From Mob Princess to Mugshot Photographer novel Chapter 113

**Chapter 10**

I found myself yielding to the moment, my body responding almost instinctively.

In the enveloping darkness, my senses heightened, alive with anticipation. The aroma of citrus intertwined with the earthy scent of cedar, and then River’s voice, a soft whisper, brushed against my ear: “Hold out your hand.”

A cool, luxurious silk glided into my palm, its texture unfamiliar yet enticing. When I finally dared to open my eyes, a breathtaking gradient of blue fabric lay before me, undulating gracefully under the soft light, reminiscent of moonlit waves scattered with delicate silver threads.

“Hand-dyed Italian silk,” River declared, his tone laced with pride. “Only three pieces left in the world.”

His fingers danced along the edge of the fabric, as if trying to coax out its secrets.

“Do you think you’re brave enough to use this for your Fashion Week opening look?” he asked, a challenge glimmering in his eyes.

“What if I screw it up…?” I hesitated, the weight of responsibility pressing down on me.

“Don’t worry,” he reassured, his grip tightening around my trembling wrist, warmth radiating through the fabric. “If you crash, we’ll crash together.”

His words wrapped around me like a protective cocoon, and I felt a flicker of courage ignite within. “Chloe, you need to trust that your wings can create storms,” he urged, his gaze steady and unwavering.

The night before Fashion Week was a whirlwind of chaos, and I found myself tangled in lace backstage, the delicate fabric threatening to ensnare me completely.

The dressing room door swung open with a creak, and there stood River, leaning casually against the frame, a playful whistle escaping his lips. “Need a knight to rescue the damsel?”

I shot him a teasing glare. “Your knight complex is misplaced, River.”

A blush crept up my cheeks as I wrestled with my hair caught in the intricate lace, but he firmly pressed my wrist down, an unexpected authority in his touch.

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