it or make others do your bidding. She rose from a shattered childhood to become a world-renowned model, but the cost of success was steep.
Nolan Miller, a dangerously charming bu...
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"Some men are truly boys"
Julia-
Waking up, I grab my phone, and the time flashes: 6:30.
Groaning, I roll out of bed and head to the bathroom to get ready. After a quick shower and shaving, I follow my skincare routine. Once I'm done, I walk into my closet to find something comfortable. I settle on high-waisted fitted palazzo pants and a white turtleneck.
Leaving my closet, I head straight to my makeup table and apply some light makeup. After finishing up, I spritz on some perfume and slide into my all-black pointy Prada heels. I grab my Prada handbag, double-checking that my laptop is inside, and collect my phone and AirPods. With everything in hand, I walk out of my room and head downstairs.
I've been stuck in my office for about three hours, doing mind-numbing tasks like filling out forms, approving random sick days, and dealing with people who think they can dictate how I run my company.
Just as I'm drowning in paperwork, the phone rings for the 28th time. Yes, I counted.
Sighing, I pick it up, greeted by Amber's voice.
"Yes?" I ask, trying to sound professional.
"There's someone here to see you," she replies.
"Does this someone have a name?" I ask, hoping it's not Nolan.
"Yes," she answers.
"Well, fucking tell me," I say, frustration seeping into my tone.
"Otis Evans," she says.
Fucking hell, I mutter under my breath.
"Let him up," I say, hanging up and returning to my papers.
A few minutes later, I hear a knock at the door.
"Come in," I call. The door opens to reveal Otis Evans, dressed in black jeans, a white tank top, and a flannel shirt. His blond hair looks perfect, and I can smell his Christian Dior Sauvage perfume from across the room.
"Nice to see you, Julia," he says, standing by the door.
Seizing the moment, I walk over and give him a brief hug before shutting the door.
"It's nice to see you too, Otis. Please, have a seat," I say, leaning against the corner of my desk.
"It's a nice building you have," he comments.
"Thank you, but I don't mean to be rude, what exactly do you want? I really do have papers that need filling out," I reply, feeling my patience thin.
"Well, I came here to ask you something," he says, his tone shifting slightly.
"I came to ask you on a date," he says, and I sit there, momentarily shocked.
No way.
"I'm very flattered, but—" I begin, but he cuts me off.
"It's just one date, Julia. It's not going to be fancy or anything; please, I'm begging you. Just go on this date with me," he implores, sincerity etched in his features.
"Fine," I say, crossing my arms to hide my surprise.
"Great! I'll pick you up at 8," he says, turning to leave, but I stop him.
"What color are you going to wear?" I ask, curious.
"Black," he replies, and with that, he leaves.
"Great," I mutter to myself, returning to my work.
Looking at the time, I see it's now 6:50, so I decide to get ready. Heading upstairs into my room, I go straight to my closet and search for something to wear. After a few minutes, I finally spot a stunning black dress that a designer sent me. I choose that dress and pair it with my all-black YSL heels, opting for my YSL purse instead of my Prada bag.
Walking out of my closet, I lay everything on my bed and head toward the bathroom. I turn on the shower, undress, and tie my hair up. Thankfully, I already shaved this week, so I don't need to again. With that, I step into the shower, letting the hot, steaming water envelop me.
After my long, hot shower, I curl my hair, finishing just in time to head to my makeup table. I decide to keep it simple: two false lashes and a coat of lip gloss later, I'm finally satisfied with my look. I zip up my dress, which fits a little short but not too short, put in my earrings, and spray on some more perfume. I grab my purse and phone before heading downstairs.
her outfit:
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Heading downstairs, I check my phone: it's currently 7:50. I use the remaining time to respond to emails.
I finish the last email and hit send when my phone rings. An unknown number flashes on the screen. After a moment of contemplation, I decided to answer it.
"Hello?" I say.
"I'm here," a familiar voice responds—Otis.
"I'll be right out," I reply, hanging up. Grabbing my purse, I head toward the front door. After making sure the door is locked, I open the gate with the remote and spot Otis's car: a sleek white G-Wagon. As I approach the car, Otis steps out, making his way toward me.
"You look gorgeous," he says, planting a light kiss on my cheek.
"Thank you! You don't look too bad yourself," I respond, and he laughs, walking to the passenger side and opening the door for me.
"Thank you," I say as I slide into the seat, fastening my seatbelt. Otis gets in beside me, buckling up, and before we drive off, he asks what kind of music I'd like to listen to.