6. YOU DON'T OWN ME

“Starr?"

The sound of her voice, saying my name, sent a shiver down my spine. I snapped to attention, flashing my most dazzling smile.

Remember who you are, girl. You’re no lightweight!. You shouldn't slouch!. I cautioned and reminded myself.

Still red with awe, Celine quickly brought out her cellphone from her purse.

"Could I grab a quick photo with you? She requested and then continued, " I can’t believe you're actually here in Atlanta in flesh and blood! And it’s so crazy, such perfect timing—we’re urgently looking for a couturier where I work."

She was almost breathless, and for split seconds, I had a moment of clarity - a realization of how life can change in the blink of an eye. Who would have imagined that Celine, of all people, would be fawning over me now? The girl who once meant nothing has become someone of importance.

I caught Richard's gaze that instant before his eyes darted away. He'd been staring all this while, but not at me, at George rather, and it made me wonder. He tapped his fingers on his pant and made an inaudible sigh.

“My creative director will be as surprised as I am when he gets to meet you." Celine broke again into my thought.

As she thrust the phone inches to my face, memories of the cruelty she had put me through flooded my mind, I recollected the past events, everything I had gone through in the hands of Celine - her hands yanking my hair, her wish for my death and the brutal push that nearly cost my life. My desire for revenge came fresh.

"Ahem!" I cleared my throat.

“I'll do this with you some other time, Missus. You look so beautiful."

“It's my pleasure to meet you." I stretched my right hand forward, and watched her disappointed face give a weak smile.

She took my hand, placing a card in my palm as she spoke, “Same here. I'd love to meet with you again. There, my card."

She giggled, "but I might meet you again sooner than exp--"

“Celine, it's time to go," Richard's voice broke in, and I fought the urge to let out a chuckle.

Her face reflected so much anger and resentment. It was obvious she was looking at Richard with spite.

I took a brief look at the card and it showed Celine's occupation as an actress and model. Wow!. An actress who worked in Richardson Production, Richard's company. A model for Luxe Icon Agency.

Does Celine know how Richard hates idolizing public figures? Funny he's still standing right there with her. That never happened when we were married. I could recall the time he walked out on me, cutting me off mid sentence because I was raving about a bigger artiste I admired. He called that 'yapping'.

Yes. Richard was arrogant sometimes.

“Snugglebug," George chimed in softly, drawing the couple's lingering eyes on us.

I didn't expect that.

My breath caught in my throat, my lips parted, and I couldn't help but widen my eyes. Did George just call me that?

“Beloved," he went on to affirm my thoughts, offering an open palm to me.

"You're not typically one for late nights. How about we head home?"

Our eyes met once again and he winked. I felt a warmth fill my chest, heat crept to my neck, and I quickly fixed my gaze on the floor to hide the pink that has bloomed across my face. One second in, and I was cautioning myself. Richard and Celine were present. George had never asked me out. It's just a game I should play, too.

I cleared my throat and took George's hand. “Sure, we should!. I'm tired already."

I looked forward, but I couldn't suppress the smile that tugged on my lips.

When we stood up, George's kiss on my fingers were both gentle and intimate and Celine's words were sharp.

“Exactly! Did you see that, Richard? That's how real men speak to their women! With some respect! Not by barking orders at me like I am some lowly servant at your beck and call, or like you own me!"

"You don't own me!" She spat and in a flash, we could only hear her stilettos clanging on the restaurant's polished floor.

Jeez.

George and I followed suit.

Walking past Richard, I took a close glimpse at him. He adjusted his collar and rubbed the back of his neck, a habit I know he observes when he is highly embarrassed. It was so pathetic and I felt pity for him, especially when I spotted his gaunter face, pale skin and the creases on his forehead. Celine did him dirty, I guess, but I'm back to be the best woman for him. He should watch and see.

***

I met Diamond when we got back to George's villa. She was a sweet, petite, blonde-haired girl, quite gentle and reserved. She bore traces of George in her refined features; the well sculpted nose, charming dimples and dreamy eyes. Twice, she avoided my gaze and held onto her dress, but she didn't mince words in telling me how happy she was to have met me in person.

"I told Diamond, my mom's the popular Starr Griffins, and she doubted me. Now, where's the lie?" My audacious son teased, flashing a cheeky smile as I affectionately ruffled his hair.

"It's late, and both of you should be tucked in and dreaming. What’s keeping you awake?"

They both stared at me with no words. Diamond remained adamant.

“I love the dress you make, ma'am. I'd love to be like you in the future," she retorted, still clenching to her dress.

I saw George smile as he walked down the well pitted staircase. He had gone ahead to get a change of clothes while I conversed with the kids for over thirty minutes.

"Just call me Starr, Dee. The ma'am sounds too formal," I insisted, and the children giggled.

“You'd like to be a fashion designer. Not a doctor? A lawyer, perhaps?"

George answered the question instead. "Diamond has been like this since five. Crazy about fashion and fashion magazines. Can you believe I got her a high end gadget for her last birthday, and she told me straight to my face that she would have preferred a DIY fashion kit, personalized clothing or sketchbooks?"

He let out a loud sigh and took a sip from the bottle of water he held.

“Is that so, Diamond?" I asked with a chuckle.

The little girl covered her face.

"My mom also feels I'm too young to get a gear, a hoop or training equipments for basketball! She only let me get tickets to watch others play," Jayden remarked with furrowed brows.

It didn’t surprise me to hear my loud-mouthed son say that.

"Come over here, little man," George requested, and Jayden walked over to him.

"How old is he again?"

"I'm ten, Mr. George! And I'm not a little man," he rebuffed.

"Easy..." George said with a short laugh.

"Jay!" I cautioned him.

George interceded, "It's fine. I love our bold Jayden here and Diamond is nine."

Jayden's eyes sparkled with excitement, "Yay! That makes me her big brother," he declared.

George and I shared a glace, his statement clearly catching us off guard.

"It's just a one year difference, but that won't be bad," Diamond retorted next.

Thanks to George for saving the situation. I was feeling awkward already.

"It's quite late, kids. You both should hit the bed!"

"A little more time with Miss Starr, daddy!. Pleasseee" Diamond opted, joining her palms together.

"No. Some other time, honey. There's always another day. Besides, Starr isn't leaving soon," he maintained, giving her a peck on her forehead.

"All we have to do now is SLEEP. I'll lead you to your room, and I'll make sure Jayden settles comfortably in his."

"Are you sure you don't need a peck, Jayden?" George asked jocularly.

"Ewww" Jayden cringed in disgust and I watched Diamond laugh wholeheartedly.

It was cute to see the children bond with each other, as well as with George and I. I'm sure George felt the same way too, as he never stopped smiling as he led the children to their rooms.

I ran my eyes around the living room where I stood. It exuded a sense of luxury and refinement. With my arms folded tightly beneath my chest, I admired the rich tapestry of the deep emerald walls and the polished marble floor.

A plush, velvet sofa in white dominated the space in George's home, surrounded by rare, hand-carved sculptures and an elaborate, gold-framed mirror.

Looking over the loft, George called at me. Turning to him, I caught his silly wink - the same one he had flashed at Savour and Spice, and it stirred a delightful flutter in my stomach.

There, my cheek was getting red again.

"You should have a shower too and rest your head," he suggested.