32. Chapter 32
Lili
“Lili, tilt your chin up just a fraction. Grace, lean into her shoulder,” Zara murmurs from behind the lens as the shutter fires again.
It’s been fun to watch Grace relax into the camera and even come alive the way I knew she would. Her curls brush my collarbone, and I smile down at her as I adjust my chin. “Trinity did a good job on your hair, lover,” I say.
We’ve spent the last forty-five minutes moving through a variety of poses and set pieces, and I’m comfortable.
“Grace, eyes to the camera. Lili, you keep looking at her.”
It’s an easy task, the second outfit Zara put her in is a purple lace bodysuit that accentuates her perfect curves.
“I wish everyone were as natural as the two of you,” Zara says with a smile.
Zara moves around us, adjusting angles, offering direction, and firing the camera. It’s clear she finds joy in the task, and I’m grateful she was here for us to ask.
She asks us to shift positions again, and Grace’s hand finds my hip, steadying herself as we rearrange. There’s something unique in this experience of being seen through another woman’s eyes. It’s collaborative and effortless. Not like I’m an object being displayed for someone else’s consumption.
For years, I performed. Posing for red carpet galas and press events, always aware of the cameras capturing images that would be dissected and critiqued.
And they were all controlled by Phineas.
I knew exactly which angles he preferred and just how much smile was allowed before I was accused of flirting with a reporter.
That level of control was why I sought out a boudoir photographer in the first place. I wanted images that I controlled. That made me feel powerful. And yes, I hoped they would entice my husband into loving me more. In the end, that backfired.
This is different.
“Lili, can you put your hand on Grace’s waist? Good. Now, both of you, close your eyes for a moment.”
I close my eyes as Grace’s breath flutters against my neck. My pulse slows.
“Now open them and look at each other.”
When I open my eyes, Grace is already watching me. Her expression is tender, unguarded. I don’t have to perform for her. I don’t have to be anything other than what I am at this moment. Something tells me the image Zara just captured is going to be one of my favorites.
“Let’s try something else,” Zara says, lowering the camera. “Lili, I want you on your back on the bench. Grace, you’ll be leaning over her like you’re about to kiss her.”
I move to lie down, the velvet cool against my exposed skin. Grace positions herself above me, her hands bracing on either side of my shoulders.
“Perfect. Now arch your back slightly, Lili. Like you’re reaching up toward her.”
I arch.
And the world tilts.
The studio lights are a blur as the velvet beneath me becomes a set of expensive sheets, and Grace’s face above me fades into a memory I wish I could bury.
Phineas is standing over me holding the photographs I’d just gifted him for Valentine’s Day, his face red with rage as he jabs a finger at the photographer’s watermark. It belonged to a man with kind eyes who’d made me feel beautiful for a couple of hours without ever touching me once.
“You let him see you like this?”
His voice was deathly quiet. That was always so much worse than the yelling.
“It was professional, Finn. Nothing happened.”
“Nothing happened.” He repeated the words like they were poison. Then he pulled me off the bed by my hair.
The scars on my thighs came later. After he’d locked the bedroom door. After he’d explained in detail what happened to wives who let other men see what belonged to him.
“Lili?”
Grace’s voice cuts through the fog, and I shake off the memory of Phineas sinking his teeth into my thighs until I bled.
I blink and realize my face is wet. Tears stream down my cheeks, ruining the makeup Zara applied earlier. My chest heaves with sobs I can’t control.
“Hey. Hey, I’m right here.” Grace’s hand cups my face, grounding me. “You’re here with me. You’re safe.”
I try to speak, but only a gasp escapes. My body trembles against the bench.
Zara appears in my peripheral vision, camera lowered. “That’s enough for now. Let’s take a break. We don’t have to talk about what happened in your head just now, but you can if you want to.”
Her voice is calm and professional. No judgement. No pity. Just concern for my well-being. It’s easy to see how she would have been such a successful escort.
Grace helps me sit up, and I lean into her shoulder, pressing my face against her neck. Her arms wrap around me, solid and sure.
“I’m sorry. This is the second time I’ve broken down on you, lover,” I manage to whisper.
“Don’t.” Grace’s voice is firm. “Don’t apologize for this.”
Zara brings water and sets it nearby without crowding us. Trinity catches my eye from across the room and gives me a small nod. Understanding. She knows something about painful memories.
Samuel shifts by the door but stays where he is.
“Take all the time you need,” Zara says. “There’s no rush.”
I breathe. In and out. Grace’s hand moves in slow circles on my back. The scars on my thighs seem to radiate heat, an echo from the past. But Grace is here. Zara is here. Victor is somewhere in this city trying to figure out how to keep us all safe. And I’m not locked in that bedroom anymore.
“I didn’t expect the memories to hit me so hard. Maybe I wasn’t ready,” I say quietly.
“You’re more than ready, Goddess,” Grace says against my hair. “Not hiding from it. That’s part of the process.”
She’s right, and I hate it.
But I lean into her touch anyway, letting everything but the quiet click of Zara checking her camera settings and the steady rhythm of Grace’s heartbeat against my cheek falls away.
After a few minutes of silence, Grace hands me a robe and I wrap it around my shoulders.
“How are you?” she asks, keeping her voice low as she sits back down next to me.
