Chapter Thirteen
Miles
I stood near the set, fiddling with the collar of the jacket they’d thrown on me, trying not to sweat through it.
God, there were so many people. Lights. Cameras. Makeup artists running past. Photographers shouting things I barely understood. It was chaos—but it was exciting. New.
And I was trying—really trying—not to screw it all up.
But then he walked out.
Julian Vale.
Even if I hadn’t already been watching the hallway like some sad, eager puppy, I would’ve noticed. The air shifted. Like the room held its breath.
His face was calm. Smooth. Expressionless in that way only models seem to master. The kind of mask that said I don’t feel a thing.
But I saw it.
The way his shoulders sat too high, like they’d forgotten how to relax.
The stiffness in his spine, not grace—tension.
His jaw, tight. Like he’d been grinding his teeth or holding back words that burned.
His fingers curled faintly at his sides, and his knuckles grew white for a second before he forced them to ease. And his eyes.
Jesus. His eyes.
Empty. Dark. Like someone had turned the light off behind them.
The smile on his lips was flawless.
But his eyes...
They didn’t match.
My chest tightened. The same way it used to when I’d see my sister come home pretending school was fine but her eyes told me otherwise.
Something had happened in that dressing room.
I didn’t know what.
But I knew the difference between bored and broken.
I licked my lips, glanced down at the floor, then back up.
Julian didn’t even glance my way as he passed. Like I wasn’t there. Like I was invisible.
But I saw him.
And I wasn’t going to forget what I saw.
Not today.
“All right, Bennett—closer. Hand on his waist. Tilt your chin down, eyes on him. Vale, same pose as the last shot. Don’t stiffen this time.”
The photographer’s sharp voice cut through the air. Every muscle in my body tensed. I gulped, glancing at Julian.
He still looked like he hadn’t slept. His jaw tight, his stare blank—but sharper than glass. Even after the first shoot, the one I thought I’d barely survived, the guy still scared the hell out of me.
“Uh—” I hesitated, lifting my hand halfway toward him. “This okay?”
Julian let out that same familiar sigh—low, exasperated. “Still asking?” His voice was quiet, rough like he’d smoked a hundred cigarettes but didn’t care enough to inhale. “Just do what they tell you, Bennett.”
Then he grabbed my wrist—firm, no hesitation—and set my hand flat on his waist himself. “There. Now you’re learning,” he muttered without looking at me.
His skin was warm under the fabric. Tight. Tense.
A string pulled too far.
I exhaled slowly, nerves fluttering. The camera clicked before I could think.
“Closer, Bennett. You’re selling chemistry—not casual strangers in line at a coffee shop.”
I edged in, feeling every inch of space shrink between us. Julian didn’t even blink. Like he’d done this a thousand times before. Like I wasn’t even there. “Try not to look like you’re gonna bolt this time,” Julian murmured, his lips barely moving. “You survived the first shoot. Relax.”
“Right. Easy for you to say,” I mumbled, trying not to step on his shoes. “I’m new. I still care if I mess up.”
His pale eyes flicked sideways at me, just a little. “That’s your problem.”
Click.
I shifted, swallowing back the nervous energy buzzing in my chest.
“All right—Bennett, hand on his chest, Vale—hold his wrist. Make it look natural.”
Natural. Sure.
I raised my hand, pausing for a second, glancing at Julian.
“Okay if—”
Julian rolled his eyes—hard—and grabbed my hand, dragging it up to his chest without ceremony. “Stop asking. You make it awkward when you ask,” he muttered. “Just do it.”
His heartbeat was steady under my palm. His body was rigid—but I caught the smallest flicker in his throat when Victor’s voice barked from behind the camera. “Touch him like you mean it, rookie! He’s not a mannequin.”
I winced. Julian didn’t flinch. Not even a twitch.
“Sorry,” I whispered, gripping gently.
“Stop apologizing too,” Julian muttered, barely moving his mouth. “God, you’re exhausting.”
Click. Flash.
“Eyes up, Bennett. Look at him—closer. Smile. Vale—softer mouth. Lose the boredom.”
Julian sighed through his nose but adjusted the angle of his face. His gaze locked on mine—perfectly empty, perfectly professional. I forced a real smile.
Because someone in this shot had to.
“Better. Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“Fake it ‘til you make it,” I whispered mostly to myself.
And for the first time Julian’s mouth twitched—just a little. Like maybe he’d heard.
Click. Flash.
“Okay—last ones. Bennett, hand on his hip this time.”
I hesitated again—but this time, Julian moved first. His hand shot out, grabbed my wrist, and set it exactly where the photographer wanted. “Don’t ask,” he muttered without heat. “Just get it over with.”
I let him adjust me. My hand rested against the sharp line of his hip bone. His body heat bled through the expensive fabric.
The camera fired again. Click. Click.
He didn’t even look at me anymore. Just past me. Like I was a plant or the damn wall.
I swallowed. Hard.
The shoot dragged on—pose after pose. Angle, smile, move, closer. Julian shifted like a machine. Perfect. Effortless. Emotionless.
But I kept catching it.
The way his fingers twitched after Victor snapped an order. The way his throat worked like he was forcing something down. He wasn’t made of ice. No matter how hard he pretended.
“All right. That’s it. Break for now,” the photographer called finally. “Back in an hour.”
I stepped back, chest tight, feeling my heart slow.
Julian didn’t say a word. He peeled away like a shadow and walked off before I could even think of what to say.
I watched him disappear down the hall.
Perfect. Controlled. But not unbreakable.
And I swore right then...
I was going to figure him out.