Glitter Season

By Victory Storm

Sometimes a season will change your life.
A sparkling season born of a friendship that will change your destiny forever.

Rachel's life was not going well between her boyfriend's betrayal and the prospect of being fired from her dream job. Emma lived in a gilded cage, surrounded by the affection of her family, but she dreamed of freedom and love, TRUE LOVE. Abigail was looking for her place in the world, but her insecurities prevented her from expressing herself fully. Then one day, Rachel, Emma, and Abigail met and became friends - a friendship that made their lives glorious and lively, prompting Rachel to climb the stairway to success, Emma to find the love of her life, and Abigail to become independent. But every change is followed by great disarray and not everything has gone the right way. Between intrigues, fun adventures, glamorous evenings, and spicy encounters will Rachel, Emma, and Abigail be able to conquer the world and live their glitter season?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Booker
• Release date: Nov 19, 2021
• ISBN: 9791220867603

Book preview

Glitter Season

Victory Storm

Text copyright © 2021 Victory Storm

http://www.victorystorm.com

Translator (ita --> eng): Maria Burnett

Cover: © Cover Art by IM COVER Studio

This is a work fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

All rights reserved. No part of the book may be reproduced or disseminated by any means, photocopies, microfilm or otherwise, without the author's permission.

OTHER BOOKS:

The Sweet Poison Of Revenge

Broken Rules

In Love With A Star

A Star In My Life

Touch Me

Hurracane Love

Glitter Season

You Are Mine

I Have You Now

PART ONE

Encounters

1

Breathe and retake control! Rachel ordered to her reflection in the mirror, trying to stop the tears that were pushing to come out.

I can't cry! Not for an asshole like Matt! And not in the office bathroom! she thought furiously, trying to catch the first tear that threatened to ruin her makeup.

She took a deep breath and tried to think of something else, but today it seemed that nothing wanted to go the right way.

It was her last day on the job and no one from HR had contacted her to talk about contract renewal or anything. She was terribly upset. She had worked hard for six months, splitting her job as an editor and part-time secretary for Norman Carter, the founder of Carter House , Portland's largest non-fiction publisher.

She was convinced that she had created a perfect understanding with her boss. They had talked a lot about the future and the publishing world. Norman had confided that the last few quarters had been disastrous, compared to seven years ago.

She had suggested that he expand his readership by introducing a fiction series, but Norman was immediately opposed, because he did not consider novelists to be true writers.

For him, writing was a talent destined for a few and for educational or popularizing purposes. Novels, especially commercial ones, were class C, even if he could not say anything about the turnover that was made thanks to the works of these pseudo-writers, as he defined them.

During those months Rachel had nevertheless felt a certain affinity with her boss, especially when he had asked if she could replace his secretary who was sick and could only work a few hours, until she finished her chemotherapy.

Rachel had considered it an honor for her to work alongside such a prominent figure in the publishing world, even if she had never been interested in a secretarial job. She had worked hard to always be impeccable, and Norman had often expressed his appreciation with his beautiful, seductive smiles that made all the female employees' hearts beat faster.

He could be your father, Rachel repeated to herself, thinking back to how dumbfounded she had always been in front of the man's charisma and charm.

Was it possible that someone who was always as kind and bewitching like Norman Carter just made fun of her?

Was it possible that in one month she had been deceived by two men with fake promises?

Matt also had always made her feel special during their three year relationship.

He too had never expressed disappointment or dissatisfaction with her busy working hours. Yet three weeks earlier she had found him in bed - in their bed - with a client of his.

He hadn't even tried to apologize or invent an excuse. Nothing.

He just told her that he would be moving soon.

The next day, when she got home from work, she couldn't find his things.

Not even a note or a message.

He had only left her the rent to pay.

And now she didn't even have a job to support herself anymore.

What will become of me? she thought, bursting into tears and covering her eyes to block her image in the mirror.

In those weeks she had drowned her sorrows in food and had gained four pounds.

That morning, she had barely managed to slip into her beloved black Dior asymmetrically cut midi skirt and close the buttons of her white Caractère silk shirt with flared cuffs.

Everything good? a female voice asked from behind, making her jump.

