5
“Idon’t like this dress.” Helia points at the pink dress Runa, one of the brunette models, is wearing.
The photographer, Arlo, sighs.
“How many more outfit changes do we need? I am a busy person, and you only have three more hours left with me,” Arlo says.
Helia’s eyes snap towards him with such cruel intensity, I don’t know how Arlo isn’t shaking.
The studio has a pink backdrop for the pictures, and there are five models lined up. The first two have already done their part, but Helia seems to be having a problem with Runa. She has already changed twice.
“I’m the one paying you, aren’t I? Go change, Runa, and you—” He points at Arlo, who pushes his glasses up his nose. “If you want to keep your business going, I advise keeping your trap shut. If any of these pictures don’t come out as I expect them to, I will drag you back here, be it midnight or during ungodly hours of the morning, and make you redo them.”
Arlo swallows thickly.
“Understood?”
Arlo nods frantically, then waves a hand to his assistant, who walks Runa to the change room.
The models are too busy looking appreciatively at Helia to mind his behaviour or the way his voice drips with such authority and venom to suggest he might kill you if you made a mistake.
“Mr Nashwood?” Lilith, the second model, walks up to Helia, a soft smile on her face. She’s a short model with olive skin and curly strawberry blond hair.
Helia looks up from his phone. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows to reveal just a hint of his tattoos, and his shirt clings to his muscular chest. Each bump of his abs shows through the shirt, and the black slacks he wears emphasise his muscular thighs.
The minute his eyes fall on her, a small breath escapes from her lips. Her eyes widen a fraction as she moves closer to him.
“Do you want to have a quick coffee break with me while they get Runa ready?” She clasps her hands behind her, and she sways lightly, probably nervous, waiting for Helia’s response.
He just keeps looking at her, unfazed and probably unaware she is nervous to ask him.
“Coffee?” he repeats, blinking.
She nods, keeping up her sweet smile.
Helia’s lips twitch, and the minute they do, bitterness claws in my chest.
I push it down and glance down at my iPad, forcing my eyes to stay on the inspiration board I made, but a certain pull drives me to look up again, to find out if Helia has accepted or not.
They’re on their way out, Lilith with a bounce in her step and Helia with a hand in his trouser pockets.
Helia glances over his shoulder. His eyes instantly find mine in the middle of the chaotic room, amongst the people, lights, and dresses being thrown around, and he winks at me. Then he turns around and disappears.
How dare he wink at me when Lilith clearly seems interested in him? Doesn’t he have any respect for her?
Thirty minutes pass, and Runa returns wearing a short blue glittery dress. Helia and a smiling Lilith right behind him arrive shortly after. Runa spots them and walks over, her eyes on Helia, who is walking towards Arlo with an intense expression of concentration. For some weird reason, I find myself walking towards the water bottles placed behind the girls.
“How did it go?” Runa asks Lilith, a high pitch to her voice.
“I think it went well. He kind of just sat there and drank his coffee and looked at his cup the whole time. He seemed happy to be going, but he just stayed quiet while I was talking.”
A stupid smirk makes its way onto my face, but I shut it down.
Exactly. Lilith should realise how fucked up Helia really is.
“Is that all?” Runa asks, her voice now a whisper.
“No. Towards the end, he finally looked at me and started talking about how good I was and how he thinks he could put a good word in for me to get more modelling jobs since I am so new to all this.”
I glance over my shoulder at Lilith to see a faint blush on her cheeks.
No. Don’t think that. Helia is manipulative.
Is he, though? Or does he just act like that with me?
His hate is so clear, so apparent, that I can’t mistake it for anything else.
He despises me so much, loves to see me in trouble and struggling, and laughs when he sees me juggle problems, and yet, with Lilith, he seems so calm, so gentlemanly.
I turn from them and go to stand by Arlo, returning my focus to the task at hand and not on Helia’s private affairs.
I shouldn’t care what he does and doesn’t do.
Throughout the shoot, I kept catching Lilith giving Helia longing glances. He keeps a soft smile on his face while she blushes profusely, and the makeup artists keep glancing at him from their corner of the room.
No one seems to care that he was being rude to Arlo. No one seems to notice his jaw ticking as if a timer is set for patience. And no one sees his fingers tapping on his crossed arms. He is running low on patience, trying to keep it together, but other than that, he looks so easy going.
So easily making himself out to be what everyone here wants him to be. A gentle, smiling charismatic boss.
What a manipulative fucker.
Near the end of the photoshoot when all models are together, a faint hot trail brushes my cheek, and I look up. Helia’s intense eyes are on me. Something hot boils inside of me, probably my hatred for him. The sight of him makes me want to throttle him.
I lift a brow as if asking ‘what?’
His eyes slide to Arlo, back to me, then down to my hand, which rests on Arlo’s arm. His eyes harden, jaw locked while he keeps looking between me and Arlo. Maybe I am overstepping boundaries, but he didn’t care when he went with Lilith, so me doing something simple shouldn’t matter.
I shrug.
Helia narrows his eyes further. My body tenses.
I jut my chin towards all the models now together in front of the camera, silently asking him to pay attention.
His eyes dart to my hand once more.
I wink at him playfully. His nostrils flare, his body tense while he flexes his hand as if restraining himself from breaking something.
“Lilith, look towards me, love, at the camera,” Arlo shouts.
Lilith blushes at being caught staring at, I can only assume, Helia. Her new little crush.
“Sorry,” she mutters and looks towards the camera.
I hold in a small laugh, and it seems Helia catches me doing so. He strides over and shoulders his way between me and Arlo. His large body stands between us, his gardenia and dark musk scent looming around me like a caress.
