by Aubrey Dark
Or, at least, I used to love it. Now, I stared at the slim brunette laying on a tiger skin rug in her lingerie with a feeling of dread. I took picture after picture, but it wasn’t inspiring.
“Arms over your head,” I told her. She obeyed, her lips plumping seductively as she stared into the camera.
Click.
“Okay, now arms down,” I said.
Click.
“Push your tits together a bit more,” I said, squinting through the lens. She obeyed, but on her small frame there was not much to work with. I put the camera down.
“Can we get some more cleavage here?” I asked impatiently.
One of the makeup assistants ran over and began dabbing furiously at the poor girl’s chest. I sighed. There wasn’t anything to do here. I just wanted to be looking at Steph, not this girl.
“Is this better?” the model asked. Her eyelashes fluttered at me.
“Sure,” I said, not sure at all if anything had changed. I raised the camera back up to my eyes. Nope.
Click.
“Okay, now on your knees,” I said, not bothering to keep the boredom out of my voice. I’d done a thousand photo shoots just like this one. They had always been fun. I had always enjoyed taking artfully designed photos of beautiful women.
I remembered how Steph had looked up at me from on her knees. Her eyes, wide and sweet. Her tongue, peeking out at the corner of her mouth. What would it be like to marry a woman like that, to wake up every day next to those eyes, that tongue? I sighed.
“Mr. Black?”
It was the model. I blinked and looked down. I hadn’t been taking any photos, I realized.
“Would you marry me?” I asked.
The model froze, her eyebrows arched in shock. I’d already forgotten her name.
“Are you serious? You’re asking me to marry you?”
I shook my head.
“No, I’m asking you if you would marry me. As a hypothetical.”
“Oh.”
She looked disappointed.
“Would you?”
“I mean, yes. But you’re not asking for real?” Her voice sounded hopeful.
“Just a hypothetical,” I explained. Okay, so at least someone would marry me. That gave me a bit of hope.
No! What was I thinking? Hope? I wasn’t going to marry anyone anytime soon, if ever. Anyway, Steph seemed like the kind of girl who might not ever want to get married. She was so proud of being independent, after all. I wondered what she would say if I asked her. Maybe she would slap me. Or maybe she would say— “Mr. Black?”
It wasn’t the model. I knew that voice. I spun around to see Steph standing with a clipboard in her hand. Her eyes dragged over the thin model in front of me, her hands splayed over the tiger skin rug, and her brows arched.
“Steph!”
I stood up, letting my camera fall to my chest and hang by the strap. The air in the room seemed to grow five degrees warmer.
“Hi, Steph,” I said, trying not to sound too enthusiastic. If she had come by to see me, I wanted to play it cool. Play it cool— “Your secretary said I should bring this invoice by for you to sign.”
Oh. That’s why she was here.
“Take five,” I said to the model. “I need to deal with some business.”
The model got up and strutted off in her five-inch high heels. The studio door clicked shut, echoing through the empty room. Steph waited patiently. She was wearing a white blouse with something frilly on the sleeves, and a navy blue skirt that made her hips look incredible.
“You look good,” I said. “Very, ah—”
“Very professional?”
“Exactly. You’re so professional.”
“Thanks. Here’s the first payment invoice for the cupcakes,” she said, sticking the clipboard out in front of her. “I just need your signature to be able to order all the materials. I think you mentioned your mom liked licorice, so I want to get some special ingredients… ”
She went on, but I was too busy looking at the curve of her ass to really pay attention. Then she coughed.
“Hello?”
“What?”
“I said, would you sign this?”
She looked so deliciously irritated. I raised my camera and snapped a photo. Her lips pursed.
Click.
“Lucas, this isn’t funny. I just need a signature.”
“Call me Mr. Black,” I said. “If we’re being professional.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Sure, whatever. Mr. Black. I need you to sign this page.”
I really liked the way she said Mr. Black. It rolled off her tongue like honey.
“I’ll sign it in exchange for a few photos.”
Click.
“No. The answer is no. Just sign the damn thing.”
“Do you know what I charge for professional portraits?” I asked. “I’ll do yours for free. Come on.”
“Lucas—”
“Mr. Black.”
“Fine.”
She stood with her arms crossed in front of me.
“You look angry,” I said, snapping photos as I stepped back to frame her in the shot.
“Excellent observational skills,” she said. “It might be because I came here for a signature on an invoice, and instead you’re acting like I’m on a photo shoot for Glamour.”
I winced.
“Ugh, don’t say that. Glamour has the worst photographers. Anyway, we’re being professional. Think of it as a photo shoot for Fortune magazine instead.”
“Really?”
“Just a few photos and I’ll sign it. I promise.”
She huffed but let her arms drop to her side.
“Smile for me.”
She smiled, but it was a tense smile.
“What did the fish say when he ran into a wall?” I asked.
“What?”
“Dam!”
She groaned at the stupid joke, but not before I got a photo of her with a hint of a real smile.
“Great,” I said, snapping away. “Perfect.”
“How should I stand?”