She quickly wiped away her tears and turned away.

In front of her was Abigail, the intern everyone called The Photocopy Girl.

She had been there for a couple of months, but they had never spoken, except for a brief greeting. Often she had felt that Abigail avoided or feared her.

Besides, she had the feeling that she had already seen her: blonde, with huge blue eyes, barely five feet tall, always dressed in a jaunty style, with a vintage French cut.

Some claimed she was underage, but actually she was twenty-one, even if the excessive use of flat flats, capri-style trousers and boat-necked sweaters made her look like a child. Especially when she wore her hair in braids or a red headband like Snow White's.

I’m all right. It was just a moment of despair, but it's already over, Rachel hastened to say, extremely embarrassed at being caught in tears by a stranger.

It happens to me too, you know? Abigail tried to comfort her with her little voice like the twittering of a bird. Not to mention that today is Valentine's Day ... Just yesterday my boyfriend left me. Will you spend Valentine's Day alone too?

Yep. My ex and I broke up a few weeks ago. He cheated on me and then he left. And now, after three weeks of silence, he comes back to wish me a happy Valentine's Day.

Way to turn the knife in the wound, huh? Abigail was indignant.

Looks like he did it on purpose just to hurt me. I don't see why he would have sent me that message otherwise, if not for that, Rachel guessed, remembering how the message had destabilized her to such an extent that she ran to hide in the bathroom to hide her tears. It wasn't like her to indulge such emotional scenes, but at that time there were so many changes going on and she feared she wouldn't be able to deal with it all alone.

Maybe he expected you to run to him and forgive him.

I’m not even thinking about that!

Sometimes men are selfish.

I know, but I can swear to you this will be the last time I shed a tear for a man. I no longer want to be fooled and to suffer. I'm better off alone, Rachel promised herself. "I just have to find a cheaper apartment, because I can't pay all the bills myself and Carter House didn't renew my contract."

Strange. Everyone says Norman Carter adores you.

Yes, but I would like to become a senior editor, be able to make a career and convince Norman to put together a fiction series ... Unfortunately, the editor vacancy will probably be given to Mara Herdex, and so far the publisher has no desire to open up to novels.

Number one: Mara is not even worth half what you are worth. I really mean it.

Thanks.

Number two: who better than you to bring new authors to this publishing house?

Actually, I'm nobody and I've never held the role of series director in my life. I don't have the experience needed, Rachel said, blushing at all the unexpected but sincere compliments.

" You are the founder of the blog Sogni di Carta! There isn't an aspiring writer who hasn't come to your blog to ask for advice or to seek out information on how to become an established writer. Not to mention your consultancy!"

You know of my blog? Rachel asked, surprised.

Abigail hesitated for a moment as if afraid of saying too much, then decided to open up and tell the truth. After all, she had never been able to lie and certainly would not have wanted to start now with Rachel Moses, the beginners’ guru.

You don't remember me, do you? she asked fearfully.

Your face is familiar to me, but I don't remember where I've seen you before, Rachel admitted.

We met three years ago at Liza Bennett's bookstore, at the Book Club that she held every Wednesday night.

Rachel finally remembered her. She had gone a few times to the Book Club held at Liza’s Books, and it had always been a pleasant experience.

If I remember correctly, you also asked me if I could read one of your stories, Rachel remembered.

Yes.

Did I like it? Rachel just didn't remember.

I would say no. You wrote me an email in which you tore up my whole story, criticizing the glossy personalities of the characters, saying the rhythm was too fragmented and calling the ending predictable … I cried for three days in disappointment.

Oh. I'm sorry, Rachel tried to apologize. The truth was that when it came to judging a manuscript, she never went light and never let herself be sidetracked by friendships or anything else. This cold and professional attitude had caused her to lose many friendships, but at the same time it had made her admired by writers who were trying to improve their writing or to understand why publishers rejected their writings.

I haven't written anything for two months. Then I thought back to your words and started following your advice. I worked hard and last year I asked you if you could read another story of mine. You accepted and complimented me for the lack of errors and the fluidity of the text. However, in your opinion, it was not yet ready for publication.

I'm sorry ... I get so many texts to read and sometimes I don't realize ...

