TEMPORARY MATES PERMANENT CRAVINGS novel Chapter 329

Three hundred and twenty-nine

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Anita’s shrill laughter rang from Emma’s office, and guilt squeezed my chest until my heart raced. It hadn’t been this bad before Wesley and I got involved, but now it tore at me. Anita still treated me the same, and I didn’t think that would change anytime soon.

“Bella, Emma needs you in her office,” Chloe said.

I swallowed a groan.

Harrison stopped typing and looked toward my desk. I gave him a small nod before heading to the office.

Emma already wore a knowing smile when I walked in.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” Anita said, turning her chair toward me. She grinned and gave me a slow once- over before seeming to forget what she wanted to say.

Emma and I exchanged a look.

“Can you stop harassing my staff with your eyes?”

Anita snapped out of it and laughed.

I noticed her hair had changed. The silver was gone, replaced by bright purple, with dark roots peeking through.

“I know your department has changed and you’re extremely busy now, but my gala outfit was so good that I need you to design a few more pieces for me.”

“Of course,” I said, smiling back. “It’s not a problem at all.”

I glanced at Emma. She shrugged.

“As long as it doesn’t affect your work here.”

“It’s not free,” Anita said to me. “You get paid handsomely for every service.”

She opened her gemstone-covered purse and pulled out a bundle of notes.

I frowned at the money she held out. “Is that for the fabric?”

“I have the fabric.”

“Then I can’t take it. That’s too much.”

“See? She even knows you’re trying to buy her heart with your money, you hopeless romantic,” Emma said with a laugh.

Anita glared at her.

“Fine. Use it to get something for yourself and your son.”

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I shook my head.

“Luna Lisa has already done more than enough for me. I’d be stupid to take payment for helping her daughter.”

Anita sighed and lowered the money.

“I just hate having my gifts rejected.”

The words sounded simple, but something in her expression made me think she meant more than the money in her hand.

She said she’d bring the fabrics the next day so I could choose the styles. I braced myself for another uncomfortable encounter.

The next day, she sent for me again. I opened her office door and came face-to-face with Barbara.

If Anita hadn’t already seen me, I would have turned around.

“There you are,” Anita said, pointing to a table covered in fabrics.

More than six fabrics lay spread across it. Anita walked me through her ideas while I noted the details for a couple of pieces.

“I trust your instincts,” she said. “You know my style, so I know you’ll make them work.”

“What happened to your mother’s team?” Barbara asked. “They make the best outfits.”

Anita laughed. “They make the best outfits for my mother. I don’t want those ridiculous long dresses. Isabella knows my style, and she’s very good at designing things that actually look good on me.”

The compliment made me shift uncomfortably, especially with Barbara sitting there.

I caught the nasty look she shot me.

“That’s very unlike you,” Barbara said. “Giving an inexperienced stranger your designs to make for you.”

“She’s good, Barbara,” Anita countered.

Barbara narrowed her eyes. “Maybe you’re exaggerating.”

“Maybe I am,” Anita said with a laugh. She glanced at me, something playful flashing in her eyes. “I just like her.”

My fingers tightened around my pen.

“She has such a beautiful face. If I could turn into a man for a day, I’d probably have to court her properly.”

Barbara grimaced.

“Ew.”

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I wished the floor would swallow me.

Anita only laughed.

“You don’t even know her.”

“Neither do you.”

She was right.

That was what made me uncomfortable. Anita was practically advertising her attraction to me in front of Barbara, giving her another reason to target me.

I looked down at the fabrics.

I needed to finish and get out.

“Anyway,” Anita said, turning back to me, “ignore her. She’s just not in a good mood. She’s usually not

like this.”

I doubted Anita knew even a fraction of how cruel Barbara could be.

“What are you doing on the night of my mother’s gala?” Anita asked.

I pretended not to hear and kept writing.

“Isabella, I was talking to you.”

I looked up. “Sorry. I was concentrating.”

“I know,” she said, smiling. “I asked what you’re doing on the night of my mother’s gala.”

“The gala?”

“Yes. My mother gave me five slots for friends, and I’d like you to come.”

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