#LUCKY (The Empire Series Book 2) by Nicole Hite Read Free Book Online Page B

matter, she still hadn't heard a word from Declan. Perhaps this explains his desire not to reach out. Sam was no dog, but compared to this girl, she was struggling. She couldn't compete with those insane legs.
    "Sweet, Jesus that's her," Quinn spoke up.
    "Who?" Sam grilled, trying frantically to pull herself away from ogling the two.
    "Demi Pepper. You know, the whole reason we are here," Quinn stated very matter of fact.
    "You mean that vixen right there?" Sam tried to discreetly point out the hellion in heels.
    "Is that the mysterious Mr. Flannery she was chatting with?" Quinn requested as Demi and Declan parted ways.
    "Regrettably, yes," Sam acknowledged as they made their way to the Fashion department. There wasn't a bone in her body that wanted to talk to this girl. She had single handedly ruined Sam's perfect day.
    Well fuck me. Just perfect!
        "Come on. We have a task at hand," Sam encouraged as she and Quinn made their way to the Design Laboratory.
        Finally making their way to the studio, Sam was zeroed in on Demi and her team of minions. There was an air of confidence about her that Sam found absolutely threatening.
        "Hi, I'm Sam," she introduced herself as Demi looked at her with a curious look on her face.
        "Hi, Sam," she replied as if everyone on the planet should already know who she was.
        "I'm Quinn, and we are here to interview for Empire Magazine."
        "Yes, we are doing a column next month on your rise to fame. Would you have a couple minutes to speak with us?
    "Sure, I guess a minute wouldn't hurt," she responded with such condemnation it annoyed Sam.
        She already despised the girl with her slutty moves toward Declan, how was she going to do a piece praising the trollop?
        Demi escorted them to a lounge area carved out of a section of the studio. Sitting on the flush, purple couch, Sam crossed her legs, and salvaged her notepad from her bag.
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    A ssembling across the couch in a giant armchair, Demi sat on the edge, ready to make her escape. She had no intention of sitting there for long, which was pretty insulting in Sam's book. Empire was one of the biggest fashion magazines out there, and she could barely spare a few minutes to speak with them.
        "So, what do you want to know?" Demi asked as she rested her elbows on her knees leaning forward.
        "Well, for starters what made you want to become a designer?" Sam looked at Demi, analyzing every detail of her face, her body, and even her arrogance. Just above her perfectly manicured right brow was a scar, shattering her perfect existence. Her lips weren't as plush as Sam's were, but rosier nonetheless. She had strands of purple scattered in her curls, yet they did nothing for her pale skin.
        "I like to think it's engrained in me. Ever since I was a child, I was very meticulous when it came to my doll's style. My mother used to question if something was wrong with me considering I didn't act like other children my age."
        Demi's words went straight in and out of Sam's ears. What she really wanted to know was what the hell she was doing with Declan.
        "You seem really committed to your dreams, I suppose it makes it hard to have a relationship with anyone." Sam didn't know why she detoured the conversation, she just...did.
        "I do alright. I'm sort of seeing someone right now, but we need to keep it on the down low," Demi blushed suddenly more animated then when they arrived.
        "Are they also in the fashion industry?" Quinn asked knowing right well what her answer would be. Quinn really was a great wing woman in this situation.
        "Oh, hell no. Far from it," she smirked knowing she had a secret that she was not going to blab to a nationally recognized magazine editor.
        Sam was cautious to ask Demi out right if she was seeing Declan. She didn't want to seem like a stalker, especially since she had zero claims to him. First her, then that Ashley chick, now