Don't worry. I'm not angry. On the contrary I'm happy because you helped me a lot. But I know that the road is still awfully long. If I were to write a good novel someday, I'd like you to publish it for me. Abigail encouraged her with a grin of gratitude.

I'd be honored, Rachel smiled at her. She finally understood Abigail's reluctance during those months and was relieved to know that she hadn’t hated her too. She was more often covered by insults from writers when she was not convinced of the quality of their manuscript.

That's why I hope with all my heart that you continue to work here. I too dream of becoming an editor or a successful writer, instead of the Photocopy Girl, as they call me here, but I realize that you are much smarter than me and you deserve the promotion Norman will give soon.

Yes, but Mara ...

Mara is a viper and will try to kill you in all ways because she understands that Norman has a thing for you. Here. Keep this pen drive. Inside is a copy of all the work you've done in these months and the report I photocopied this morning, Abigail said, handing her a Kingston flash drive.

Thanks. There was no need.

Maybe, but something tells me that your future here will depend on this, the girl whispered in a cryptic voice before leaving the bathroom. And as for love, today is Valentine's Day.

It's a day like any other, said Rachel, who hated the romance of that holiday.

Yes, but not here. You must know that I did my internship here last year and I know very well what will happen today.

What do you mean? Rachel was curious.

Today is the boss's birthday and, like every year, his children will come to greet him.

So?

You know Norman Carter's eyes?

Yes, Rachel sighed in love. Her boss had beautiful eyes, truly magnets for every woman. It was impossible to remain indifferent under that magnetic gaze of moss green, a light shade that tended to gray.

Well, his five children all have the same eyes. Same identical color and charm. You'll see, you'll lose your mind!

No, not me, she assured her. She had just promised herself that she would close her heart to all men, and she had no intention of backing down.

The only thing she was willing to do was meet Richard Wayne, an incredibly talented aspiring writer with whom she had been friends for nearly a year.

They had finally decided to meet and, since they were both going to be alone that night, they had thought of celebrating Valentine's Day together. Nothing more.

"Shall we bet on it? The loser pays for lunch at Powell's complete with a voucher for a book purchase from the bookstore."

I'm in!

2

Rachel, did you bring me the report I asked for? It's important. I want to reread it before faxing it. I have until tonight. And bring me the latest bills we talked about this morning too. Norman Carter's voice croaked through the intercom.

I'll be right there! Rachel exclaimed, hurriedly gathering all the required documentation.

Luckily, she was a methodical person and always one step ahead of her boss. That way, she never had to keep Norman waiting.

In a rush, she took the files and ran to the door of the boss's office.

Unfortunately, in her haste, she did not notice the person in front of the door and literally ran into him.

As she ran into him, all the documentation fell and scattered disorderly on the floor.

Holy shit ... she was about to burst out when she stopped at the sight of the man standing in front of her.

For a good few second she could no longer think.

His beauty struck her with the force of a tsunami.

He was tall, muscular, with muscles so developed that they seemed to want to rip the blue uniform he wore, which bore the shield of the Portland fire brigade.

In addition, he had darker skin than Rachel's chocolate brown, as well as very short curly hair and sparkling green eyes, highlighted by the contrast with the black skin.

It was rare to meet a black man with light green eyes.

Rachel gasped.

You must excuse me. I ... the man took care to say, reaching down to collect the papers.

No, it's my fault. I didn’t see you and ... I should have been more careful. Excuse me, Rachel mumbled, her hormones in turmoil, also bending over to collect the files.

He smiled at her, revealing perfect white teeth.

Rachel found herself biting her lip to stop the moan of pleasure that rose from her throat.

Darius! Norman exclaimed behind them suddenly, making them wince at the same time.

Dad! Happy birthday! the man greeted him, standing up and hugging his father under Rachel's shocked gaze.

Was that super-hot man Norman's son?!

Unnoticed, her cheeks on fire, Rachel hurried to her boss's office where she put the paperwork on the desk and then ran to hide in her cubicle to cool down.

Now she understood Abigail's confident challenge.

Darius Carter was handsome as a god and had the exact same eyes as his father, although he was completely different otherwise.

