Chapter 12 #2
I stopped just short of the camera setup and turned to face her fully.
“She understood enough to get the job done,” I said, voice cool. “And she’s not slow-witted.”
Elena blinked, then offered a brittle smile. “Well. That’s…good.”
Everyone took their place, and the shoot began.
I clenched my jaw every time the photographer barked another instruction.
Smile.
Look at her like you adore her.
Pull her closer.
Arm around the waist.
Lean in.
Tilt your head.
Kiss her cheek.
Then came the dealbreaker.
“Mr. Vaughn, if you could kiss her now. We want to capture the perfect image of a happy couple for Manhattan, the Bronx, and beyond,” came that incessant photographer’s voice.
I nearly walked out.
But I knew what was at stake. Sterling needed convincing. If seeing a picture of me kissing his daughter made him stop stalling on the logistics, then fine. One kiss. One perfectly staged image.
I leaned in and brushed my lips against Elena’s. Brief. Noncommittal.
But apparently, she missed the memo. She wrapped her arms around my neck and opened her mouth like she planned to devour me.
That was it.
An awkward silence filled the room as everyone stared at us in stunned surprise.
“Luca, wait—” Elena laughed, too loudly, too forced, trying to smooth it over.
The photographer cleared his throat. “We can try again—maybe from a different angle—”
“No.” My voice was clipped. “We’re done.”
Elena stepped close, whispering so only I could hear. “Luca, why are you doing this here? Everyone’s watching.”
I didn’t respond. I was already walking away.
“I said we’re done, Elena,” I repeated, louder this time.
She froze, her eyes darting around the room. Everyone was still staring, confused. Expecting the picture-perfect couple.
Her shoulders stiffened.
“Everybody out,” she snapped.
At first, no one moved. They just stood, shocked, contemplating whether she was serious or not.
“I said, get out!” Elena bellowed, throwing down a ring light.
This time, they scrambled on their feet, snatching their lights, reflectors, and camera gear in a flurry of awkward, anxious movements. No one dared make eye contact. And when the last crew member closed the door behind them, silence crashed into the room.
Elena turned slowly.
She crossed the floor with slow, deliberate steps. Her expression was soft, rehearsed. The kind of softness designed to seduce, not soothe.
“What’s wrong, Luca?” she asked. “You look…tense.”
She kept moving, weaving toward the sofa where I sat. The glint in her eye wasn’t concern. It was hunger. Ego. Possession.
“You know,” she purred, sliding down to her knees, “I could always help you take the edge off. All you have to do is ask. Whenever, wherever.”
She smirked as she reached for her hair, pulling it back into a ponytail like she’d done this performance a hundred times.
“Elena—” My voice came out in a growl, a warning.
But she was already reaching for the zipper of my slacks, her fingers moving with practiced ease.
I flinched back sharply as I stood too fast, knocking her off balance. She landed on the carpet with a startled gasp, more shocked than hurt.
Frustration cracked through her expression. “What, Luca?” she snapped, climbing to her feet. “You never let me touch you. You never even look at me.”
She stepped forward again, her chest lifted, eyes blazing with indignation.
“Do you have any idea how many men would kill to have me in their bed for a single night?” She pressed herself against me, allowing her hands to slide across my waist, her fingers curling toward my belt. “Don’t you find me attractive? Don’t you want me?”
When her hand moved lower, aimed straight for my cock, I grabbed her wrist in one swift motion.
Her breath caught.
I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t need to. The words came like they’d been dipped in ice.
“Don’t ever touch me like that again.”
My grip didn’t loosen until I saw the flicker in her eyes. The fear beneath her pride. Only then did I release her.
I didn’t wait for a response. Didn’t spare her a backward glance.
I walked out of that studio with fire in my blood and her perfume clinging to my suit like a stain I couldn’t wash off fast enough.
In the days that followed, I couldn’t concentrate. Uncertainty gnawed at me—along with the irrepressible suspicion that Ollie was mine.
Nights were filled with thoughts of her. Of the kid. Of the possibility that he was mine. That I’d spent five fucking years angry with her, while she carried my child. Our child.
And it wasn’t just the nights. The days, too—meetings, briefings, deals—blurred with distraction.
More than ever, I needed the truth. I needed to get close to Ollie, get a strand of his hair, and do the DNA test. Only then would I be at ease. Only then would I know.
“So, what do you think of the designs?” Karl Zen asked. He was grinning like an idiot, beaming as if he’d just handed me something revolutionary.
“I personally shortlisted these,” he added. “They’re some of the best I’ve come across. With these, we have a real shot at winning the Alpha’s Grand Summit contract.”
I didn’t respond. I just reached for the folder and flipped through it without any real interest.
“You say these are the best you’ve come across?” I muttered.
He bobbed his head eagerly. “Yes, sir.”
I tossed the folder back at him. “These are average at best.”
The grin slid clean off his face.
Unbelievable. This was my head of design. This position had been between him and Leila five years ago, and she was going to get it. Not out of sentiment, but out of merit. She was that good. But he got it instead because of…what had happened.
Regret twisted low in my gut.
The best design I’d ever seen came from Leila. What he just showed me didn’t even come close.
“I could tell the team to redo the—” Karl started, voice shaky.
I raised a hand. He shut up.
“Don’t bother,” I said coldly. “You and your team aren’t capable of producing anything good enough to win at the Grand Summit.”
But I know who could.
Before I could rethink the decision, I said, “We’re opening submissions. A select few candidates only. And by ‘select few’, I mean one. A candidate of my choosing.”
“Get me the requirements for the design. I want it on my desk by tomorrow morning.”
Karl’s mouth opened, then shut again. He simply went with the wise choice to nod.
“In the meantime,” I added, “you and your team should sit down and figure out why I should keep you on payroll when all you deliver is mediocrity.”
His face went pale. He scrambled to collect the folder and scurried out of my office.
I leaned back in my chair, feeling a wave of confidence wash over me. I could win this contract if I brought Leila on board.