Chapter 25
SEBASTIAN
She was the best distraction. I wanted to stand next to her and just be in her presence.
And I had no idea what that even meant. I had never wanted to just be in someone’s space before. But when it came to her, it was like a gravitational pull. She settled me. Like an anchor my soul didn’t know it was missing until I met her.
I forced myself to move away and let her work. I made my way over to where the photographers were standing with their hands on their hips as they evaluated the area.
“So we’d position the model here,” I said, pointing to the spot where the water met a shallow rocky outcrop. “She rises from the water, arms positioned like the Botticelli.”
“I don’t know, man,” Reese, one of my photographers, said with a shake of his head.
He squinted at the location. “The light is good, the background’s good, but I need to see someone actually out there.
See how the proportions work and where the water level hits.
Without that, I can’t commit to saying this’ll work. ”
“What do you need?” I asked.
“Just someone standing on that rock. Just for a few test shots.”
I looked around. The crew members with us were all guys. The models were back at the resort. That left just one person.
I walked over to where Bernadette was crouched at the water’s edge, examining something on the bottom.
“Hey,” I said. “Quick question. Would it be safe to send someone out to that rock outcrop? Just for some test photos?”
She stood, brushing sand off her knees. “Not without proper safety equipment. We don’t have life vests. We don’t have anyone trained in water rescue nearby. We haven’t even done a full stability assessment of that rock.”
“So it’s not safe.” I couldn’t help but smile at her very cute neurosis.
“I mean…” She looked out at the spot and I could see her wheels spinning. “I could get out there. The water’s shallow enough, I can swim, I know what to watch for in terms of stability. But I can’t trust anyone else to do it safely.”
My smile grew. I couldn’t help it.
Her eyes widened as she realized what she’d just said. “No. Hold on. That’s not what I meant.”
“If you don’t think it’s safe, we won’t do it,” I said quickly. “I’m not going to pressure you. But if you can get out there, just for a couple test shots, it would be amazing. Totally your call though.”
She looked at the rock. Then me. “It’s really just test shots?” she asked. “Not for the actual campaign?”
“Just tests. So Reese can see if the composition works.”
She sighed, a long-suffering sound that I was starting to recognize as her giving in to something she knew she’d regret. “Fine. Whatever. If it’ll help. But I’m keeping my clothes on.”
“Wouldn’t dream of asking otherwise.”
She handed me her phone and notebook, then kicked off her sandals. I was suddenly worried. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to send her in.
“Wait,” I said.
She looked at me. “What?”
“Don’t feel like you have to do this,” I said. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
“It’s fine. If I need help, I’ll holler.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” She waded into the water, which came up to about her knees.
“Let your hair down,” I called out.
She paused, turned to glare at me.
“Please? For the composition?”
With an exaggerated eye roll, she reached up and pulled the elastic from her ponytail. Her hair tumbled down around her shoulders.
Holy shit.
I want her.
My cock is practically vibrating with the need to be buried inside her.
She continued out to the rock outcrop, testing each step carefully before putting her weight down.
“Right there,” I called out.
She slowly turned and faced us. The light caught her perfectly. Golden morning sun highlighted her hair, making it look like the prettiest fire. The wind picked up, fluttering her hair. The water sparkled around her. She stood there like something from a dream. More like a work of art come to life.
And that was the moment I fell all the way in love with her. Not the beginning of falling. Not halfway there. All the way. Completely. Irrevocably.
I’d had sex with a lot of women. I dated models and actresses and socialites. I’d been infatuated, attracted, and interested. But this was different.
This was seeing someone and knowing, with absolute certainty, that they’d changed something fundamental inside you. It was a soul-deep realization that you’d never be the same. I knew every person I met for the rest of my life would be measured against her and the feelings she stirred within me.
“Bellissima,” Reese breathed. He snatched his camera and started snapping photos.
Both photographers worked from different angles, capturing Bernadette standing in the water like a goddess emerging from the sea.
And she was beautiful. Not model-beautiful in the conventional sense, but beautiful in a way that was so much better. Real. Unique.
She wasn’t wearing fake eyelashes and a ton of makeup. She wasn’t tall and model thin. I didn’t know if that’s what made her perfect or if it was my own feelings skewing my opinion.
Then she noticed everyone staring. Noticed the cameras pointed at her. Her confidence crumbled. She looked like she wanted to sink into the water.
I didn’t get it, but I knew I needed to get to her. I dropped her things on the ground, kicked off my shoes, and stepped into the water to meet her. I took her hand—couldn’t help it, didn’t care who saw—and walked her back to shore.
“You could be a model,” I said, only half-joking. “If you’re interested, I know people.”