She was almost recovered when she heard a knock on the door.

Without waiting for permission a young white man entered, with light brown hair and green eyes like Norman.

You are Norman's son, I presume.

Yes, I'm Justin. Is dad here? the young man asked with a smile that was seductive and yet innocent, enchanting her and making her melt.

He's with your brother, Darius. Maybe they went for coffee.

Okay, thanks, he replied as he left.

Rachel thought about that meeting.

Of course, Justin was younger than Darius as well as her, but he was identical to his father in everything.

Yes, he was handsome as hell, and that slightly naive air made him even more intriguing than Norman.

Determined to regain control of her emotions and take a break, she took advantage of the moment of distraction from her boss to go to the break room for a coffee, hoping to meet Abigail.

She had a thousand questions to ask her.

She was waiting for the coffee to drop into the plastic cup when she heard a voice behind her.

Excuse me, are you Rachel?

Rachel turned ready to answer, but the person in front of her startled her so much that the first button of her already tight shirt literally jumped into the air, showing her generous cleavage pressing against the fabric.

Before her were two identical men: blond, with green eyes, tall and with a beauty capable of breaking down even her iron defenses, typical of a woman wounded enough not to want to fall into the trap of love.

She was so shocked that she would have thought that she was hallucinating if it weren't for the elegant cream-colored suit of one clashing with the more aggressive biker look of the other.

Although her eyes didn't seem to want to leave that double vision, her right hand was quick to hide her exposed breast from their gaze.

I… Oh my God, I'm so embarrassed, she recovered after a few seconds, trying to close her shirt and hide her white lace bra.

Honey, you are bursting delightfully, but I think it's better if you wear this. The elegantly dressed man came to her aid, taking a red Hermès scarf from his neck and putting it around hers so that the silk caressed her shoulders and draped sinuously against her chest.

Thank you, Rachel just said, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Red looks good on you, you know? It’s beautiful, and it also breaks the rigidity of the contrast between black and white, don't you think?

I... Yes… I don't know, Rachel stammered shyly, as the man's expert hands smoothed out her shirt and a lock of hair.

Generally she didn't allow any contact or intrusiveness, but the man seemed harmless and more interested in her way of dressing than in what she had on display.

The same couldn't be said of his twin, who appeared fossilized staring at her breasts with an expression that made her feel terribly exposed.

By the way, my name is Jean-Louis, and this is my brother Jean-Luc. Luc, to friends. We were looking for our father and a lady told us to ask you. You're our father's new secretary, aren't you? the man presented himself with a smile capable of enchanting anyone.

Indeed. Your father is in his office.

No, he is not. We are just coming back from his office.

Hurriedly setting down her coffee, Rachel walked to her small office, where she quickly found a note from Norman: "I'm going to Moka's Bar to have coffee with my children. N. "

"Your father is at Moka's Bar with Darius and Justin," she told them.

Where is this bar located? Jean-Luc asked with a strong French accent that hit Rachel with a wave of desire.

Go outside and turn right, she managed to say although her mind was already somewhere else, in a bed, among the silk sheets, with ... Luc? Jean-Louis? Justin? Or Darius?

Okay, thanks, the two brothers said.

And the scarf?

A simple present for Valentine's Day or, if you prefer, a small compensation for having endured our father these past months, replied Jean-Louis.

Thanks. Not even Matt had ever given her something so expensive. Rachel loved designer clothes, especially those from the Max Mara, Armani, Dior, Prada and Tom Ford collections.

When the two brothers left, Rachel noticed that there was another post-it note in the pile.

It was from Abigail. Who won the bet?

Rachel laughed because she knew she would be lying if she declared that she remained completely indifferent to those four men.

However, that evening she walked out of Carter House with a broken heart.

Norman had never returned to the office and she hadn't received any last-minute calls to warn her that this wasn't her last day on the job.

Desperate, worried, she immediately went home and decided to let off her stress by finishing painting the room. It was a job that Matt had started a month earlier, but then stopped because he was too tired from the overtime he was doing as a financial broker.

Or because of all the fucking he was doing behind my back, Rachel mused, rolling on the paint so hard that the paint splattered on her.

