Hidden Darkness (Hidden Saga Book 4) Read Free Page B

and mine.
                  Her face went purple. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry.” She grabbed a stack of napkins and started frantically dabbing at my toes.
                  “Please don’t worry about it—it was my fault.” I squatted, grabbing a handful of napkins myself and swiping the floor, trying to help contain the disaster.
                  The intern—Claire, she’d said earlier—gasped. “Oh no, let me get it. You don’t need to do this.”
                  “Really, Claire. I’m fine. Looks like you got the worst of it,” I said, eyeing her wet pants legs and Chuck Taylors, which had been a light blue but were now a sickly brownish color.
                  “Ava—you are not a janitor.” Mother sniffed. “Get off the floor right now—you’ll make yourself even more disheveled. Let the girl clean it up. Wardrobe! Makeup! See to your model—she’ll be ruined.”
                  I did stand but not because I was worried over my appearance. Crossing the room to my purse, I dug out my wallet and went back to Claire, who was nearly in tears now, trying to gather the tumbled catering boxes.
                  Having just bought a pair of Chucks for myself, I knew how pricey they were. I also knew Claire couldn’t afford to replace hers—she was still in college, and her internship with Guillermo was unpaid.
                  “Here.” I pulled five twenties out of my wallet and pressed them into Claire’s hand. “This is for your shoes.” When she just stared dumbfounded at the cash in her hand, I added, “They’re really cute, and they look new. That tea and stuff is never going to wash out right—get some new ones.” Just to make sure she wouldn’t argue, I used a little Sway in my suggestion.
                  “Uh… thanks a lot,” she finally said. “These are my favorites.”
                  “Okay then.” I smiled at her.
                  “Okay,” she said, sounding a little dazed, and carried the rescued boxes to a table along one wall of the studio.
                  Taking care to avoid the sticky area on the floor, Mother rushed to my side and gripped my upper arm. She shot a worried glance over at Culley. “Was it really necessary for you to grovel on the floor with the help? And give her our money?” She wasn’t a fan of any humans, but she held particular disdain for those without power and influence. She probably assumed Culley felt the same. Which he probably did.
                  I yanked my arm out of her grasp. “Yes, Mother. It was necessary. I have to get back to work now.”
                  Struggling to tamp down my annoyance and calm my raging pulse, I walked back toward Culley, passing the makeup artist and the photographer’s assistant on the way. I caught a snatch of their whispered conversation.
                  “… stage mother… nightmare.”
                  I pretended not to hear them, but what they said was true. Thora Morten had earned quite a reputation for herself around the L.A. fashion scene. If I’d been human, I would probably be considered un-hire-able by this point.
                  I was a passably good model, and I worked hard, but pretty girls out here were a dime-a dozen. If you got a reputation for being difficult in any way, you didn’t get many bookings. My reputation was that I had the stage-mom-from-Hell. It was only thanks to her Sway and my own glamour smoothing things over that the jobs kept coming, including this one with Culley.
                  “How nice that your mum came for a visit,” he said when I reached him, his voice tinged with wicked amusement.
                  “Oh yes,” I muttered under my breath. “It’s wonderful to have her around when I’m trying to work.”
                  He