She laughed, squeezing my hand before letting go. “Absolutely not. That was mortifying enough.”
“But you were perfect.”
“I was standing on a rock getting my picture taken. That’s not exactly performance art.”
“Still perfect.”
The photographers were already reviewing the shots, making excited noises. “Sebastian, this is brilliant. The composition is perfect.”
Bernadette looked pleased despite herself. “So you got what you needed?”
“More than.” I wanted to kiss her. Right there, in front of everyone. Wanted to tell her what I’d just realized. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now I need to finish this environmental report before we lose the whole day.”
Later that afternoon, with the report submitted and the crew handling final prep for tomorrow’s Venus shoot, Bernadette mentioned wanting to find souvenirs for her parents.
“There’s a little market in town,” she said. “I thought I’d grab a few things. Since we have the afternoon off.”
I had things to do. Equipment checks to oversee. Call times to confirm. Elizabeth wanted to review the runway show setup.
“I’ll come with you,” I said instead.
She looked surprised. “You don’t have to. I know you’re busy.”
“I can spare a couple hours.”
The truth was, I would have canceled anything to spend time with her. Would have blown off my brothers, the shoot, and my schedule for the rest of the year. That should have been alarming but somehow it wasn’t.
We took one of the production vans into town, which was pretty small. I assumed the only people that lived on the island probably worked at one of the resorts. Bernadette wandered through a store selling local crafts, carefully examining handmade jewelry and woven baskets.
She picked up a small carved wooden box. “My mother would like this.”
“Get it.”
“It’s kind of expensive for a basic box.” She laughed. “It’s a basic box from my tropical island getaway.”
She bought it along with a locally made scarf and some coffee beans. Watching her shop was oddly endearing—the way she carefully considered each item, checked prices, made sure everything was authentic and well made.
I knew she wasn’t broke. She wasn’t as wealthy as I was, but she wasn’t scraping the bottom of the barrel. But it made sense. My Little Bee was careful in all things, including shopping.
As we left the shop, we passed a small roadside stand where tourists were getting temporary henna-style tattoos. The designs were beautiful, intricate patterns that looked like lace on skin.
“Come on,” I said, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward the stand. “Live dangerously.”
“No,” she said immediately. “Absolutely not.”
“It’s temporary. It’ll fade in a week. Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“I left it back at the bungalow with my common sense.” But she was smiling. “If you like them so much, you get one.”
I didn’t have tattoos. Never had, never wanted them. My body was my tool, my moneymaker, and putting permanent ink on it felt wrong. Like slapping graffiti over a work of art, as I’d told more than one woman who suggested it.
But henna was temporary. And Bernadette was looking at me with those challenging eyes, like she didn’t think I’d do it.
“Sure,” I said, sitting down at the stand. “Why not?”
The artist asked what I wanted. I looked at Bernadette and made a decision.
“A seashell,” I said. “Small. On my wrist. A seashell for my Venus.”
The woman looked at Bernadette. “And a beautiful Venus she is.”
Bernadette’s cheeks flushed red.
The artist got right to work. The shell was tiny, delicate, placed on the inside of my wrist where I’d see it every day for the next week. A reminder of this moment. Of her.
“There,” the artist said, finishing. “Very beautiful. For a very beautiful couple.”
“Oh, we’re not—” Bernadette started.
“Thank you,” I interrupted before standing. “It’s perfect.”
Bernadette looked mortified, but I secretly loved it. Loved that someone looked at us and saw a couple. I hoped it was the first of many couple activities.
I was going to need to talk to her about that, but for now I was happy to let her think it was professional. And we were nothing more than friends.
“For you?” the woman asked Bernadette.
Bernadette shook her head. “You’re very talented, but no thank you.”
The woman shrugged. I paid her, making sure I tipped her very well, and we walked away.
“That was sweet,” Bernadette said quietly. “The shell. For the Venus shoot.”
“It felt right.”
“I guess tattoos are probably not allowed in the modeling world, huh?”
“Plenty of models have them, but it can cost you jobs. Nowadays, they can photoshop the tattoos out, but that’s just extra editing and extra money. So, usually, models avoid the tats.”
“You could get one on your ass though, right? Unless there are pictures of you out there I’m unaware of.”
I laughed. “There are no butt shots. My derriere is not for public consumption.”
“That’s not what I heard.”
I’m not even offended. She’s teasing. My Little Bee does not joke around very often. My reputation is well-deserved. I have slept around a lot. I’m a notorious playboy.
But that was the old me. That was before Bernadette. That was how my life would be divided now. Before her and after her.
And that was something we would talk about later. For now, I was happy to live in the moment.