Ghosts of Christmas - Kenya Wright Page 0,2

a strapless red gown that was embellished with crystals. A few gasps came from the front row. I tried to see who made the sound, but the audience represented a blur of onlooking faces. The model continued down the runaway. Photographers snapped. Cameras flashed.

My stomach twisted.

After the fashion show, more would come this evening. The whole gala included a dinner attended by 300 A-list guests and an auction for these designer pieces.

They’ll love it and spend tons of money.

My fingers shook.

The fashion show continued. All the models went out with no mishaps. Second outfits came next. I exhaled and Park stopped fidgeting next to me. By the third outfits, I bit my nails and forced myself to stop.

Almost over.

Once again, I squinted to check some of the faces in the audience, hoping they were dazzled enough with this collection to donate big bucks. These would be exclusive items that could only be purchased through the gala.

My phone rang. I groaned.

Who the hell would call at this time? Everyone knows what I’m doing.

I pulled out my phone and checked.

Dad: I’m so impressed with all the clothes.

My heart seized in my chest. I almost dropped the phone. Another text came.

Dad: This is beautiful. As always, I am proud of you.

Leave me alone.

I had to calm myself before I started hyperventilating. Frowning, I shut the phone off.

Nervousness filled Park’s voice. “Is there a problem?”

“No.”

“Oh.” She blinked. “You look upset.”

“It’s just. . .”

“Anything that I could help you with?”

“No. I’m pretty sure my dad is in the audience.”

She widened her eyes. “Wow. Where?”

“Doesn’t matter. I can’t think about that now.” I walked off and headed to the edge of the curtain. The last few models were returning from the stage.

When are you going to give up? I don’t want you in my life and that’s it. Accept it!

All the models lined up to stroll the catwalk together.

Just pretend like he isn’t here.

I exhaled and headed out for the finale. Usually, this would be the most exhilarating moment. But with my father here, I couldn’t wait to get off the stage.

Leave me alone.

Models flanked me on both sides. Strolling forward, I forced a smile and waved. The audience stood and clapped for me.

After the show, more photographers hurried backstage and took pictures. Cameras were everywhere. Near the makeup area, a celebration party started. Park and the others offered glasses of champagne to the entire team.

Fucking asshole.

My eyes watered. Pain filled my chest.

Park looked my way. “Ivy, do you want some. . .”

I stomped off.

You couldn’t just let me have one moment. You know how rough it is for me during Christmas time. Why would you keep bothering me?

Park hurried after me. “Ivy?”

I continued toward the back exit of the church. “I have to go.”

“Go? But the dinner and auction—”

“That’s why I hire a huge team so if things come up or I’m sick, then the show still goes on.”

Still holding two glasses of champagne, Park got to my side and rushed with me. “But are you sick?”

“Yes.”

Skepticism covered her face.

My hands shook from anger. I took out my phone. “Be ready in the morning. Are you packed?”

“Uh. . .so. . .about the whole holiday wedding. . .my. . .um. . .my friends are visiting and. . .I thought maybe. . .”

Pulling out my phone, I stopped and looked at her. “What?”

“Well. . .” She sighed.

I turned my phone on. “I know Christmas is this week, but we’re too busy to take off. I would cancel going to this wedding, but Holly is my best friend and I’m the maid of honor. Meanwhile, we have to pay the bills. So, you’ll be at the airport in the morning?”

She nodded. “I’m packed.”

“Good.” I spotted more text messages from Dad and deleted each one without reading them. “Thank God you’ll be there to help me keep up with work. I’ll need you.”

She frowned. “Yeah.”

“See you in the morning.” I headed off and typed one of the guys I usually called in stressful moments.

Me: Hey.

Red: How was your event?

Me: Never mind that. Let’s fuck. Your place.

Red: When?

Me: I’ll be there in ten minutes.

Red: See you then.

Of all my fuckboys, Red was the most dependable. I called him Red because there was no need to remember his name. I nicknamed all my fuckboys after colors. When I met this one, he wore a red shirt over his muscular chest. He was a model that had black hair, green eyes, and a dimple that showed when he orgasmed. Other than that,