“Here, here. Kneel down right there, so the backdrop is behind you.”
Steph knelt down carefully on the tiger skin rug. She had her hands clasped together, looking completely self-conscious. This wasn’t the brash, sassy Stephanie I knew. This Stephanie was way too timid. I stepped closer to her and tilted her chin sideways slightly, letting my fingers graze the line of her cheek.
“Mr. Black…”
“Chin forward and down,” I said, posing her like my other models. She obeyed meekly. I reached back and pulled off her ponytail.
She squealed and jerked back.
“We need some hair to frame your face,” I said, teasing a few strands forward and taking another shot. She pursed her lips together but said nothing.
“Beautiful,” I said. “Perfect. Now toss your hair back like you’re on the bow of the Titanic and Leonardo DiCaprio has you around the waist.”
She laughed and shook her head, tousling her hair. I was taking shots continuously as I adjusted the angle.
“Perfect, perfect. Now act like a tiger,” I said.
She hooked her fingers like claws and shook her blonde hair.
“There! Like you just killed an antelope!”
She growled, giggling through the growl.
“Wilder!”
“RARRRR!”
She was still giggling when I reached forward and unbuttoned the top button of her blouse. Her eyes widened, and her hands went up to cover her chest.
Click. Click.
“Perfect. So sexy.”
“Okay, that’s enough—”
I pretended to drop the lens cap from my camera. It rolled across the rug.
“Whoops!” I said, still clicking away.
God, she was perfect. Her navy blue skirt stretched around her hips as she twisted away from me to pick up the cap. As she bent over, I sat back and took a photo of her ass, round an
d perfect. She heard the click and whirled around, the lens cap in her hand.
“Lucas! What are you doing?”
“You know exactly what I’m doing,” I said in my best Austin Powers voice, shooting away. “Work it, baby! Yeah baby, yeah!”
“Lucas!”
She stood up in a huff, tugging her skirt down to her knees.
“Alright,” she said. “That’s enough.”
“Aw. We were just getting to the good stuff.”
“I think you have plenty of other models here to shoot good stuff with,” she said.
I put on the lens cap and reached for the clipboard. I looked over the invoice, pretending to read it thoroughly.
“What do you think about marriage?” I asked, in what I hoped was a nonchalant way.
“Marriage?”
Steph cocked her head and looked at me like I was crazy.
“You know. As an institution.”
“Um. I think it’s fine. Why? Is this about Jake?”
“Just curious.” I flipped to the second page of the invoice and changed the subject quickly. “Do you dye your hair?”
“No.”
“It looks great on camera.”
“Thanks.” She peered at me with a suspicious glint in her eyes. The door to the studio opened, and Steph turned away quickly to button up the top of her blouse. I couldn’t help but grin at the adorable blush on her cheeks.
“Lucas?”
We both looked over at the door. It wasn’t the model I’d been photographing.
It was Belle.
Chapter Five
Steph
I felt my face grow hot as Belle walked forward. Her hair was perfectly coiffed, and I couldn’t help smoothing down my teased-out strands with one hand. God, I must look like I had just been rolling around on the tiger skin rug for Lucas’s pleasure.
Hadn’t I? Here I thought I would be in and out with a signed invoice. And how had it ended up? With Lucas taking pictures of my ass and trying to unbutton my blouse. Honestly, had I thought it would go any different?
Belle brushed right by me on her way to Lucas. She handed him a manila folder.
“Jake mentioned you would be here today,” she told him. “Here are all the receipts for the Paris trip.”
“Belle, you know Steph,” Lucas said. He sounded awkward, like he’d been caught with his pants around his ankles. Was he embarrassed to be seen with me? Ugh. I wish I hadn’t come here. I should have sent Andy, I knew it.
Belle looked at me with narrow eyes. Her eyebrows were shaped perfectly, and they drew together like dark daggers on her forehead.
“I hope you’re having fun,” she said pointedly.
“Oh, we’re having a blast,” I said, in as sarcastic a tone as I could muster. “Signing invoices is so much fun.”
“I’m sure it is,” she said. Her gaze was poisonous. “Your blouse is coming undone.”
I looked down. I’d buttoned my shirt up hastily. I flushed.
“Bye, Lucas,” she purred. “See you at Mariam’s party later.”
“Yeah, see you,” Lucas said.
She turned on her heel and left. I waited until the door had slammed shut to speak again.
“That woman hates me.”
Lucas shrugged.
“She hates everyone. That’s Belle’s thing. Don’t take it personally.”
“I wouldn’t, if she wasn’t making it personal.”
“Come on. You act like she’s an evil villain.”
Anger flared up in my chest. How could Lucas act like she was some kind of harmless friend?
“You don’t have any idea what she said to me,” I said.
“When? Now?”
“At Jake’s party.”
“What did she say?”
I clamped my lips shut. She’d told me not to go after Lucas. She’d told me to keep my hands off. And I’d told her that I was going to be professional. My throat stung. I would disappear, and she would have Lucas all to herself. That’s how it should be.
