31. West
CHAPTER 31
WEST
As it turns out, it’s even harder to concentrate at work the day after you’ve helped your best friend’s little sister have an orgasm. I was so hard after I left her in her bed, drowsy and dazed, that I had to jerk off twice before falling into exhausted sleep.
I still woke up aching.
I’m short with my assistant and my colleagues all day. They pick up on it, but no one comments, and I’m counting the minutes until I can leave Fairhaven and drive to pick Nora up from a fashion shoot in the city—one she booked far in advance and couldn’t cancel.
I’ll take her directly from the shoot to the Fashion Institute’s fundraising event after. She really wants to go, and we need to be seen in public. Win-win.
Arthur drives me into the city when it’s time. Nora’s fashion shoot is in downtown Manhattan, in an old brick building with giant windows. Looks like some kind of converted warehouse. I take the stairs two at a time and catch sight of my guards standing outside a door.
“Everything all right?” I ask.
“Yes,” Miguel says. He’s a prior-service marine and excellent at his job. “They’re inside. Seems like the shoot is running late.”
“Thanks.” I push open the door.
The room is huge. It’s teeming with activity, people bustling about. There’s a makeup station and a giant rack of clothes. I spot the other two guards first. One is by the windows, and the other is standing closer to the photographer.
And there she is.
I stop dead in my tracks.
She’s in lingerie… and only lingerie.
There are other models around her, but she’s all I see. Her hair is tousled, falling dark around her face. Pale, golden skin on display with only a few scraps of dark lace that cover almost nothing.
She’s stretched out on a velvet couch, legs curled slightly. One arm is draped over the back, the other resting on her bare hip. She looks at the camera and slowly changes her pose. Where she looks, the tilt of her chin, her outstretched leg.
She makes it all look fluid. Easy .
Her bra is lacy and ornate, and a small pearl hangs between her tits. My eyes zero in on it, dangling there. As if her beauty needs accessorizing.
A man in a suit stands behind her, holding out a tray with a glass of champagne on it to her, like he’s a waiter. He’s young. Face clean-shaven, all hard angles.
Another male model is lying on the ground in front of her, holding up another tray with a bowl of grapes.
The photographer calls out directions, and Nora shifts, reaching for the champagne glass. Her fingers brush against the man’s as she takes it. She looks up at him with hooded eyes, and there’s nothing virginal about that gaze.
She looks powerful. A woman who knows what she wants and knows she’s wanted in return. It’s convincing.
But I know just how convincing she can be.
She arches her back. My gaze drifts to the perky tops of her tits, the perfect handhold, and I have to ball my hands into fists. I want to cover her up.
I want to end this entire shoot.
She doesn’t want to be here. Didn’t even want to model, has been trying to phase out of it, and yet here she is , doing a beautiful job of it anyway. Because she was asked to. Because she’s kind, and supportive, and doesn’t want to inconvenience anyone.
Madison is standing on the left side of the shoot, past attendants and the photographer click-click-clicking. I force my locked muscles to move and reach her.
“Sir,” she says.
“How long has this been going?”
“Most of the day. No deliveries from the suspect.”
I nod. After the letter that was delivered with the photographs, we’re all expecting the stalker to make further contact. And whenever that happens, I want it intercepted before it reaches Nora.
Nora’s reclining all the way now, her head propped up on an arm.
It hurts to look at her. That’s the way her beauty is: a dagger, sharp and piercing. And yet the pain doesn’t stop me from looking.
There are so many people here. All watching her and the two male models who are still so fucking close to her. I want to order everyone else to look away. But I can’t, and the jealousy is a painful thing inside me. It’s not right, to feel like that. I have no fucking right to it. And yet here it is.
Nora tilts her head up, looks off into the distance…
And spots me.
Her movements falter. The graceful, slow change of positions stutters, but then she remembers where she is and looks back toward the camera.
It takes about ten more minutes before the photographer yells “cut.” Every single minute feels like an eternity.
“That’s a wrap!” the photographer calls out. “We’ve got it!”
The music is immediately turned down. Voices rise in volume, and two people high-five in the back. Up on the set, Nora relaxes. She smiles and starts chatting with the male models. Their expressions were blank before. Now they’re smiling, two statues suddenly come to life.
Nora stands, still wearing just a pair of lacy underwear, the fabric hugging the curve of her ass. I cross the space to her.
One of the models sees me coming. “Didn’t know you had a boyfriend, Nora,” he tells her. He has a lilting European accent I can’t place.
I’m already shrugging out of my jacket and wrapping it around her. “Hey.”
“Hi,” she says, and the smile she gives me makes me breathe easier.
I look over at the guy. “She does. It’s pretty new.”
“Well, you make a cute couple,” he says.
Nora pulls my jacket tighter around her. “Thanks for today,” she tells the models. “You can finally eat one of those grapes, Pawel.”