“Get closer shots, Arlo. I don’t want them all to look the same.”
Arlo scrambles away at Helia’s commanding tone.
To my surprise, Helia stays next to me.
His shoulder brushes against mine.
My breathing stutters.
I take a step to the left.
He casually takes one too.
I sigh, glaring at the side of his face. A soft smile is present on his face as he focuses on Lilith, who just keeps blushing.
“There is a thing called personal space,” I grit out.
He glances down at me, smile frozen in place, but it isn’t for me.
Two-faced fucker.
“Never heard of it.”
I shove my shoulder against his. He bites his lip, holding in his laugh.
“Stop laughing. You keep flirting and not being professional. Maybe you should have left the company alone,” I mutter, crossing my arms. “You weren’t wanted here, anyway.”
The humour drains from his eyes, and his jaw tightens and tics. His face darkens, and the easy-going smile on his face freezes in a way only I could notice.
My body runs cold, ice prickling under my skin like parasites.
Fuck.
“You seem to be very attentive for someone who isn’t interested in my life. You want to see me fuck her? Is that what you want? A show? So that, what? You can label me as incapable of running the company?
I choke on absolutely nothing. Helia takes a step closer to me and leans down to press his lips by my ear.
“Be careful how you speak to me, Ambrose. I won’t hesitate to choke you on the very water you used as your disguise to listen in on the gossip.”
My jaw drops open.
He strides away from me, his threat hanging like a dagger above my head.
I will never win against him if this keeps going. He has left me shocked and horrified after every single interaction. His parting words just now are an exact reflection of him.
Cruel. Disgusting. And a menace to society.
But watching him take control and be so commanding, it’s twisting my opinion of this big bad guy who has stolen everything from me. I can see now that he’s more than capable of keeping Glamorous afloat.
Doesn’t mean I’ll accept it.
Soon enough, we are all done, and I head home. I don’t tell Helia that I’m leaving. The workday is more than over. It’s seven in the evening. I am tired.
Soaking in a beautiful hot bath is definitely what I need to soothe my muscles after being on my feet all day.
Tomorrow is Friday. Last day of the week.
As soon as I step foot inside my house, I catch movement in the corner of the hallway, and my mind instantly reels back to the mysterious hooded man. I take a deep breath, telling myself it’s just security doing inside checks of the mansion.
My stalker doesn’t just stand there watching my window anymore. He explores and wanders around the back garden as if he has no care in the world that my security guards, who patrol the property, will catch him. Every. Single. Night.
He is getting more confident.
I need to put a stop to this before it gets worse. Somehow.
I don’t want to end up like my sister.
I don’t want to be crazy and paranoid, obsessed that someone could easily end my life.
Helia would have no problem killing me if he truly had the chance, and I think he would do it.
His crude words flash through my mind. I can’t believe he wanted me to watch him fuck Lilith like I am an exhibitionist who loves seeing that shit. Funnily enough, Helia seems the type to do exactly that. To get back at me. To make me angry. To piss me off, or to even just prove his point.
My eyes shut, and an image of his eyes on me as he kisses Lilith flickers through my mind. Disgusted with myself, this mental image makes me cringe. I won’t give in. I could never see myself with someone like him. Never in my life.
My muscles finally relax under the hot water. The peace that consumes me is a rare reprieve. The water manages to release the tension from my body, and my shoulders drop, my body floating.
A loud thud comes from my bedroom. I flinch and snap my eyes open.
Water slouches around me, and I wrap my arms around my knees. The aroma of lavender is gone, and the cold air of the bathroom seeps into my bare skin, making goosebumps rise.
My heart beats erratically.
It’s him.
It is definitely him.
I know it.
I knew he was growing far too confident.
With fear gripping my throat and my heart racing a hundred miles an hour in my chest, I snatch the towel off the hook and wrap it around me, rushing out of the bathroom and into my bedroom with bare feet and water dripping down my body. A piece of rolled paper wrapped in a green bow sits on top of my bed.
I shudder and gasp for air. My lungs squeeze as I struggle for oxygen, and my eyes water at the lack of it. I frantically look around. Am I alone? What made the thud?
I spot the open balcony window.
The curtains flare angrily, thrashing in the strong wind.
He was here.
He came through the window, and he left a fucking note.
I stand still, unable to move or do anything but watch the piece of paper like a hawk, willing it to disappear, to be a fragment of my imagination, but it’s not.
A small cry climbs up my throat. My eyes sting, but I swallow the painful lump down.
With shaky fingers and weak legs, I stumble around, shutting the balcony doors before heading to my bed. With trembling fingers, I reach out and grab the paper, my eyes fixed on the balcony in case he comes back.
I tug on the ribbon and uncurl the paper.
Even the worst of sinners deserves to see a glimpse of heaven.
You’ve managed to bring hell on earth for everyone.
There is no signature, nor any indication of who this could be from, but I know. I just know it’s from the man who has stood outside my balcony in my garden for the past few months.
The worst part is, I never imagined I’d be someone’s object of obsession. I don’t see myself ever stepping a foot into heaven after what I did.
He’s right. I did that.
I did bring hell to everyone’s life here.
That nineteen million won’t be enough for me to survive on. It won’t be enough to help the families of those I ruined in my desperate attempt to impress my father.
I destroyed people’s lives. I ruined people’s images and killed their self-esteem in fits of anger, jealousy, and boosts of ego.
A person like me doesn’t deserve to be called an obsession.
It feels like this note is mocking me.
Maybe it is.