Heaven's Empire

Friday

I'd been at the agency for almost a week, and despite the hours I had spent practising the perfect runway walk, learning how to talk to reporters or being coached in all matters of style, somehow I hadn't got round to meeting any of the other models - aside from Ciara of course.

Not that I didn't know who they were. My instagram account, which had only been created a few days earlier, already had several million followers, and among them were some of the most famous women in the world: Gabrielle Katwe, Persephone West and Aiysha Salem to name a few. They had all commented on my first post, the photo from Casting Day, showering me with praise, but still, I had yet to meet them.

Today was the day. I spent the morning with one of the creative directors talking about the December show, then had lunch with Kensa.

"How are you feeling about meeting everyone?" She said, for once not glued to a screen or phone, in a rare moment where she wasn't being hassled by her assistants.

"Excited, really excited... but slightly nervous too," I admitted, to which she nodded understandingly.

"Of course, it is rather intimidating - these models already have established careers and yours is just beginning. But they're very excited to meet you."

"Really?" I couldn't hide my surprise. Modelling has a reputation as a profession where women are notoriously catty; sweet to each other's faces but nasty behind their backs. I had met Ciara, of course, and knew she was lovely, but I was naturally suspicious of the others, and had assumed they would be turning their noses up at the thought of a newcomer.

"Oh yes. We haven't taken on any new models in years, you know. A fresh face is always good for the agency, for everyone. And a celebratory dinner like this... well, it's always special."

That was all the conversation I could snatch from her - an aide beckoned to Kensa and she was drawn away, though not before directing me towards Mario's office.

"Darling," he said as soon as he saw me. Mario never looks dishevelled - he's much too stylish for that - but, caught up in the folds of an enormous dress he was working on, he did look a little stuck.

"Can I give you a hand?" I asked, struggling to keep a smile off my face as I helped part the folds of fabric.

"Thank you, you're an angel," he said, tucking a final pin into place on the dress' bodice before focusing on me. "Now... what are you wearing tonight?" His eyes began to sparkle in that way they do whenever he has an idea. 

"That is why I came to you..." I decided compliments was the way to go, and besides, it was hardly a lie.

"I wish I could say flattery will get you nowhere," he said, leading the way down the corridor. "But as you know, with me, it usually gets you straight into the couture closet."

As he usually did, Mario had specific ideas about the clothes that were suitable for the occasion, but in an attempt to help me discover a personal style I wasn't sure I had ("don't be ridiculous, Stasia, everyone has style - well, not everyone, but you do, no question about it") he was leaving the decisions increasingly up to me.

"The colour is gorgeous," I said, pointing to the champagne gold jumpsuit he had selected. 

"But you'd prefer to wear a dress?" He knew what I was thinking before I said it. Setting the jumpsuit back into its place, he showed me over to his pick of cocktail dresses. There was a bit of everything: a little black dress, a striking red number and navy, off-the-shoulder item, but it was a shimmering, sky blue dress that had my attention. Short, but not too short, it was fun but classy.

"This one's perfect," I said, running my fingers over the luscious, silky fabric, and Mario smiled. 

"Yes, I think it is. Consider it yours."

I couldn't stop smiling as he passed me the hanger. It was crazy; a week ago I had been a nobody, and now I could simply ask and some of the world's most luxurious dresses were mine.

By the time I had processed the fact that I was going to wear the dress in my hands, Mario had selected a pair of strappy silver heels and some jewellery to match. 

"It's almost four o'clock." He said softly, the beginnings of stress starting to creep into his voice. I was perusing jackets and shrugged half-heartedly. 

"So?"

"Drinks are at 7:30."

Three and a half hours was, in my mind, plenty of time to manage hair, makeup, and getting to the restaurant, but then I am not Mario.

"OK, OK," I smiled teasingly, letting Mario win before he became fraught. "Do I need to find a makeup artist...?"

He looked positively insulted, before realising I was joking. 

"You really are too cheeky," he muttered, leading the way towards the makeup studio. "Take a seat and leave the rest to me."

***

In the end he had my hair and makeup finished in under two hours, which left me plenty of time to change and even some time to myself before heading out to dinner. The nerves were starting to get to me now - Kensa had said that all the other models were excited to meet me, but were they just looking forward to tearing me apart?

There was a knock at the door, followed by a soft:

"Stasia?"

I looked up from my phone to see Ciara in the doorway. 

"Ciara!" I said, more than a little relieved to have one familiar face. "You look stunning." 

And she really did - wearing an off-the-shoulder blush pink dress that must have been made for her, it fit her so well. 

"And you," she said, admiring my dress. "I thought I'd drop by and ask if you wanted to leave with me? It will save you walking in on your own."

I couldn't believe she had actually thought about me - Ciara, the goddess that I could barely believe knew my name - let's just say everything she did made her even more of a queen.

"Ma'am, we ought to head off," Ciara's bodyguard said, popping his head around the doorway. 

"Come on then," she smiled at me, leading the way to the car. Evidently my expression had given away that I really did want to join her. At least, I hoped, if I walked in with Ciara, everyone would look at her and not me. It's crazy that, as a model, I didn't want people looking at me, but I could already imagine the judgemental glares I was going to get from the other models when I walked through the door...

I'd been so lost in the contemplation of what a miserable affair this was likely to be that I hadn't even noticed we had arrived. 

I followed Ciara out of the car, and that's when all hell broke loose.

"Anastasia? That's Anastasia Du Kane!"

"Oh my god it's her!"

"Ciara! This way, Ciara!"

"Miss Du Kane, give us a smile!"

"Anastasia, over here!"

"Miss Du Kane! Anastasia! Anastasia!"

I couldn't work out who was screaming louder, the paparazzi or the hoards of teenage girls - I was just thankful for Ciara's firm arm around me and her security team between us and the crowds, escorting us safely inside the restaurant into the private section booked out by Heaven's Empire. 

"It seems you've got quite a fanbase," Ciara remarked softly. "Your face has been out a week and they all know your name."

"Is that a good thing?"

"Oh yes. Yes, it's a good thing."

And then came the next onslaught.

"They're here!"

I couldn't work out what was going on - we were inside the restaurant now, it was supposed to be private - until I realised the shout had come not from a member of the public but a model. The moment was here - I had one supermodel at my side but was I ready to face the rest of them?