“I’ve been dreaming of it all day.”
“Gentlemen,” I say to them both. My chest is tight, and I can’t make myself sound nicer than that. Even if they haven’t done anything wrong.
“See you later, guys,” she says. They return her warm smile. One of them holds out the tray with grapes to her, and she laughingly grabs one on the way past. “Finally!”
We walk off the lit set, my jacket still draped over her. People are packing, rolling away a rack of clothes.
But plenty of them are looking at us too.
She’s a name in this industry. Has done plenty of these shoots since she was only a teenager. Maybe the stalker worked on a shoot like this. Handled lights, sound, styling. Gained an unhealthy obsession…
I should ask her for a list of all of her modeling jobs. Give them to my security team. Check every single staff member.
“You okay?” I ask her.
“Yes. I could ask you the same thing.”
“Me?”
“You look angry. Did something happen today?”
“No. Everything’s fine.”
Nora gives me another long look, her eyes searching. “You’re annoyed about something. The shoot went a bit long, and I’m sorry. Didn’t want you to have to wait.”
“I was early. It wasn’t a problem.”
She stops at a leather duffel bag in the corner. Next to it is a half-finished smoothie and a phone plugged into the wall outlet. “You sure? You said you’re always honest.” She pushes up the sleeves of my jacket so she can rummage through her bag.
“Yes. At least they gave you snacks.”
She looks over at the smoothie with a small laugh. “That was my lunch.”
“You haven’t even finished it.”
“I’ve been in my underwear all day.” She rolls her neck. “God, I can’t wait to grab a burger. And fries.”
Cold anger rolls through me. I’m getting her a proper meal as soon as this is over. “Is there a dressing room somewhere?”
“Yes. I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll follow you there,” I say.
She chuckles. “Are you my new guard now? Madison and Amos are here, you know. Miguel and Sam too.”
“I’m always your guard.” We walk to a makeshift changing room in the corner. She disappears behind a drape, and I lean against the wall outside. My hand is clenching and unclenching.
But I can’t resist the urge.
“Why did you do this shoot?” I ask her.
There’s silence on the other side of the drapes. “I told you, it was for a new brand that my brother bought. It’s up-and-coming.”
“That’s not why I asked.”
“They needed models.”
“There are thousands of models in New York.”
There’s a rustle of clothes behind the curtain, and I imagine the slide of lace off her hips, the release of her tits. “My modeling agent works closely with my brother. He just bought this brand for Maison Valmont, and it shows… confidence in them if I’m in their first campaign post-acquisition.”
They’re words she’s been told. Probably by Rafe.
“But you don’t want to model anymore,” I tell her.
There’s another long few seconds of silence. “Are we practicing arguing again?”
“I’m arguing with you for you.”
“That doesn’t make a lot of sense.”
“It makes perfect sense.” My eyes catch the faintest of movement behind the microscopic slit of the curtain. “You performed up there, with those male models. Didn’t you?”
“Of course I did.”
“Did they touch you?”
“Only a few times.” The curtain is pulled back, and there she is, handing me my jacket. She’s in a black cocktail dress. It hugs her body, coming down almost to her ankles. Her hair is in big, bouncy curls, loose around her face like she’s spent an entire afternoon in bed. “It’s what I’ve been trained to do. There’s an expectation, yes… but I know I can meet it.” She shrugs a little, but there’s high color on her cheeks. “I’m in control because I’m playing a character.”
“And the men?”
“We’re acting,” she says. “There’s no real intimacy.”
“Did you want to do the shoot today?” I ask her.
“It doesn’t matter what I want. I was asked, and I said yes. And now I’m done with the shoot.” Her voice is annoyed. Good.
“But what will you do the next time your agent, or your mother, or Rafe asks you?” I put out an arm and brace it against the other side of the opening, blocking the way. “What will you tell them?”
Her lips part on a sharp exhale. “I don’t know. I’ll figure it out when it happens.”
“You’ll stand up to them,” I tell her. “Because it’s your life, and you’re the only one allowed to decide what you’ll do with it. Doesn’t matter if they think it’s a great opportunity. Doesn’t matter if it would make them happy.”
“You’re pushing too hard.” Her words are sharp, but the spark in her eyes isn’t. “They’re my family. They’re not guys I’m trying to date.”
“Doesn’t matter, does it? You want to please them all. But you can’t please everyone, sweetheart.”
“I know that. Of course I know that.”
“So what will you say? When they want you to model again?” I lean in an inch. “Please, Nora. Your face would help sales. It’s just one afternoon.”
She puts a hand on my chest. “You’re in my way, Calloway.”
“That’s my girl.”
“I’m done modeling,” she continues. “Thanks but no thanks.”
My lips curve. Always so polite, even when she’s drawing a boundary. “That’s it. And if they push even more, you know what you’ll do?”
“What?”
I lean in closer. “You’ll get angry.”