“Hey,” Candy said gently. “Are you okay? You’ve been moody since we arrived.”
Monica blinked, realizing Candy was talking to her. She forced a small smile.
“I’m fine.”
Candy didn’t look convinced, but nodded. “I think the models are about to come out.”
“Okay.”
Monica tried to focus, but her mind drifted again. Back to Spencer. Back to the way his arm had slid around Adriana’s waist like it belonged there.
Were they a thing now?
She hadn’t asked. And she had no right to be this irritated. But it sat in her chest anyway—tight and sharp.
She closed her eyes briefly. The frustration only grew. So what? Because she slapped him, he went running into someone else's arms?
She crossed her legs and adjusted her seat, staring ahead.
“Oh my God. That’s Greg Holland,” Rose suddenly squealed, nearly jumping out of her seat as the first model appeared.
The lights shifted. Music kicked in. The runway glowed.
Greg walked with precision, camera flashes bouncing off his sharp jawline and scu
