Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
MAIA
“Don’t you swim three times a week?” Gail, the production crew assistant, gave me a narrow-eyed look. She wore a slight air of impatient annoyance.
I did swim three times a week, but there was hardly anyone in the pool and I wasn’t strutting out there in a bikini that left very little to the imagination.
Unpleasant butterflies roiled in my stomach as I opened the robe again to look at myself in the mirror.
I’d provided Pennington’s with a bunch of swimwear options for both me and Bear for the fake honeymoon shoot, and the campaign management had chosen a fuchsia pink bikini set for me.
It wasn’t that I didn’t like it or that I wouldn’t wear it under normal circumstances.
It was the knowing that millions of people would see me in it that bothered me.
The bikini had a pink print inspired by Spanish tiles. The top was a halter neck with a deep V and padded cups that pushed my boobs up and together. The bottoms had a high cut with a peekaboo strip on the hips and showed a good deal of my arse cheeks.
“It’s just a lot of skin to bear to a lot of people,” I murmured.
Her expression softened. “You really are nervous, aren’t you?”
“I don’t particularly enjoy the idea that these images will be on the internet forever for anyone to look at any time they want.”
“Ugh, yeah, didn’t think about that.” She cocked her head. “If it makes you feel any better, any dirty bugger could take a photo of you on the beach and look at it anytime he wants.”
Oh my God. I whirled around, lips parted in horror.
Gail tried not to laugh at my expression and failed. “Sorry.”
“That is going to be embedded in my brain forever now.” I shuddered. “People are creepy.”
“Some really are, but we can’t stop living because of it.”
I blinked at her words because she was right. We couldn’t stop ourselves from doing things because of the actions of a few. Nodding in agreement, I shrugged out of the robe and strode across the dressing room. “Let’s do this.”
“You look gorgeous,” she assured me.
“Thank you.”
I tried not to meet anyone’s eyes as Gail walked me down the hallway and into the studio.
There were cameras and crew and a green screen behind the pool.
Outdoor furniture available to buy from Pennington’s had been set up around the pool—lounge chairs, bistro set, and inflatable armchairs, as well as smaller pieces of summer décor.
Baird stood in navy swim shorts that had a fuchsia stripe down the side to match my bikini. He was chatting with Bruno, and I immediately felt safer at the sight of him.
“Is it okay for me to tell you that your fiancé is smoking hot?” Gail murmured.
“You only speak the truth.”
As if he sensed me, Baird’s head whipped in my direction, and I tingled all over at the way his eyes moved down my body and back up again.
“Oh my God. How do you not combust at the way he looks at you?” Gail asked like a giddy schoolgirl.
“Maybe I do.” I was glad for the padded cups of my bikini because I was pretty sure my nipples were hard from that look alone.
Baird broke away from Bruno, striding toward me with that confident swagger. It was sexy that he knew he was good-looking but that he wasn’t a complete prick about it. His hair had grown out a bit, and he could tuck it behind his ears now. The manbun would be back before long.
He gave Gail a brief nod of acknowledgement before pulling me close. “You good?”
I’d told him I was nervous about this one, and he’d told me if I really wanted to, we could find a way out of it. However, I hadn’t wanted to cause a fuss. The truth was I wanted this campaign to be over so everyone would leave us in peace. “I’m good,” I promised.
“You look incredible.” His hands coasted down my back, one smoothing over my arse with a casual possessiveness. “Too good.” He waggled his brows at me suggestively.
I rolled my eyes. “You can keep it together for a couple of hours.”
“I can,” he agreed. “But I can’t promise that my monster cock can.”
My laugh was part groan as I rested my head on his chest, feeling it shake with his amusement. As promised, Baird hadn’t let me live that comment down.
A throat cleared and I realized Gail had overheard him. I playfully shoved him away. “Behave.”
Even though the pool was heated, I was pretty done with the shoot by hour two. I was weary of being directed to do things that felt unnatural, like posing midair in a jump into the pool and lying on a lounger like some kind of glamour model.
Now Baird and I were on a set of inflatable armchairs, fake splashing each other and grinning into each other’s eyes, even though I could tell Baird was over it too.
We pulled the chairs out of the water to film in front of the green screen, pretend-drinking mojitos and enjoying the sun. It was then I became aware that the plastic under my skin felt looser.
I finally processed the whistling sound.
My head whipped toward Baird who was looking down at himself and that’s when I realized his chair was deflating.
And so was mine!
Our eyes locked, and with hilarious abruptness, the whistling grew louder as we lowered toward the floor.
Either they’d burst or unplugged somehow.
Baird reached for me as I reached for him, trying to pull each other out before they completely deflated.
We couldn’t have stopped our hysterical laughter if we tried.
By the time the chairs flattened, I was collapsed over Baird, and we were laughing so hard I was crying. We could hear the crew trying to get us to pull it together, but we were too far gone.
The pressure and weirdness of the campaign had finally gotten to us and the laughter was a release.
Finally, Bruno stood over us, holding out a phone. “Pull it together, Maia! Hilary is on the line!”
I sucked in a breath, trying to calm down as I wiped at my face, and Baird helped me sit up. Why was my boss calling? Had Bruno tattled on us for ruining the shoot?
I exchanged a confused look with my fiancé and then reached for the phone. Pressing it to my ear, I asked tentatively, “Hilary?” Her name came out a little croaky because of my laughing fit.
“Maia.”
Her tone sent a chill through me and any amusement abruptly fled. “What is it?”
“A news article broke in a national tabloid an hour ago. I know you’re locked in the studio and most likely haven’t seen it. We need you to come into the office.”
“What’s the news article about?”
“It’s your mother, Maia. She sold a story to the papers.”
Blood rushed in my ears. Lips suddenly numb, I only vaguely processed the words. “What kind of story?”
“About where you grew up. That she’s a recovering addict. And you ran away when you were fifteen, leaving her to fend for herself.”
Leaving her to fend for herself?
“You need to come in. We have to talk response strategy. Bruno knows. The shoot is over. Get dressed and get here.” She hung up.
Baird pressed a hand to my back. “Maia, what’s wrong?”
I stared at the phone as that fifteen-year-old girl I used to know screamed from the back of my mind in absolute fury and heartbreak.
“Maia?”
Suddenly his face was in mine, his hands clasping my cheeks. “Maia, talk to me.”