“Nothing,” I said. “It’s all my fault. Would you sign the invoice?”
“Sure. Hey, what’s the matter?”
“Nothing. Thank you for the deposit check. We’ll be ready for the party.”
“Oh come on, don’t start acting all cold around me.”
I pinched my lips together and shook my head. Belle was right. I didn’t fit in. I wasn’t anything like the girls that Lucas Black spent time with all day. I wasn’t a supermodel. All of this…him taking pictures of me… it was all just pretend. There was no way I could be a part of this.
It might have been the lack of sleep combined with the sudden blast of self-pity, but tears welled up in my eyes. I turned away.
Lucas grabbed my arm.
“Steph—”
“Let go,” I said.
His fingers dropped away in an instant, but his eyes stayed fixed on my face.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m… I’m not in the mood right now.”
“Okay,” Lucas said. “As long as that’s all it is.”
I smiled a pinched smile and turned away from him.
That wasn’t all it was. But how could I tell him that I needed to stay at a comfortable distance from his life? I wanted to be near him, but I felt so completely out of place when I was in his world.
Walking quickly, almost running, I exited the sleek office building. I wasn’t running away from Lucas, I told myself.
Then why did it feel like exactly that?
Chapter Six
Lucas
I went for a walk with Otis in Central Park. My mom ambushed me on the way out of my apartment building.
“Mom!”
“Lucas,” she said. “I was in the area having coffee with Jill, and thought I’d stop by to chat.”
Sure you did. But I didn’t say anything. She was my mom, after all. I was used to having her stop by for chats. The first time, she’d convinced Alex to let her into the apartment, and she’d been surprised when a naked girl walked out into the kitchen.
Ever since then, she’d hovered around the street exit if she wanted to see me. Now, she hooked her arm around mine.
“Where are we going today?” she asked brightly.
“I was actually going to go on a run with Otis,” I said, hoping she would get the hint.
“Oh, we can’t run. I’m in heels. Let’s walk to the lake with the rowboats, that’s always nice.”
I sighed and let her lead me across the street. She waved at the impatient drivers who honked at us for jaywalking. We walked along the lake and Otis yanked at the leash with every squirrel we came across.
“So, Lucas, do you have anything to tell me?”
“Tell you?” I stared at my mom. “No?”
“Who’s the new girl?” she insisted.
“What do you mean?”
She pulled out a tabloid from her purse. It had a paparazzi shot of me dancing with Stephanie under the Eiffel Tower. The photo cropped out everybody else—Jake and Lacey, all of the family. It looked like we were dancing alone.
“Is that your new girl?”
I took the tabloid. Steph looked so beautiful in that cream dress. Like an angel. I remembered that night, our first night together.
“She looks pretty enough,” my mom said.
“She’s beautiful,” I said.
“Well, I suppose that’s enough to hold your attention for an hour or two.”
I frowned and folded the tabloid in half.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re flighty.”
“Flighty?”
“In my day you’d have been called out as a shameless flirt. Now girls fawn over you for a day’s worth of attention.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, mom. Sheesh.”
“When are you going to settle down?”
Oh, God. We were going to have this conversation again. I should have broken free with Otis and made a run for it. Now
I was stuck.
“Mom…”
“Don’t tell me I’m being too pushy. Jill’s boy has a wedding set for this fall.”
“Good for him.”
“And he’s two years younger than you.”
“Sounds like a great son. Maybe you should adopt him.”
“Lucas, I only want to know when I can expect to see you hold onto a girl long enough for me to meet her.”
“When I find the one, I’ll let you know,” I said. I didn’t say anything about Steph. Steph didn’t want anything to do with me. Was this how all women saw me? Maybe that’s why she was pushing back against my advances. She thought that I would use her up and dump her, and she was the only woman strong enough to even try to resist it. Well, that was the last thing I wanted to do.
An idea flashed into my mind. At first, I thought that it was crazy. But as I mulled it over, I realized that it might just be the perfect answer to the problem I was facing here.
“Don’t worry, mom,” I said, patting her hand calmly. “You’ll see. I’ll settle down soon enough.”
“Is that right? What, with some French floozy girl you dance with in Paris? Be serious.”
I laughed at the idea of Steph being a French floozy. My mom didn’t know that I was already planning on being serious. I’d never been serious before, of course. But Steph was changing all that.
“I told you before. I’m going to bring my own little surprise to the party.”
“What surprise?”
“You’ll see.” I smiled.
Steph was going to see exactly how serious I could be. Alex was already downtown, putting together the last touches on my plan for tomorrow’s party. I’d given him orders to keep everything perfectly secret. Strange. I’d never felt nervous before a party before. This one, though, would be something very, very special.
I called Steph.
“Hi,” she said. No Lucas. No Mr. Black. Just hi. In that one word, I could hear how frazzled she was. It was adorable.
“I wanted to make sure everything was okay,” I said.
“Okay?”
“You know, for the party tomorrow and everything.”
“Oh. Right. Of course. Everything will be perfect. I’m finishing up the cakes tonight.”