Chapter 13
SEBASTIAN
By mid-afternoon, the shoot had found its rhythm.
After the disastrous start, we finally settled into a productive groove.
Clarissa looked incredible in Elizabeth’s designs.
The colors worked with the natural landscape, and all of it was coming together better than I’d hoped.
Was it exactly what I planned out on my storyboard? No. But it was definitely working.
Elizabeth stood beside me, watching the monitor as the photographers worked through a series of group shots with Clarissa, Tempest, and Portia. The three models had great chemistry together, playing off each other naturally, making the clothes look like something any woman would be lucky to wear.
“This is beautiful,” Elizabeth said softly, her eyes bright. “Sebastian, this is exactly what I imagined. Better, even.”
The praise was everything. It was the validation I had been looking for. “Your designs make my job easy. They photograph like a dream.”
“Don’t downplay what you’re doing. The composition, the way you’re directing the models, and the locations you chose are all working together perfectly.”
I wanted to point out that one of my location choices could have gotten someone hurt, but I kept my mouth shut. We were having a moment. A good moment. I wasn’t going to ruin it with self-deprecation or reminders of this morning’s drama.
“Thanks,” I said instead. “That means a lot.”
She squeezed my arm, then went back to watching the shoot with a smile on her face. I couldn’t screw this up. Not for her. Not for any of them.
“Alright!” I called out once we’d gotten the shots we needed. “Let’s wrap on this setup and move to the lagoon. We’ve got maybe three hours of good light left.”
“Lunch!” someone called out.
Shit. I did have to allow them the chance to eat. That was in the contracts.
“Thirty minutes,” I said. “Seriously, guys, we need to keep going.”
There was some grumbling as people left their equipment and moved together as a group down to the craft services tent.
I grabbed one of the turkey wraps from the table and a bottle of water, then found a spot in the shade where Elizabeth was already sitting.
She’d gotten the same thing I had, though hers looked significantly more appetizing than mine.
I was pretty sure mine was mostly lettuce.
After the beer binge the night before, I had to give my gut a break.
“It’s going well,” she said between bites.
I nodded. “So far so good.”
“What’s the next spot?”
“It’s that’s pretty lagoon I showed you.”
Elizabeth’s smile brightened. “Oh, I love that spot. I forgot that was on today’s schedule.”
“Are you thinking about the next line?” I asked.
She laughed. “Yes. The moment one collection is done, my brain immediately starts working on the next one.”
“That’s because you’re a workaholic. It’s a Blackwell trait. We’re all afflicted. Welcome to the family.”
“Thank you.” She took a bite of her wrap, chewed, and swallowed before continuing.
“I’m already thinking about winter. Heavier fabrics, richer colors.
I want to do something with velvet. Maybe some pieces that feel luxurious but still wearable.
I’m picturing snowy photoshoots with deep colors that pop against the white. ”
I listened as she talked through her ideas, her face lighting up the way it always did when she discussed design. She loved creating beautiful things that made women feel good about themselves.
“If this one goes well, I hope you’ll do the next campaign shoot,” Elizabeth said.
“Fingers crossed.”
“I’m going to do menswear for the winter line,” she said, like it was something she had been mulling over for a while.
“Yeah?”
“I think you’d be the perfect face for it. You know the male perspective. You know what looks good.”
I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. “You want me to model for it?”
“Model it, help design it, creative direct it—whatever you want. You’ve got great instincts, Sebastian. Today proved that.”
“Today was almost a disaster,” I said.
“Today had a rocky start,” she corrected. “But you adapted. You found a solution. You kept the production moving. That’s exactly what a good leader does.”
I took a bite of my wrap to avoid having to respond. The praise felt good, but it also felt fragile. It was day one and I started it hungover and fighting with the insurance lady.
I popped the last bite in my mouth. “I’m going to check the next spot. I’ll see you there.”
When I walked back to the cliff location, I noticed there were still some crew working. My kind of guys.
They were going through the familiar dance of breaking down equipment. “Did you guys get something to eat?”
“We’re going to move the equipment and then get some grub.”
“Thanks, guys.” I nodded and looked around.
The equipment breakdown wouldn’t take long. The lagoon was close—just a short walk through some trees. We’d scouted it during prep and it had looked promising, but I hadn’t seen it in person yet.
I walked ahead with a couple of the photographers to look for good spots. When I pushed through the vegetation and saw it, I stopped in my tracks.
It was perfect. More than perfect—it looked like something from a fairy tale.
The lagoon was tucked into a natural grotto, surrounded by volcanic rock formations that created a semi-enclosed space.
The water was crystal clear, shallow enough near the edges that you could see every grain of sand on the bottom, deepening to turquoise in the center.