Luckily, she had put on some old Disney clothes that she would gladly discard when the painting was finished.

She was about to complete the second wall when she heard her cell phone ring.

She ran to answer and with emotion coming out of every pore, she saw her boss's name on the display.

Rachel, where are you? Norman said angrily without even saying hello.

At home. She looked at the time. It was six o'clock in the evening and her work hours ended at four, even though she had stayed, waiting for him almost until five.

I asked you for the report.

It's on the desk.

No, it is not! I told you it was urgent. In less than an hour I have to send everything to the printer. You know I can't bear to break my word.

Rachel thought about that day.

Was she sure that she had taken the required documentation? Or had Darius distracted her so that she had forgotten about it?

I'll be right …, she answered before hanging up.

Time was running out.

Without changing, she ran to Carter House and headed straight to her office.

She looked for the printed report but found it nowhere.

Exasperated and feeling pressured, she turned on her computer, determined to print a new copy.

What the hell…? she blurted in shock when she saw her PC desktop completely empty.

Where the heck had all her files gone, her reports… everything she had worked on all those months?

Suddenly, she felt panic overwhelm her.

The IT technicians had left by then and she was completely alone, with Norman in the next room anxiously awaiting the required documentation.

Desperate, she searched for the report everywhere, even in her Prada bag.

She was about to give up when she saw the small pen drive that Abigail had given her a few hours earlier.

Not knowing what else to do, she attached the drive to her computer.

Suddenly, all of her folders appeared on the desktop.

Abigail had saved for her all the work that she had done!

She thought back to what she had heard and the suspicions that Mara Herdex would do anything to take out the competition and become the new senior editor.

In fact, that type of ‘accident’ had happened before, and on those occasions Mara had always jumped out with the solution in hand.

With an avalanche of curses filling her mouth, Rachel printed it all out and ran to her boss.

She knocked on the door and Norman ordered her to enter.

Once inside, however, Rachel realized he wasn't alone.

With him were a man and a girl.

Trying not to attract attention, Rachel quickly put the report down on the desk and headed for the exit, but the little girl stepped in front of her.

Aren't you too old to wear Snow White's Seven Dwarfs shirt? Why are you all dirty with paint? the little girl exclaimed, staring at her with her beautiful green eyes and waving her little dark brown ponytail.

Sophie, don't bother people, said her father, a man with Norman's eyes but darker hair and a thick, slightly unkempt beard hiding his face. You must excuse her. My daughter always tends to say the wrong things at the wrong time and to the wrong people, the man said in a mock angry tone.

No, that’s all right, Rachel replied with a hint of a smile.

Rachel, have you met my son Rufus? Norman intervened.

Not really, she admitted.

Get to know him well if you want to continue working here, because one day this business will be his.

Dad ... snorted the irritated son.

I know, but sooner or later you will have to settle down. Or do you want to continue ruining your life? his father stirred.

It's late. I have to go, the man cut him short, embarrassed at the statements made by his parent in front of a stranger.

Okay, go ahead and leave me Sophie. I haven't spent time with my beloved granddaughter for a long time.

Rufus agreed and, after saying goodbye and admonishing the little girl, he hurriedly left.

I'm going too. Have a good evening, Rachel said, sensing she was not really needed there..

No, wait. We haven't talked about extending your contract yet.

I thought you didn't want me here anymore.

" You are too indispensable for me to be able to do without you. However, I have waited a long time to talk to you about it because I am torn. I still need you as a secretary, but I understand that your job is that of an editor and I would like for you to fill that vacancy. You are smart and you have experience. I'd be willing to promote you to senior editor right away and give you a raise if you promise me you'll stay here with us. Also, I took a look at your blog Sogni di Carta. You know many things and some of your articles have been supported by the editorial trend. You made me realize that you really have what it takes to be a leader and, after our last chat, I'm starting to seriously consider the idea of opening a fiction series."

That would be great! Rachel was excited, still incredulous.

Show me that you are as smart as I think and I will put you in charge of the series, but I warn you that it will not be easy. At this time I have neither the resources nor the qualified personnel to create a real team. However, if the results are promising, then I will give you carte blanche and a quarterly budget that you can manage at your leisure. Are you with me?

