The Fallen King | ✓

Chapter 9

~ Chapter 9~

The shutter of camera lenses could be heard as I looked for the sign with my name on it, ready to leave the airport.

Paris Fashion Week started next week and I was here to model for a few of the brands. Of course, being in a different country wasn't enough to ward off the paparazzi but the world could be going up in flames and they'd still be there, I guaranteed it.

Finally spotting my name on one of the signs, I flashed everyone polite smiles before following the nice looking older lady out of the heavily crowded building.

Once I finally managed to check into my hotel room, I flopped onto my bed immediately, not bothering to change before having a quick nap.

Hours later, the constant tapping on my door roused me from my slumber and I groggily got up to answer it, smoothening my wrinkled clothes out as best as I could before I turned the door knob.

Upon seeing the person behind the door, I wish I'd just carried on sleeping. Before me stood none other than my mother, Camilla King.

"Harper, finally! What took so long?" she asked exasperatedly, barging past me and into my room.

I shrugged my shoulders, sitting on my bed while mother instead opted for the cushy, beige armchair in the corner. "So, you've been in France for over five hours and didn't even bother to call," she accused, narrowing her grey-blue eyes at me, not even bothering with a friendly 'how are you' but, then again, that was just mother. It'd be weirder if she had decided to exchange pleasantries.

"Sorry mother," I apologised, knowing there was no point trying to reason with her. "The jet lag got to me so I went straight to sleep."

She shook her head, sighing as she stood up, digging for something in her purse. "That's no excuse, Harper, but what's done is done I suppose. Now come on, stand up. I need to double check your measurements."

I reluctantly agreed to model for mother's brand this week because I knew I'd never hear the end of it otherwise. Unfortunately, she thought she could just invade my privacy at any time, unlike the other brands I was working with for the week including Dior and Chanel.

I was scheduled to get all my final measurements taken tomorrow so the designers could make any last minute adjustments but, of course, mother couldn't wait a few hours for me to come to her warehouse and instead decided to appear at my hotel suite at this ungodly hour. Typical.

Begrudgingly, I got up and allowed her to check my measurements; it was just much easier to appease her rather than to argue. I heard her tut and tsk as she did and mentally prepared myself for what I knew she was about to say.

She dusted off her skirt as she stood upright again, jotting down notes in her diary and I could already feel the disappointment radiating off her in waves. "Harper, you've gained weight again. Have you not been following the diet I sent you a few months ago?"

I internally rolled my eyes, thinking how best to word my answer. "Mother," I started softly, still unsure how to explain this to her. She'd never understood when I'd told her in the past. "I've told you before, I don't want to go on a diet. I'm skinny enough."

She shook her head at me, smiling in the most patronising way imaginable. "Harper, sweetheart, you're a supermodel. You have to look the part otherwise you'll become jobless. Is that what you want?"

"No, mother, but that won't happen. I still have the body of a model and I'm careful enough with what I eat that that won't change. I exercise regularly and I eat healthily, that's enough. I'm not going to starve myself or go one one of your stupid no carb, no sugar, no nothing diets."