Chapter 10
ELIZABETH
Iarrived at the studio first thing in the morning with a knot in my stomach that had been there since I’d woken up.
Yesterday’s failed photoshoot kept replaying in my head.
I had felt like a fish out of water. That wasn’t a good metaphor because a fish would have been flopping.
I was still as a statue with about as much personality.
I was so embarrassed. Adrian was a natural in front of the camera. After a little Googling, I figured out why. He was a model. I was engaged to a freaking model! Of course I was going to look ridiculous trying to keep up with him.
But today I was going to do my best to look like the woman he was going to marry.
The pictures from the press conference had actually looked pretty good.
For those, I’d only had a five-minute tutorial.
Surely, with a real training session I could loosen up enough to look like a human instead of a robot.
When I walked in, the first person I saw was Sebastian. He was lounging in a director’s chair with one leg crossed over the other, looking like he’d just stepped out of a photoshoot himself. And he wasn’t alone.
The two models from the fitting room—both impossibly tall and beautiful—flanked him like matching bookends. One was draped across the arm of his chair, the other leaning against his shoulder, both laughing at something he’d said.
And all that confidence I tried to pump into my veins evaporated the second I saw them.
“Elizabeth!” Sebastian called out when he saw me, disentangling himself from the women. “Welcome to modeling boot camp. These lovely ladies are Natasha and Simone. They’re going to help us turn you into a camera-ready goddess.”
Natasha—or maybe it was Simone, I couldn’t remember which was which—gave me an assessing look. “She’s got good bones. We can work with this.”
“Thanks?” I said uncertainly.
Sebastian grinned. “Don’t worry, we’ll be gentle. Mostly. Adrian should be here any minute. He texted saying he got held up with a phone call.”
As if summoned, the studio door opened and Adrian walked in. He was wearing dark jeans and a black button-down with the sleeves rolled up, somehow managing to look both casual and devastatingly handsome. His eyes found me immediately. I felt that now-familiar flutter in my stomach.
“Morning,” he said, setting down a coffee carrier with five cups. “Figured everyone could use caffeine.”
The models descended on the coffee like beautiful, graceful vultures. I hung back, trying not to stare at Adrian’s forearms. When had forearms become so distracting?
“Alright,” Adrian said, all business now. “Elizabeth, the issue yesterday was that you looked uncomfortable. So today we’re going to practice until being in front of a camera feels natural. We’ll try different things. Whatever it takes.”
“Okay,” I said, my voice small.
“First, let’s work on basic posture.” He moved toward me, and I immediately tensed. “See? That. That’s what we need to fix. You can’t lock up every time someone approaches you. No one is going to hurt you. Stop acting like you’re about to be beat.”
“I’m not—” But I was. I absolutely was.
For the next hour, they put me through my paces. Stand here, no, shift your weight, no, not like that. Smile, but don’t show your teeth, actually show some teeth, now you look manic. Hands at your sides, no that’s too stiff, on your hips, no that’s too aggressive.
I felt like a puppet with tangled strings.
Natasha demonstrated a proper runway walk and wanted me to imitate it. “Hips forward, shoulders back, one foot directly in front of the other, chin slightly lifted.”
She made it look effortless, gliding down the makeshift runway like she was floating.
“Your turn,” Sebastian said.
I tried. I really did. But halfway down the runway, I forgot which foot was supposed to go where, overcompensated, and nearly tripped over my own feet.
“Okay, maybe we skip the runway walk for now,” Sebastian said diplomatically. “You shouldn’t be required to do that anyway. But it’s good to have done it at least once.”
They changed the music because Simone said I wasn’t vibing with it, whatever the hell that meant. They put on something upbeat and poppy that was supposed to make me feel energetic. It just made me more aware of how awkward I was moving to the beat.
They changed the lighting, thinking it would make me more comfortable.
Nope.
They put me in different dresses, different styles, trying to find something that would make me feel more confident. Nothing worked. Never mind two women with perfect bodies had seen me in my underwear. There was no shame.
Through it all, Adrian watched. He stood off to the side with his arms crossed, his dark eyes tracking my every move. It was like trying to perform with a spotlight burning into me.
“Elizabeth, relax your shoulders,” he called out.
I tried. They went up higher.
“No, like this.” He crossed to me and grabbed my shoulders, pressing them down. His touch was firm but not rough. Every nerve ending in my body lit up like a Christmas tree. “There. See how that feels different?”
I couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe. He was so close I could smell his cologne. It was woodsy and warm. Chocolate and spice. I couldn’t decipher it but when he cleared his throat, I was quickly reminded I wasn’t there to smell him.
“Now, let’s try the arm placement again.” He took my wrist, lifting my arm and positioning it just so. His fingers were warm against my skin.
“Better,” he said, stepping back to assess. “But you’re still too rigid through your core. Here.”
He placed his hands on my hips, adjusting my stance. I nearly whimpered. It was torture. Beautiful, confusing torture.
“Tilt your chin up. No, too much. Here.” His hand cupped my jaw, tilting my face to the angle he wanted.
My eyes met his. For a second, neither of us moved.
His thumb rested just below my lower lip.
I could feel the warmth of his palm against my cheek.
His eyes were so dark, almost black in the studio lighting, and they were looking at me with an intensity that made my knees weak.
And dammit, I was turned on. I tried to close my thighs tight to stop the reaction that was completely involuntary.
