What I didn't tell Leo was that I'd already started concocting a bit of a game-plan for my reintroduction into the world of fashion. And that plan began with Daphne.

I hadn't seen her for weeks, so caught up in my situation with Leo and the break-up with Cameron and all the emotions I had to deal with. Eventually, I confessed to her what was going on, and she'd been nagging me to get coffee ASAP to hash out all the details of my love-life.

Getting out and about was increasingly difficult, and more so since Stewart's tirades were becoming popular online. He'd gone from hundreds of thousands of views to millions—granted, a lot of viewers were criticizing him for his harshness towards us. His name was on many tongues in the media world.

Paparazzi already followed me everywhere, before Leo and I became official. Now, it was the worst of nightmares to even set one foot outside my apartment. They'd figured out what neighborhood I lived in, but thankfully not the building. Leo's team accompanied me and diverted attention away from me so I could sneak in and out. But I wouldn't be able to use Leo's team forever, especially since his security was thinned after Cameron's departure.

I'd somehow managed to creep out late one morning, after texting Daphne a time and place, kind of last minute. She understood, though; with stardom came consequences, one of them being limited on where and when to meet with a friend.

It was a suggestion of Leo's, when he mentioned wanting to hang out with friends of his own. Go to a local, decrepit, poorly serviced location, where most fans and paparazzi wouldn't expect a high-caliber celebrity to hang. And he was right—the small, mom & pop coffee shop I arrived at, only a few blocks from my apartment, was the ideal spot for a coffee date with Daphne.

I should have accepted Leo's offer to use his car services, but it'd be a waste of gas, since this shop wasn't far from home. I enjoyed the walk, watching the trees in Central Park shifting to hues of amber and copper. I hid under a hoodie as I observed passers-by walking dogs or pushing strollers into the over-hyped park that was, in truth, as beautiful as pictures portrayed it.

The tiny bell chimed as I opened the shop door, and a whiff of strong coffee and burnt pastries whizzed into my nose. I let out a breath of relief once inside, welcomed by rickety tables with mismatched chairs and spotted table-cloths, and an elevator-music style tune playing in the background. I'd been here a couple of times, and the elderly couple who owned it had no clue who I was, but detested the press. They barely spoke English, but their threatening growls had more than once saved me from oppressive photographers who tried to follow me inside. They never tried again.

"Hey!" A tart voice came at me from my left, from a sheltered booth stuck in a corner away from windows. I noticed a head of thick, luscious red hair, and a thin-fingered hand waving at me.

Smart, Daphne.

As I approached, Daphne hopped to her feet. Of course she wore bright red high heels and tight black leather pants, looking like a model who'd stumbled into the wrong building for an audition. She engulfed me in a bear hug, and her scent of vanilla and berries swarmed into my nose, mixing with the coffee and food aromas that made my stomach gurgle.

"Oh, my," she said, snorting as she heard my stomach's cries. "Sit, sit, let's get you something to drink and eat, and then you can let it all out, yeah?"

She was way too enthusiastic for me, but that was Daphne; a chip on her shoulder but a radiant smile on her dark-tinted lips at all times.

She returned to her seat and gestured towards the barista on duty, who'd been huddled behind the counter doing who-knew-what. They scurried over, took my order, and got to work immediately. The coffee here was tolerable, the food edible, but I wouldn't be picky today.

"Thank you," I said, falling into the cushion opposite Daphne, setting my purse beside me. I lowered my hood and let out a lengthy sigh. "It's such a fucking trip getting anywhere these days."

She beamed at me, batting her coated lashes as she set her clasped hands under her chin. "Ah, yes, Miss Famous over here." There was no spite in her tone; she loved that I was posted on websites regularly and my name became a habit of discussion among Leo's fans. "The paparazzi hound you, click, click, here's a brand new apartment, kaching, kaching—"

I swiped at her, though under my fake annoyance, I was grinning. "Shut up. You don't know the half of it. I'm spoiled rotten and still miserable." I blew out an exaggerated breath, and she guffawed at it because she knew I was lying.

Paparazzi and bad press aside, I loved my new life. The ease of access, never struggling to get what I needed, never knowing what it felt like to not afford something. With what I was being paid, I could afford a lot more than before; but then Leo rarely let me buy anything myself. And I didn't hate it.

"Gosh, share your spotlight a little, will you?" Daphne fluffed her hair and gaped towards the window with widened eyes. "Hello? I'm in here! I'm the one you've been waiting for! My name is Daphne and I work for LuXe—"

She hushed when my coffee showed up, along with the small plate of vanilla scones. "Enough." I took a bite, tried not to cringe at the overly hardened texture, and swallowed. At least the flavor was there. "Trust me when I tell you you don't want their attention."

Once I'd forced myself to finish the scone—it was so damn dry—and washed it down with average-tasting coffee, I unraveled all the juicy details Daphne had been desperate to hear. Cameron's fucked-up manner of dumping me, Leo driving across town in his Lambo to console me, the consolation that led to sex, the sex that led to us being super serious about each other.

She was focused, hanging on my every word, living vicariously through Leo and I's love story, as she called it. No matter how many times I told her we weren't in love, she insisted we would be soon enough.

"You seem so...evasive, though," she said to me, after ordering her third cup of coffee. She was already jittery, but searched for any excuse to sit here in this run-down diner-style coffee shop and chit-chat with me until she knew every single thought in my head. We used to talk for hours, used to spend every work break together, text until our eyes hurt, party together—and then I'd met Cameron, and everything changed.

