Chapter 29
SEBASTIAN
“Good, right?” I said to Clarissa, who was beginning to feel like a scarf or one of those stole things.
I casually moved my arm to get her boob off my bicep. I wasn’t an idiot. I knew when a woman was flirting with me. Although in Clarissa’s case, it wasn’t really flirting. It was an embossed invitation.
“I love the scenery,” Portia said.
They could look at the scenery. I was looking at the woman on my screen.
I hadn’t been able to stop looking at her.
I had spent the last hour showing the pictures to anyone that would look at them.
It cracked me up because no one realized it was Bernadette in the photos.
They saw the hair and the shadows and in several of them she was looking down so her face wasn’t visible.
It was romantic and alluring. And perfect.
It was better than the vision I had in my head.
She was perfect. And I wanted her in the campaign.
But I needed to make sure I wasn’t just being biased. That this wasn’t just me wanting an excuse to keep her close, to immortalize this moment, to have proof that what I felt when I looked at her was real.
“So give me your professional opinion,” I said to the ladies.
“Of course,” Clarissa said, brightening. She was always eager to be asked for her expertise.
“I’m thinking about adding her as a model to today’s shoot. Last-minute decision. What do you think?”
I could feel the chill coming off both of them. Someone was playing in their sandbox.
Clarissa’s eyes narrowed immediately. “Who is she?”
“Just someone we’re considering. What do you think? Could she work for the campaign?”
Portia leaned in, studied the photos. “I mean, if you want a shitty campaign, go for it.”
“Her vibe is all wrong,” Clarissa added. “Hard pass from me.”
I hid my smile. They hated her, which meant, in model-speak, they thought she was gorgeous and a legitimate threat.
She was their competition. It was how it worked in the industry.
You didn’t want anyone getting more face time.
Modeling was a tough gig. People saw beautiful people posing, but it was so much more than that.
One day you were the “it” person and the next some sixteen-year-old hot shot takes your cover.
Once that happened, the jobs dried up and you were on the shelf by twenty-five.
I knew it was harder for women. It sucked, but it was the industry.
It was probably why models had such bad reputations for being catty. They had to claw their way onto those runways and covers. It was not just given.
And now they didn’t realize their new competition was Buzzkill Bernadette.
I almost laughed but didn’t.
“So you don’t think I should use her?” I pressed.
“I mean, do what you want,” Clarissa said, her tone making it clear she thought I absolutely shouldn’t. “But who is she? We haven’t worked with her yet. Is this AI?”
I laughed that time. “Not AI. She’s here, and no, you haven’t worked with her.”
“Oh, she’s one of those,” Portia said with irritation. “I thought you didn’t work with the uppity bitches that refused to do joint work. She’s obviously difficult to work with if you had to sneak off to get test shots.”
Clarissa studied the pictures. “You can tell from her posture she’s not happy. She’s too stiff.”
Right. Because they could definitely tell someone’s personality from a single photo. They were jealous, plain and simple. Which meant Bernadette looked as good as I thought she did. That was all the confirmation I needed.
“Thanks for the input,” I said. “Really helpful.”
I left them whispering to each other and went to find Elizabeth. I needed another opinion from someone whose judgment I actually trusted. And the dresses and swimsuits were Elizabeth’s designs, so she would definitely have an opinion.
I found her in a corner of the tent with Mary Jo.
My sister-in-law was absolutely destroying what looked like a pancake folded over scrambled eggs and bacon.
Like a breakfast taco. She was eating it like a woman that hadn’t seen food in three months when I happened to know we ate less than eight hours ago.
Maybe she was carrying twins. Wouldn’t that be some shit?
“Morning,” I said, sliding into the seat across from her.
“Mmph,” Elizabeth said through a mouthful of pancake-taco.
Mary Jo laughed. “She’s been like this for ten minutes. I’ve never seen someone so committed to breakfast.”
I waited until she’d taken another bite before pulling out my phone. “Okay, snack buddy. I need your professional opinion. As the designer whose clothes are being photographed.”
I showed her the pictures of Bernadette.
She studied them, chewing thoughtfully. “Wow. Yeah, she’s gorgeous. Who is she? Is she one of the backup models?” She looked closer. “Wait. Is that Bernadette? Where was she hiding all that thunder?”
“Right?” I leaned forward eagerly. “I’m worried I’m biased, but she’s totally great, right? Like, objectively? As a designer, would you want her in your campaign?”
Elizabeth set down her breakfast taco—which clearly required a lot of effort—and took my phone to really look at the photos.
I would have to wipe the bacon grease from the screen later.
“Sebastian. This is stunning. The composition, yes, but also her. She’s got this quality…
she doesn’t look like a model. She looks real.
Like someone you’d actually want to be friends with.
Like a real woman who went to the store and bought the clothes.
But also otherworldly. It’s perfect for the Venus concept. ”
“So I should use her?”