Then he stepped back abruptly. “Good. Hold that position.”
But I couldn’t. The moment he wasn’t touching me, I forgot what position I was supposed to be holding. I was pretty sure I’d forgotten how to exist in my own body.
This was a disaster.
“Let’s take five,” Adrian said, his jaw tight. “Elizabeth, stay loose. We’ll try again in a few minutes.”
He walked away, pulling out his phone. I sagged with relief and disappointment in equal measure.
Sebastian sidled up beside me. “You know, you’re actually making this harder than it needs to be.”
“I know,” I said miserably. “I’m trying.”
“Are you though?” He studied me with those same dark eyes he shared with Adrian, but his held mischief where Adrian’s held intensity. “Because from where I’m standing, you’re thinking too much. Modeling isn’t about thinking. It’s about feeling.”
“That’s very Zen of you.”
“I’m a man of many depths.” He grinned. “Come on, let’s try something. Natasha, Simone, help me out here.”
The models returned, and suddenly I was in the middle of an impromptu dance party. Sebastian cranked up the music, and all three of them started moving, not posed or practiced, just having fun.
“Come on,” Natasha urged, taking my hands. “Just move. Don’t think about it.”
I looked over to where Adrian had been standing, but he was gone.
He was frustrated with me. I didn’t blame him. I was frustrating myself.
“He’s not mad at you,” Sebastian said, noticing where I was looking.
“Yes, he is.”
“He’s mad at the situation. There’s a difference.” Sebastian gestured to the runway. “Come on, let’s try again while he’s gone. No pressure.”
Without Adrian watching, I felt like I could breathe again. The vise around my chest loosened.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s try.”
This time, when Natasha demonstrated a pose, I didn’t overthink it. I just copied what she did. When Simone showed me how to walk, I didn’t worry about getting it perfect. I just walked.
“Better!” Sebastian called out. “See? You can do this.”
We ran through different scenarios. Without Adrian’s intense gaze on me, it started to feel almost… fun? The models were encouraging, Sebastian was making jokes, and slowly, I stopped feeling like an alien in a human suit.
“Now we’re talking,” Natasha said, snapping photos on her phone. “Look at you go!”
I did a spin, arms outstretched, and for the first time all day, it felt natural. Felt right.
“Okay, Elizabeth,” Sebastian said with a cocky grin. “What is the deal? You’re clearly a natural at this. So why did you look like you were facing a firing squad earlier?”
I hesitated, not wanting to admit it.
“It’s Adrian,” I said quietly.
“What about him?”
“I get starstruck. Around him. It’s never happened to me before, but when he’s in the room, I can’t think straight. I can barely breathe.”
Sebastian’s eyebrows shot up. Then a slow grin spread across his face. “Oh, this is interesting.”
“Don’t,” I warned. “Don’t you dare tell him.”
“Tell him what? That you’re terrified of him?”
“I’m not terrified. I’m just… intimidated. He’s Adrian Blackwell. He’s—” I gestured vaguely, trying to encompass everything Adrian was. “He’s everything. And I’m nobody.”
“You’re not nobody,” Simone said firmly. “You’re his fiancée.”
Sebastian nodded like he got it. “Ladies, I think our friend Elizabeth needs a confidence boost. What do you say we show her what she’s capable of?”
What followed was the most surreal hour of my life. The three of them treated me like I was already one of them—a professional, someone who belonged in this world. They taught me tricks of the trade, how to find my light, how to make subtle adjustments that looked natural on camera.
And without Adrian watching, I flourished.
I walked that runway like I owned it. Posed like I’d been doing it for years. Smiled without forcing it. Even the turns—which had seemed impossible earlier—came naturally now.
“Yes!” Sebastian cheered as I completed a particularly tricky pivot. “That’s what I’m talking about!”
By the end, we’d got dozens of great shots. Sebastian showed me his phone—photo after photo of me looking confident, natural, like I actually belonged in front of a camera.
“These are amazing,” I breathed.
“You’re amazing,” Natasha corrected. “You just needed to get out of your own head.”
“And out from under my brother’s overwhelming presence,” Sebastian added. He gave me a pointed look. “Though I have to say, I’m a little offended. I’m just as famous as Adrian, you know. More charming. Definitely better looking—”
“Your ego will survive,” I said, nodding toward where the models had returned to his sides like magnets. “Seems pretty healthy to me.”
Simone laughed. “She’s got you there.”
“Please don’t tell Adrian what I said. About being starstruck. I’m scared enough of him as it is.”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” Sebastian promised. Then his grin turned wicked. “Though I make no promises about how long I can resist teasing him with it.”
“Sebastian.”
“Relax. I’ll be subtle.” He looked at the photos on his phone again. “But we do need to figure out how to get you this comfortable when Adrian’s actually around. Because these photos? These are gold. But they don’t do us any good if you freeze up the moment he enters the room.”
He was right. I just had no idea how to fix it.
How do you stop being starstruck by someone who looks like Adrian Blackwell? Who commands every room he enters? Who makes you forget how to breathe with just a glance?
“Maybe I just need more time with him,” I suggested weakly. “Get used to being around him.”
“Or, maybe you need to stop seeing him as Adrian Blackwell, fashion icon, and start seeing him as just Adrian. The guy. The human.”
I sighed. They were right, but it was a lot easier said than done.