Chapter 1787
No.1
Victoria’s gaze turned icy. She stared at the assistant in disbelief. “You’re Harrison Winslow’s assistant?”
Prince Harrison Winslow personally preparing clam chowder for Isabella Montgomery? Impossible! Dominic Sterling, Nathaniel Blackwood's assistant, froze in disbelief. He met Isabella's icy stare, a silent warning that sent chills down his spine. Nathaniel's orders echoed in his mind: 'Comply with her every request.'
He straightened his posture. "Yes, my chairman is indeed Prince Harrison Winslow."
Victoria Kensington went rigid. She had envisioned seducing this mysterious chairman, twisting him to her will. Instead, Isabella had humiliated her publicly once more. Heat flooded Victoria's cheeks, her heart hammering against her ribs. "Isadora," she stammered, her voice tight, "assist me to the changing room. The final shot must be ready."
"Absolutely! Your dedication to work is unparalleled, Victoria. Unlike others who prioritize...indulgence," Isadora Vasquez retorted, shooting a venomous glare toward Isabella before guiding Victoria away.
Isabella simply rolled her eyes, dismissing them. She handed the container back to Dominic. "Inform him his deliveries are no longer required. He should focus his attention where it truly belongs." She had accepted Nathaniel's gestures twice now, yet the thought of him lavishing effort on her while neglecting Christopher soured her impression. Since returning, her focus was business, not romance.
Dominic deemed silence the wisest course. He gave a curt nod and departed.
Whispers erupted among the crew. What did Isabella's words imply? It sounded as though Prince Harrison had developed feelings for her, and she was nobly reminding him to remain devoted to his wife, Princess Arabella. How admirably principled.
Isabella ignored their speculative stares and headed to her changing room.
No.2
•••
This was the final outfit, destined for the magazine cover. A duo shoot was far more complex than solo portraits. It demanded individual excellence while simultaneously overshadowing your partner to command the spotlight.
Victoria had meticulously prepared, perfecting her makeup. When she saw Isabella emerge in a deep crimson gown, a smug smile touched her lips.
The dress was a rich, blood-red. Puffed short sleeves, a square neckline hugging the collarbone, and a voluminous skirt of layered mesh. Though opulently French-inspired, it felt heavy, out of sync with the summer theme.
In stark contrast, Victoria wore a light avocado green sleeveless mini-dress. Delicate lace adorned the shoulders, exuding sweet delicacy. A subtle V-neck offered a hint of cleavage. The most daring feature was the triangular cut-out at the waist, exposing a sliver of pale stomach and her navel. The effect was playfully alluring.
Side-by-side, Victoria's dress was clearly the covetable piece. The manager announced, "The flamingo is your prop. Pose freely, but maintain harmony."
"Understood," Victoria purred. She approached the flamingo, gracefully straddling it. Her legs stretched out, the short skirt riding up to showcase their long, toned length. Angled slightly toward the camera, the pose accentuated her chest curve and the strategic cut-out.
She leaned casually against the prop, embodying a fresh-faced, lovable ingenue. A wave of applause broke from the team.
"Exquisite! Pure perfection! Don't move a muscle, Ms. Kensington! Hold that pose!" the photographer exclaimed excitedly. He turned to Isabella. "Ms. Montgomery, complement Ms. Kensington's pose. Just ensure you don't disrupt her."
No.3
'Don't disrupt her.' Victoria's heart soared. Isabella would be relegated to the background, forced to find some pathetic pose that merely framed Victoria's brilliance. There was no way Isabella could outshine her now. She was destined to fade into obscurity next to Victoria's radiant display.
Colette Duvall watched Isabella Montgomery with deep concern.
Anxiety twisted inside her.
What was Isabella planning? Could she perform miracles? This seemed utterly impossible.
Meanwhile, Victoria Kensington sat gracefully upon a flamingo float.
A sweet, practiced smile adorned her face.
She resembled an ethereal fairy, blissfully unaware of the mounting tension.
The avocado green and pink flamingo created a perfect, vibrant contrast.
The aesthetic was so pleasing it almost made one forget the oppressive midsummer heat.
No.4
In stark contrast, Isabella wore a voluminous red top paired with a loose, floor-length skirt.
She was completely covered up. Not an inch of skin on her chest or legs was visible.
How could she possibly outperform Victoria like this?
The watching crowd buzzed with curiosity.
Isabella, however, remained utterly nonchalant.
She turned to Victoria, her voice cool. "Are you absolutely certain about this pose? You won't regret it?"
"Of course," Victoria replied, her tone dripping with subtle sarcasm. "Why? Can't you think of anything better?"
Isabella simply sighed, offering no retort.
In one fluid motion, she swung a leg over the same horizontal flamingo.
No.5
She settled directly behind Victoria.
The long, heavy skirt restricted her movement, forcing her legs together.
It looked stifling and awkward.
A collective sigh of disappointment rippled through the onlookers. This seemed like a certain loss.
Then, something unexpected happened.
Isabella reached out and firmly placed her hands on Victoria's shoulders.
Her face was a mask of stoic elegance.
She shifted her weight onto her arms, leveraging herself.
The move was executed with shocking grace and precision.
No.6
The crowd gasped. Isabella had effectively turned Victoria into a mere prop, a human coffee table.
It was a brilliant, audacious move.
"Let's shoot," Isabella commanded, her voice cutting through the stunned silence.
The photographer jolted back to attention.
He quickly adjusted his viewfinder, lens focusing on the extraordinary pair.
Gabriella Martinez had considered intervening.
But she held back.
Isabella's dress, despite the clever pose, was still overwhelmingly heavy and complex.
Layers of mesh and netting. Who would ever buy it?
No.7
Isabella's expression was captivating, fierce.
But Victoria was classically beautiful, photogenic.
This contest was about sales, not just drama.
How could Isabella possibly win?
Gabriella stayed silent.
"Begin!" the photographer called out. "Give me your best!"
He raised his camera, finger poised over the shutter.
In that split second, Isabella used her free hand.
She flung the heavy fabric of her skirt backward with dramatic force.