“Absolutely. You found your Venus.” She grinned. “Does she know you want to use these?”
“Not yet. I was going to ask her this morning.”
Mary Jo leaned over to look at the photos. “Oh, that’s beautiful. She looks like a Pre-Raphaelite painting come to life. Do it. Use her.”
“Great. Now I just have to convince her to actually do it.” I looked at Elizabeth. “I’m going to need backup. You’re the designer.”
She reached for her breakfast taco and looked like I might try to take it away from her.
“After you finish,” I added, seeing the feral look that crossed her face. “Take your time. Please. Chew. I don’t want you to choke. If you choke, my brother will kill me.”
She nodded while she chewed. “So good. You should try this.”
I made my own breakfast taco while I waited—because now I was curious if it was actually good or just pregnancy cravings talking. It was amazing.
I glanced around the tent, disappointed to see my Little Bee had buzzed away while I wasn’t paying attention.
“Ready,” Elizabeth declared.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
She crinkled her nose. “Maybe I’ll just take a couple granola bars for the road.”
“Good plan.”
We set off to find Bernadette. I had a feeling she was already working on her safety measures. I was a little disappointed she hadn’t come to say hi, but I understood. She was convinced we were keeping this thing between us on the down low.
I walked slowly even though I wanted to jog.
I couldn’t afford to have Elizabeth tripping and potentially falling.
Bernadette was down at the beach location, setting up safety markers with a couple of crew members. She looked professional and put together in her linen pants and sleeveless blouse. Her hair was up and she was wearing dark sunglasses.
Damn. Just seeing her made my cock jerk. I couldn’t believe more people didn’t see how gorgeous she was.
“Bernadette,” I called out. “Got a minute?”
She turned, and for a second, I thought she was going to ignore me. She had that look. The way she set her jaw. I couldn’t see her eyes, but I just knew they’d be full of irritation.
“What do you need?” she asked, confirming my suspicion.
I walked over, Elizabeth trailing behind me. “I want to talk to you about today’s shoot.”
“If this is about safety protocols, I’ve already—”
“It’s not about safety. It’s about you.”
If I was going to get her to listen to me, I needed to get her away from the crew. She wouldn’t want them to see her as anything other than the boss bitch she was.
I gently took her elbow and led her to a shady spot with Elizabeth following behind.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Did something happen? Did someone get hurt?”
“No. Nothing like that.” I pulled out my phone and showed her the photos from yesterday. “Look at the test shots.”
She stared at the photos, her expression unreadable. “Okay. What about them?”
“They’re perfect. Better than perfect. You’re perfect.”
“Thank you.” She had pushed up her sunglasses and now I could see the suspicion in her eyes. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Before you say no, just hear me out. This is my vision. My artistic choice. And you’re exactly what I need for this shot. Please.”
“What?”
“We want you to be our Venus,” Elizabeth said.
Bernadette laughed but when she saw we weren’t laughing, she stopped. “No. Nope. Uh-uh. I’m not a model. I’m the insurance rep. This is completely inappropriate.”
“It’s a few photos. You’ll be fully clothed. We’ll put you in one of Elizabeth’s dresses. Something gorgeous but not revealing. You won’t even have to do much. Just stand there and look like you did yesterday.”
“Which was awkward and uncomfortable,” she said, but I could see her wavering.
Elizabeth stepped forward. “Bernadette, I design these clothes for real women. You’re exactly the kind of person I want representing my brand. Please consider it.”
“I don’t know how to model.”
“And that’s why you’re exactly right,” I said. “It’s natural. Women will identify with you. It’s not posed and fake.”
“That.” Elizabeth nodded. “When I saw those photos, I knew immediately you were the vision he had. Because I can see it now.”
“It would mean a lot to me,” I said quietly. “This shoot is important. You know that. And you’re the only one who can make it what I’m envisioning.”
She looked between me and Elizabeth, clearly torn. “If I say yes—and that’s a big if—I’m not doing anything that would be considered provocative. No bikinis, no wet T-shirts, nothing that would compromise my professional credibility.”
“Deal. Elizabeth’s dress is beautiful and tasteful. You’ll look amazing but completely appropriate.”
“And this is purely artistic? Not personal? Like you think you owe me something?”
The question hurt more than it should have. She thought I was trying to buy her silence about the sex? I would deal with that later.
“This is about creating something beautiful. I want to capture what I’m trying to say with this campaign.
Natural beauty is all around us but people don’t see it.
What’s that saying?” I snapped my fingers trying to find the right words.
“People can’t see the forest through the trees.
We go about our daily lives feeling like we’re the main characters in our story and we miss the beauty that surrounds us. ”
It was personal. Incredibly personal. But I couldn’t say that.
She took a deep breath. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
“Thank you,” Elizabeth said, squeezing her arm. “You won’t regret it.”
“I hope not,” Bernadette muttered.
I had my Venus.
And I was going to make damn sure these photos were unforgettable.