Page 24 of Dissolving Prejudice

Especially to him.

My phone tinged when a message came in. Since I’d stopped at a red light, I checked to see who it was from. An unknown number had sent me a picture, and I was stupid enough to open it. My cheeks heated up immediately as my arousal kicked in at the image Camilo sent of his strong, veiny hand grabbing himself over his running shorts. After gaping at the picture for a good minute, I read the text he’d added.

Now he needs a kiss to make the pain go away <3.

My dick jerked in my pants, and I had to squeeze myself to make it calm the fuck down. I hated that this part betrayed me, yet again. I’d hardly been able to function sexually since my attack. Sure, sometimes I managed to get it up, but sex was hardly a part of my life anymore, and yet, all it took was one stupid picture from this traitor, and my dick was all but hard and ready to go. Pissed beyond words, I tossed my phone onto the passenger seat. “Two can play this game, motherfucker,” I muttered, tightening my grip on the steering wheel. “Just wait and see, Camilo Goméz. I will fucking demolish you.”

Shay-Lee

Unknown number: Good Morning, Gorgeous.

Unknown number: What’s your plan for today?

Unknown number: I think I’m going to the beach. Wanna join me?

Unknown number: My balls still hurt, btw.

Unknown number: Look at that. It’s already noon, and you’ve yet to answer me. Wanna grab lunch?

Unknown number: I’m craving avocado toast like crazy.

Unknown number: I’m also craving your ass.

*Unknown number sent a picture*

Unknown number: Looks delicious, right?

Unknown number: Too bad you weren’t there to taste it.

Unknown number: We can go there together sometime this week.

Unknown number: How about we go to yoga again?

Unknown number: I think the instructor was into me.

Unknown number: I might get in free.

Looking at my phone, I rolled my eyes so hard they nearly stuck in the back of my head. This was just a typical day with Camilo. I never realized how desperate that man could actually be, enough to send me over fifty texts a day. My phone was buzzing nonstop, which made it incredibly hard to focus on my work. The stupid device just buzzed again, and irritated, I snapped the sketching pencil I held in two. Taking a deep breath, I shut off my phone and shoved it into my desk drawer.

Camilo was one persistent bitch, I’d give him that, but at least he’d stopped stalking me for the last three days. Instead, he flooded my phone with meaningless texts. Like yesterday, when he sent me a detailed description of everything he’d eaten, starting from the ingredients in his morning smoothie to the vegan wings he cooked for dinner, made from mushrooms. Why the fuck would I care about boiling your mushrooms first before frying them? I didn’t, and yet, Camilo sent me a voice message about how he boils them and what oil he uses to fry them.

“White noise, Shay-Lee. White noise,” I said to myself before grabbing a new pencil and flipping to a new page in my sketchbook.

Last year, thanks to Miles’s dad, Elliot, I got an internship at Renieri, one of the biggest fashion houses in the world. Thanks to doing something right for a change, my internship turned into a full-time job. My biggest passions in life were football and fashion. After my injury, football was no longer an option, considering how I couldn’t walk for almost a year. Even now, standing for too long was hard for me.

For a long time, I had no intention of doing anything with my life. I preferred to stay at home and do nothing because what was the point? For the first two years after the trial had ended, whenever I stepped out of my house, I was followed by reporters and paparazzi who were dying to get my story. Since I had no intention of talking to them or anyone else, I’d just stayed home—hidden away from the world.

But things had changed, and my life was on a different path now. While Jordan helped me by simply being there, the one who truly pulled me out of the gutters was Soren. Other than Camilo, no one had ever understood me like he did. He was everything I wished to have while growing up. The true father figure I lacked. And while the time I spent with Soren made me mourn the love I never received from my own father, it also taught me so many things. Hours of conversation with him led me to make two big decisions that changed my life drastically. The first was meeting Blaire, my therapist. She was an old acquaintance of Soren’s, a fact that made it a lot easier for me to trust her. We met twice a week, sometimes more, and speaking to her was life-changing. The second decision was going to work. Coming here almost every day gave me some structure and a deep sense of self-fulfillment. Something I’d never felt while living under my father’s thumb. And although I’d made enormous progress, there was still so much work for me to go through. So much darkness I’d need to shed before I’d be able to step into the light. And if there was one thing I was sure of, it was that Camilo only brought back more darkness with him. Darkness from the past I so desperately wished to leave behind but knew I couldn’t. I couldn’t because my past followed me like a shadow.

Back to my sketchbook, I was working on a dress design for Renieri’s fashion week. Once a year, Renieri held a full week of fashion shows and events in which models and designers came from all around the world. This year, it would be held in the first week of summer, and Vito, the owner and head designer of Renieri, gave me one of the shows. It wasn’t on the main stage and would be a relatively short exhibit, but it would be all mine.

I bit my lip as a shiver ran down my spine with excitement. I was nervous, but I couldn’t wait for the time to fly. So far, I’d only come up with the concept. Spinning my swivel chair, I turned to face the wall where I had my inspiration board. All my sketches were of figures dressed in white—all but one, who was wearing black and was positioned right in the center. In the heart of my show. The idea came from a dream I’d had back while I was in the hospital. In my dream, a man in black stood in the middle of a white room. It was almost like the angel of death himself had come to pay me a visit. But just as he bent down to take me, I woke up, and he was gone. It was such a bizarre dream because what it left me with wasn’t dread but sadness. It took me a few days to understand what this sadness was—longing. Longing for that one missing piece of my heart.

It was a rather big concept for a fashion show, and I still had to figure out how to emphasize it through the clothes, but I’d get there. Vito seemed to love the idea when I pitched it to him last month, which also gave me a boost of confidence.

Someone knocked on the glass wall of my small office, and I turned to see one of the girls who worked in the fabric department. “Hey, Shay-Lee, did you order food delivery by any chance?” she asked.

“Not that I remember?” I said while scratching my chin with the pencil.