Blanca Roach scrambled to gather her wrinkled clothes before letting out a deep breath and opening the door to the lounge.
There was a lot of noise outside, with models and employees coming and going.
Isabel saw this side and hurriedly trotted over, sounding anxious.
“Blanca, what are you doing here, I’m going crazy here, and the model of the main model isn’t coming now.”
“What?” Blanca Roach frowned, “Get back in touch to see if there’s any problem on the way, and if so, arrange for a driver from The Grant family to pick it up.”
“Good.”
Isabel nodded as Matthew Grant gestured behind her and turned to head out backstage.
“Don’t worry, or I’ll ask Curtis Irwin to bring all the models signed in Empire Group, and you can pick the right one.”
“I can’t. I’ll wait.”
Blanca Roach subconsciously refused, even though it was a matter of urgency.
She didn’t want to meet any more Maryann’s. She was already angry enough with one, so she might as well contact someone she knew.
She was thinking about which model to call when a greeting came from next to her.
“Blanca, there you are.”
“Peter Murray.”
Blanca Roach hooked the corner of her mouth and raised her eyes to look at him.
Although the two of them had misunderstood over certain things, they were still friends in the end.
“How come I didn’t see you at the door just now?”
“You are so busy as a designer, how could you see me as an idle person, I didn’t touch the backstage before I saw you.”
Peter Murray smiled lightly and turned to look at Matthew Grant with a light tone.
“President Grant, good day.”
“Hmm.”
Matthew Grant answered, and did not respond with much enthusiasm.
The three men just stood there, no one said another word.
Amelia hid in the corner and watched, her eyes shining with venom and jealousy, her hands wringing the costume in her hands.
Why is there always a shortage of men around Blanca Roach?
Let her be proud of herself for a little while longer, and then it will be time for her to cry.
Blanca Roach gave a dry laugh, broke the silence between the three and pulled a waiter.
“You take this gentleman to the front and take a seat, Peter Murray, and we’ll get started later.”
“Well, I’ll go first.”
With that, he followed the waiter out backstage, no one noticing the familiar figure that flashed by.
Blanca Roach stared at Peter Murray’s back, suddenly remembered something and opened her mouth to ask.
“At Alice’s full moon party, did I also invite Miss Selina and Charles White, did they come?”
“Yes, they came in through the back door and are already seated.”
Matthew Grant tapped her on the shoulder, his tone low.
The back door?
Blanca Roach frowned and was about to ask Charles White, the president of the company, why he had to enter through the back door, afraid of being photographed by the media?
But without waiting for her to say anything, Isabel came in from outside with her cell phone, full of anxiety.
“Blanca, the model’s phone is not working, I can’t reach her now.”
“Don’t panic yet, don’t panic yet.”
Blanca Roach tried her best to calm herself down, her mind quickly spinning inside to think of a solution.
“Our main model is the last to be shown, you go first to keep an eye on the makeup of the models in front of you, I’ll figure this out, don’t rush.”
“Okay, I’ll go over first.”
Although Blanca Roach said she didn’t panic, her heart was still in a hurry, and she couldn’t think of any solution for a while.
Originally everything was arranged, but I did not expect the critical moment to go wrong.