I'm ready and I promise you I won't let you down! exclaimed the woman in seventh heaven. Her dream was coming true! She couldn't have asked for more.

When she walked out of Carter House she was so happy that nothing could take away her smile and happiness. Not even her pen pal who hadn’t shown up at the restaurant on their first date.

I lost my courage. Forgive me. Richard, he emailed her the same evening to apologize for standing her up.

Apparently, fate is telling me to focus on my career and not men, Rachel realized with a hint of disappointment. Underneath she was convinced that something more could come from her friendship with Richard. They had been writing for a year and she had followed him as an editorial consultant for months, helping him emerge as a writer. Over time, they had become friends and finally decided to meet each other, face to face, since they had never seen each other until now. Not even in photos.

3

You saved my life, Abigail, Rachel said as she walked over to Powell's for a quick lunch the following day.

I know, Abigail chuckled, happy to have done something good. She valued Rachel as a professional and as a person because she was always honest, fair and responsible. And even though she often lacked tact, she didn't do it on purpose. She was like that. During the past months, even if she had kept her at a distance, she had come to know and appreciate her.

Hundreds of times she had wanted to go and introduce herself, but then fear had taken over and she had never dared to approach her.

However, when she overheard a conversation by Mara Herlex in which she admitted to sabotaging Rachel's work, she made up her mind to do something.

Every day, during her lunch break, she went to Rachel's office to copy her work onto that flash drive, knowing it would come in handy sooner or later. And she hadn’t been wrong!

She had done it for Rachel because she did not deserve that sort of treatment, as well as for herself because she was sick of Mara's humiliations, and also for Carter House because it was going through a tough period and certain revenge and malice would only further damage the publishing house.

And I fell in love! Rachel exclaimed laughing.

I was sure! Which one?

All of them. Norman included.

Too bad they're all off limits.

All six?

That’s right.

Norman too? I know he's single.

Yes, but he's fifty-six! Come on! He could be our father!

Rachel was speechless because she knew it was true. She too was always repeating it.

A thirty-two year difference was not easy to come to terms with.

What can you tell me about his children? And why are they all off limits? Rachel tried again.

I know everything! Ask me anything you want.

Shall we talk about Darius?

" Darius… Oh my God, just thinking about him makes me want to dive into hot chocolate. And those eyes! You must know that Darius is the son of Norman and a Nigerian civil rights activist. Carter House has published two books about that woman. It is said that Norman left for Nigeria to meet her and offer her a publishing contract, but in the end he fell in love. They were married for a few years. Darius was born thirty-two years ago, but then the two broke up. Darius has remained with his mother, although he has an excellent relationship with both parents. Norman was hoping to leave his legacy of Carter House to him, but Darius chose to become a firefighter here in Portland, and two years ago he married a witch who uses him as an exhibit and comes here just to ask for money from her father-in-law, after her beauty salon went bankrupt.

Ok, I understand. Darius is off limits. But Justin? He's so cute with that saucy air.

Justin is fourteen, Rachel, Abigail stopped her instantly.

I had sexual fantasies about a child. I'm a pervert! Rachel realized, her cheeks burning with shame.

I thought he was eighteen, the girl tried to justify herself.

You're not the only one who thinks that, but I can assure you that Justin is just a teenager. Norman and Justin's mom broke up last year. She is Bulgarian and is said to have tricked Norman just to get a green card. I don't know if that's true, but Norman went to the Sofia International Book Fair and then returned to America with her. That’s all I know, and that after Justin was born, things started to go downhill until they separated.

But the twins are adults, aren't they? Rachel tried again, still shaken by Justin's age.

Yes, they are twenty-seven. from a French mother who works as a stylist in Paris. Again the trip to Paris was fatal for Norman. Their marriage lasted almost ten years, but then she returned to France with the children, and they broke up. Jean-Louis became a fashion designer like his mother and opened his atelier here in Portland, while Luc is a rally driver living in the Principality of Monaco.

But he’s single, right?

" Yes, but Jean-Louis is gay, and Luc lives more than five thousand miles away. He doesn't have a good relationship with