THE GIANPIERO DYNASTY SERIES (BOOK I)
WHAT HAPPENS WHEN A RISING STAR CROSSES PATHS WITH A MAFIA WARLORD AND BLURS THE LINES BETWEEN DESIRE AND LUST?
Makua Amadi had only one goal in sight from the moment she ventured into the music industry: thrive...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
• MAKUA •
"That's it," The photographer crooned, shutters flashing at a rapid pace. A wide grin spread across my lips despite the hollow sensation settling in my gut. I tried to keep my focus on my angles and breathing — due to the dark corset that clung to my waist for dear life, and not on a certain man who had ghosted me.
Literally.
"Wonderful," Franco McMartin mused, scrolling through the shots and sending me a pleased smile. "You're a natural, Makua. You should consider getting into modelling if the music falls through, you'll give 'em a run for their money."
"Oh shut it," Donna smacked his hand playfully, the two of them glaring at each other. The studio, a grand space with various props and setups, was filled with people from my team, all working to ensure the shoot was successful. A lot of changes were being made in regards to my album release from the cover art — which was initially a low-budget picture of my side profile — to the song arrangement and much more. November was trickling past and with the January release, everyone was scrambling to make sure that it would be set up for success.
"You look fabulous by the way!" She screeched, pulling me from the white set and towards the chair, that had my name on it. "We should consider making this your new aesthetic."
The ginger silky weave that was held in an updo was something I wanted to keep forever, with the dark glittery corset dress that complimented the look. It was certainly an attractive aesthetic.
But I scrunched my nose nonetheless.
"If by that you mean getting rid of my crotchet outfits, you're on the wrong path."
"A girl could try," Donna mumbled, settling beside me.
I resisted the urge to laugh cause Donna had been on my case about wearing my handmade crotchet outfits out and about instead of capitalizing on my rising fame and coping designer deals. I did get some, I just couldn't get rid of my handwork so easily — knitting anything, especially clothes, took a lot and I intended to show it off.
"Here's your phone, ma'am." A petite brunette said, almost startling me as she stood by my side, appearing out of thin air. Donna had mentioned rotating my assistants to keep my data private and all that, but it was getting out of hand, and I couldn't keep up with them.
"Thank you..."
"Bella, Bella Lampard." A smile brightened up her face and the way she perked up at the idea of me speaking to her at all, felt unreal.
"Thank you, Bella."
Her cheeks burnt a deep shade of red. "O-of course." Then she vanished just as she'd appeared, flustered if anything.
"I see we have a fan in our camp," Donna muttered, not as pleased. She was one playful woman, but when it came to a job, she preferred people who worked and didn't fawn. I hoped she would last longer, she seemed okay.
