The Billionaire's Dangerous Redemption (by Claire Winters) novel Chapter 152

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152 The Model’s Unexpected Confession

Hazel’s POV 1

The car crawled through evening traffic. Sebastian sat beside me, his profile illuminated by passing streetlights. After scolding Cora, he’d maintained a careful distance between us.

I cleared my throat, breaking the awkward silence. “Is the air conditioning too strong for anyone else?”

Sebastian glanced at me. “Would you like me to adjust it?”

“No, it’s fine. Just making conversation.” I rubbed my arms reflexively.

Cora, who had been “sleeping” against the window, suddenly perked up. “I’m perfectly

comfortable!”

Sebastian shot her a knowing look. “For someone who was deeply asleep five seconds ago, you certainly responded quickly.”

Cora’s cheeks flushed. “I wasn’t really asleep.”

“Obviously,” Sebastian and I said simultaneously.

We exchanged surprised glances, then both laughed. The tension in the car evaporated instantly.

“You two are mean,” Cora pouted, but her eyes sparkled with mischief.

“And you’re transparent,” Sebastian countered. “Next time you plot something, try being less obvious.”

I appreciated him calling out her matchmaking attempt. At least we could acknowledge the elephant in the car.

“Speaking of upcoming events,” I said, changing the subject, “I need to start working on designs for the university anniversary celebration. Vera mentioned you’re attending

too?”

Sebastian nodded. “The Sinclair family has supported the business school for generations.” He turned slightly toward me. “Are you designing something special?”

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The Model’s Unexpected

“Two outfits, actually. The university asked me to contribute to their alumni fashion show.” I smoothed my dress. “It’s an honor, considering some big names will be

participating.”

“That’s wonderful,” Cora chimed in. “Will you be modeling your own designs?”

I

shook my head. “No, I’ll be backstage. Professional models will wear my pieces.”

Sebastian studied me with those intense blue eyes. “You could easily be a model yourself. You have the height and certainly the looks for it.”

Heat crept up my neck at his direct compliment. “Actually, I did some modeling in college.”

“Really?” Cora leaned forward, suddenly interested.

I nodded, memories flooding back. “I needed money for supplies and didn’t want to ask my father or Alistair. Modeling paid well for relatively few hours of work.”

Sebastian’s expression darkened at the mention of Alistair’s name, but he quickly recovered. “What kind of modeling?”

“Mostly local boutique catalogs, some department store advertisements.” I smiled at the memory. “Nothing high-fashion.”

“I bet you were amazing,” Cora said.

I laughed. “I was adequate. Tall enough to make clothes look good, and I could follow directions.”

“You’re being modest,” Sebastian said quietly.

His confidence in me was touching, but he didn’t know the whole story. I stared out the window, remembering that phase of my life.

I had been twenty, determined to pay my own way through design school despite coming from money. My father had cut me off after I refused to switch to business, and I’d been too proud to let Alistair cover everything. The modeling gigs had started by chance when a photographer spotted me at a campus café.

“Did you ever consider pursuing it professionally?” Cora asked.

I shook my head. “I tried, actually. During junior year, a scout from a major agency

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152 The Model’s Unexpected Confession

approached me after a local fashion show.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“I went to New York for a callback. They liked my look but…” I paused, unsure why I was sharing this story.

“But what?” Cora prompted.

I sighed. “I wasn’t quite right for high fashion.”

“Their loss,” Sebastian said firmly.

His defense warmed me, though he had no idea why I’d been rejected.

“The agent was actually quite nice about it,” I continued. “She said I had a beautiful face and good height, but my proportions weren’t ideal for runway.”

Cora frowned. “What does that even mean?”

I laughed softly. “It means I’m too curvy for sample sizes.”

Sebastian’s eyes briefly dropped to my figure before snapping back to my face. The flash of appreciation in his gaze sent heat coursing through me.

“The fashion industry has ridiculous standards,” Cora declared.

“It’s just business,” I shrugged. “Runway models need to be essentially walking hangers so the clothes hang perfectly. Designers make samples in size two or zero.”

“And you weren’t small enough?” Cora looked incredulous.

I smiled ruefully. “I could maintain the required measurements except for one area.”

Sebastian cleared his throat, looking suddenly uncomfortable with the direction of the

conversation.

“My bust,” I said matter-of-factly, feeling a perverse pleasure in Sebastian’s discomfort. “The agent said I’d never fit properly into high-fashion samples without binding, which would create other fit issues.”

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