Mastered 2: Ten Tales of Sensual Surrender
Page 86
“One what?” Lex asked, opening her eyes. There was no time for cosmetic surgery, not even lunchtime liposuction.
“Water pill. He has these kick-ass ones. Your bloat drops overnight.” A little blue capsule appeared in her hand. “Tah-dah. Here, take it.”
“No.” There was one thing Lex learned from her parent’s mistakes: don’t take pills.
“Suit yourself.” Taddy popped the dot onto her tongue. Closing her mouth, she smiled and swallowed.
“Dammit. This can’t be happening.” She shouldn’t have designed a ball gown pattern to wear. What was she thinking?
Elaborate Swarovski crystals scattered throughout the bodice from front to back and a richly textured layering of the full skirt gave her the fairytale she’d always envisioned. But she’d have to take the zipper out and make a corset back. God, she didn’t want to do that.
“My darlings, forget the dress!” shouted the photographer, Jemma Fereti, as she moved Nackie back to the sidelines. Jemma had been flown in from Milan at Taddy’s request to capture the pre-wedding photos of Lex and Massimo. “Taddy has a good idea. We’ll focus on head shots of you wearing the crown of Tittoni and the veil. I want you nudo.”
“Naked?” Lex gasped.
Known as Europe’s top fashion model turned co-designer at Girasoli and photographer, Jemma caught erotic femininity on film. She had wanted Lex in her birthday suit from the start of the shoot.
She stalked over to Lex and held out her hands. “I get that you’re frustrated. But I’m not here to shoot fashion. I’m here to get on my camera those beautiful jewel-toned eyes, those full lips, and the look of happiness you have when you think of Prince Tittoni.”
Such a smooth talker. “It’s been six months since I had the baby, Jemma. The weight should be off by now.” Her eyes stung with tears.
“No crying, Princess. Get out of the gown. We’ll do some abstract photos, sì. I promise to capture your real beauty, my darling.” Jemma stepped back and swapped out the camera she held for another with her assistant.
Yeah, lady…real means real fat. I don’t want that. I wanna be glamorous. “I can’t go nude,” Lex pleaded as she appeared to have already made up her mind. “These photos are not only going to The Times, but over to Vogue and Town & Country. They have to make a statement of class and elegance.”
“Sì,” she said agreeably.
“These are royal photos.” Her face was going to be blasted on the Easton Weds hangtag labels...and on every major media outlet in the world. Next to Kate Middleton, her wedding week was going to be the paparazzi’s biggest swoon. Millions were projected to follow her, if not in person then on TV, as she made her way down the aisle.
“Lex, she’s the best there is,” Taddy interrupted then lowered her voice to add, “Jemma will get more photos later with other models, otherwise known as Photoshop.”
There was one thing her BFF knew better than anyone else in the world and that was the importance of a good public image. If Taddy said yes then she’d have to go with it. She trusted her; she always had.
“The pics won’t be going anywhere if we don’t have any. Now, get out of that gown and keep the headpiece on.” The dominatrix was coming out in Jemma as she bossed her around. “Go get changed.” She faced her assistant. “Dim the lights.”
I can’t go nude.
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Recommended Reading
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