"What do you mean?" My second cup of coffee tasted way better, and the other scones I'd ordered weren't as dry. I hashed the other one's failure to coming from a bad batch. It happened. "I literally detailed scene for scene my sex life with Leo, all while keeping my voice low in case some asshole paparazzi found a means to slither in here." I'd checked several times—no one got in. But you never knew.

"No, there's something else." She studied me with her light eyes, her glittery eye-shadow drawing me in. She'd dressed as if she were about to attend a fashion-show, prepared to impress; and as always, she impressed me. Daphne was gorgeous, and she knew it, and she wanted everyone else to know it too. "When I asked you about work, you dodged the question. Now that I have all the information of a lifetime, including the size of Leo Lee's dick, you can't avoid it. So," she patted my hand on the table, "what's up? Weren't they supposed to get you into any magazine you wanted?"

I gulped. "They were." I snickered into my cup of coffee. "They want to, but I...declined. I want to succeed on my own, you know? No handouts. Hey," I felt myself light up with ideas, with questions, "you never told me: how did you do it? How'd you get into LuXe? I've known you for years but I have no clue what your experience is, what degrees you have..."

Daphne pulled backwards and winced. "Well, if you're someone who doesn't like handouts, you won't appreciate how."

I narrowed my gaze. "Come on. Spill. I won't judge you."

She arched a perfectly plucked crimson eyebrow. "You sure? You're such a hard-working person, I'd hate to ruin your idealistic views of how people make their way in the fashion magazine industry."

Now she had me worried. But I shrugged it off; any advice she could give me would be a start. "It's fine."

"Okay..." She dipped a stirrer into her coffee, swirling the liquid around, and concentrated on it to not look at me. "My family has deep ties with...Mr. Ivy." My eyes grew round as saucers, and she chortled. "Yeah, him. Yes, he's a jackass, but he's a rich as fuck jackass who knows my family and who owed them a debt, or some shit." She brought the mug's rim to her lips but didn't drink.

"Your family," I said, playing with the crumbs on the table. "Wealthy?"

She nodded. "Big time. Filthy rich, I'd say, because they are rich and they are filthy." She bit her lower lip and scrunched her nose as she gazed at me. "Porno business."

I dropped the crumb I'd been compressing between my thumb and index finger. "Oh, wow. Okay, well...that's a lucrative industry for sure."

"Yeah, and they exploit many people. My family does." Her cheeks flared up and she swallowed several gulps of coffee before slamming the mug back down. "Fucking dicks, all of them. Abusive, money-hungry...anyway, when I was old enough to understand what they were about, I cut ties with them. I didn't want their dirty money that they gained by abusing women. But they," she hissed, and dug her hand into her purse, extracting a silver flask, "they wouldn't give up. They wanted me back in the family, for some weird fucked up reason I still don't get." She opened the flask and tipped its contents into her mug, before stopping and directing it at me. "Need some? It's Bailey's."

As much as I loved Bailey's, I declined. "Did they succeed?"

"In getting me back?" Daphne tossed the flask back into her purse. "Sort of. They wanted to get on my good side, and knew I'd struggled to put myself through beauty school. So they somehow found out my aspiration was to write about make-up, and...next I knew, they'd bought my apartment, my car that I never use, and a one-way ticket into a columnist position at LuXe. And as much as I loathed them...it was everything I wanted." She blinked, her smile not quite reaching her ears. "I didn't refuse them, but I still don't talk to them."

I frowned, shaking my head. "Damn. I never knew."

"I never offered the information," she said, her voice returning to its normal warmth.

"Didn't it bother you? Didn't you consider, for a second, not accepting?"

She rubbed the back of her neck, stretching it side to side. "Look, they'd have continued their persistence. I know my family. I grew up in this money, in their schemes. Sooner or later..." She cringed, and set her hand on the table, palm facing up, beckoning me. "It's a normal thing to give in. Us rich idiots, we're programmed to accept those handouts."

I placed my hand in hers, fighting my thoughts, my questions.

"Ha," she squeezed me, "ask your lovely Leo, he'll tell you."

I removed my hand from hers and glowered at her. "I won't. That's a discussion I'd rather not have. His family background is...all kinds of money." I dragged a hand down my face, grateful I hadn't put on too much makeup. "But he's done so much for me, offered me so much, and I'm having a hard time with it. I love that he spoils me, but when it comes to my professional life...I'm blocked. It's like if I accept, it's too easy, and I didn't deserve it. I'm not talented enough."

"Sweetie." Daphne got up and scooched into my side of the booth, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. Her leather pants slid over the cushions, the sound making me cringe. "It doesn't mean you're not talented. You are. I've seen your writing, love. I've seen you put together outfits—though not your own, because your taste," she eyed me up and down, lips pinched, "isn't the best. But you're good, you're amazing. You find stories and write about stuff that's meaningful, yet still tied into fashion. Let him give you a push, yeah?" She tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, and I could have sworn a tear gathered at my lash-line from the softness, the sincerity of her voice. "The rest will be on you, on your talent. You'll see."

I leaned into her, letting her rock me back and forth as I internally debated what she said. The risks, the pros, the cons—what would it be like if I caved and accepted Leo's help? The job of my dreams, within reach, at the tip of my tongue...did I still deserve it if someone snuck me in there? Would I feel awful for those who had to work their asses off?

"I need to sleep on this," I said, when Daphne finally released me, and I'd let loose more tears than anticipated. "Thank you for your advice, but I need time to see if it applies to me."

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