Filtered sunlight came through openings in the rock overhead, creating natural spotlights that danced on the water’s surface.
That was going to highlight the model’s hair and would be a perfect backlight for the dresses.
Tropical plants grew around the edges, wild, lush vegetation that made the whole place feel undiscovered. Untouched. Like we were the first people to ever find it, even though I knew that wasn’t be true.
“Holy shit,” one of the photographers breathed behind me.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Get the cameras set up. We’re losing light and I want to capture this magic while we can.”
The crew moved into action. Cameras on tripods near the water’s edge. Lighting guys discussing whether they needed reflectors or if the natural light was enough.
I stood at the edge of the lagoon, my mind already composing shots. Models wading through the shallow water in Elizabeth’s flowing dresses. The fabric floating on the surface like lily pads. The late afternoon sun creating that golden backlight that made everything look ethereal.
I knew how to do this. In that moment, I felt it in my soul—I was in the right job.
I was about to call the models over when something stopped me. Maybe I should check with Bernadette first.
The thought popped into my head like an unwanted guest. I pushed it away. I didn’t need her approval. She’d already held up production once today. I wasn’t giving her another opportunity to shut down a great shot.
But the thought persisted, more insistent this time.
What if there was something I hadn’t thought of? Some hazard I couldn’t see? I didn’t know this lagoon well. She would have researched it right down to the names of every single plant that grew around the edge.
And from a purely selfish standpoint, any accidents or problems would reflect badly on me. It would be exactly what everyone was worried about.
I wanted to prove I could handle this. That meant being smart, not just creative. That meant checking with the insurance robot.
I looked around the lagoon area, but Bernadette was nowhere to be seen. She’d been hovering around the earlier shoot, watching everything with those sharp eyes, but I hadn’t seen her in at least an hour.
“Hey,” I called to one of the production assistants. “Have you seen Ms. Simmons? The insurance rep?”
“Oh, that bitch?” He laughed. “Let’s hope she fell off that cliff.”
Another crew member overheard and chimed in. “With any luck, she’s lost in the jungle. Maybe the coconuts will get her.”
A few people laughed. I felt a twinge of guilt but pushed it down.
She’d made her bed this morning. It wasn’t my job to protect her from the consequences.
These people were all here to do a job and get paid.
If she continued to grind things to a halt, we were screwed.
We had a tight timeline. The models had other jobs booked.
“Anyone actually seen her?” I asked again.
Most people shook their heads or shrugged. But one of the wardrobe assistants pointed vaguely toward the beach. “Yeah, I think she went that way a while ago. Toward those rocks past the shoot location. Maybe she won’t come back.”
More laughter. That made me feel gross.
Growing up, I had been lucky enough to always be one of the cool kids in school.
And my adult life had certainly been kind.
I never had to feel like the loser—except for in my own family sometimes.
People didn’t ostracize me or talk shit about me.
Not usually. There had been a few haters over the years, but that was inevitable.
Someone with my money and family name was always going to have haters.
I just went home to my luxury penthouse and expensive liquor with a beautiful woman and forgot about them.
Bernadette didn’t have that option out here. Hell, I doubted she had that option back in New York.
I walked away from the lagoon, back through the trees, toward where the assistant had pointed. I didn’t know why I was doing this. Bernadette had made it clear she thought I was incompetent. The crew hated her. It would be easier to just proceed without her input.
But Briggs’s voice echoed in my head. And unfortunately, I knew he was right.
I reached the beach and looked around. The main shoot area was behind me, the crew busy with setup. Ahead, the beach curved around some volcanic rock formations, creating little coves and hidden spots.
I walked along the sand, checking the obvious places. Nothing.
Then I heard it. A sound so quiet I almost missed it under the crash of waves and call of birds. Someone crying.
I followed the sound into the trees, pushing past some low-hanging branches until I found a small clearing with a large rock. And sitting on that rock, hands covering her face, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs, was Bernadette.
Fuck.
She hadn’t heard me approach. She was completely lost in her misery. I could walk away and pretend I never saw a thing. I could leave her alone to wallow.
But I didn’t.
“I didn’t know robots could cry.”
She jerked upright, hands flying away from her face. Her eyes were red and swollen, her cheeks streaked with tears. Her lips looked chapped and she just looked sad.
And absolutely human.
“Go away,” she said, her voice rough. “Just go away, Sebastian. I cannot deal with your shit right now.”
“I was looking for you.”
“Well, congratulations. You found me. Mission accomplished. Do you want to send up a flare so your little crew can come over and make fun of me? Look at me and laugh?”
I flinched at the anger in her voice. “No.”
“Go away. Just leave me alone.” She tried to turn away, to hide her face, but there was nowhere to go. She was trapped on her rock, and I was standing between her and the path back.