“Better.” It’s true. The breakdown released something in me, and I’m left feeling lighter. “I want to keep going.”
Grace studies my face for a long moment before nodding. “OK. Zara pulled some options for the next set. I think you’ll like what she has in mind.”
She holds up several pieces of lingerie, and I gravitate toward a burgundy satin piece that would stop just at the top of my thighs.
“Good choice.” Grace grins and selects a matching garment in a champagne color for herself.
We move behind the screens to change when Trinity speaks.
“Zara, can I ask a favor?”
I peek around the screen. Trinity sits in her wheelchair, hands folded in her lap, somehow looking regal.
“What’s up?” Zara asks as she places a reflector onto the studio floor.
“Would it be possible…” Trinity pauses, and her jaw tightens. “Would I be able to take a few photos?”
Zara’s expression softens. “Of course. What did you have in mind?”
Trinity gestures toward the chaise lounge in the corner, draped in pink silk fabric. “Something elegant. Simple. I’ve been a patient in this chair for far too long. I’d like to feel like myself again.”
Grace appears beside me, still fastening the clasp on her bra, and we exchange a glance.
“Absolutely,” Zara says. “Samuel, can you help her to the chaise? I’ll adjust the lighting. If you take off your dress and bra, we can drape you in the fabric and get some really tasteful shots.”
Samuel moves immediately, crossing to Trinity’s side. He crouches beside her wheelchair, voice low.
“Tell me what you need.”
“I can’t put much weight on my left side yet. If you support me under the arms, I can manage.”
He nods and positions himself, sliding his hands beneath her arms. Trinity grips his forearms and pushes herself up. Her face goes pale with the effort, sweat beading at her hairline. But she doesn’t make a sound.
They take the three steps to the chaise, and Samuel lowers her with extreme gentleness, and steps back as Trinity pulls her dress over her head and unclasps her bra.
Samuel turns away as it falls away, making her chuckle. “You’ve seen me naked before, Samuel.”
He clears his throat and continues to stare at the wall. “You naked at the club with your husband is one thing. This deserves privacy.”
“Such a gentleman.”
Zara steps in and helps Trinity arrange herself and the fabric on the lounge chair, then lifts her camera to fire a test shot.
“Perfect,” Zara murmurs, looking at the preview screen. “Don’t move. I want to get three just as you are.”
She fires three shots, moving herself slightly between each one.
I find myself frozen, watching. Trinity’s injuries are hidden beneath the fabric, but I know they’re there. The sniper’s bullet was meant for me. It hit her instead. And here she is less than two weeks later, refusing to let her injuries be the only thing people see when they look at her.
“Turn your chin slightly to the left,” Zara directs. “Good. Now think about Hunter.”
“Hunter right now, or Hunter when he’s not going insane?” Trinity asks with a twinkle in her eye.
“Whatever version was in your head just now gave me exactly what I wanted,” Zara teases.
“I’d like to try one standing,” Trinity says quietly.
Zara sets the camera aside and pulls a small white column over to the chaise. “Let’s see what we can do with this,” she says.
Samuel helps Trinity shift, so she’s standing on her right leg, with her left knee bent up on the chaise. She supports herself on the column, and Zara arranges the pink satin so it hides everything except a bit of cleavage and leg. She fluffs Trinity’s hair, then picks up the camera again.
Trinity manages three more poses before her jaw clenches in a way that says she’s in pain and reaching her limit.
“That’s enough,” she says quietly. “I need to sit down.”
Samuel is at her side before she finishes speaking. He helps her sit on the edge of the chaise so she can get dressed again, then pushes the wheelchair up to it and lifts her into it with care.
“Thank you,” she tells Zara when she’s settled. “That’s exactly what I needed.”
Zara crosses to her with the camera and bends to show her the small screen. Whatever Trinity sees makes her smile.
“You look incredible,” Grace says, fully dressed and stepping from behind the screen. “Like a goddess.”
Trinity laughs, but the sound is tired. “I am a mere mortal who pushed her limits. But that’s OK. I needed to not feel broken for just a few minutes.”
The words land hard in my chest, and I swallow back another bout of tears.
Grace appears at my other side, her hand finding the small of my back. “Ready for another round?” she asks.
I straighten my shoulders, the burgundy satin giving me a boost of confidence as I smile brightly at her.
“Ready.”
Grace
My palms are sweating as I hold the photo album behind my back. The club opens in an hour, and Victor is in his office, pretending it’s not his birthday.
Lili stands beside me, composed as always, though I catch a slight tremor in her hand when she reaches for the door.
She knocks once and pushes the door open without waiting for permission. Victor looks up from his desk, eyebrows raised.
“What’s this?”
“Happy birthday, Master,” I say, stepping forward before I lose my nerve.
His jaw tightens the same way it does every year when I present him with his gift. “I told you…”
“We know what you said,” Lili interrupts. “We ignored you. Deal with it.”
She moves to his side and rests her hand on his shoulder, leaning in to kiss his cheek. The tension in his face softens, despite the frown remaining.
I bring the album out from behind my back and set it on the desk in front of him. It’s bound in black leather, with a silver embossed border.
“Open it,” I say. My voice is steadier than I expect. I’ve never been nervous about giving him a present before.
Victor looks at the album, then at me, then at Lili. Something flickers in his dark eyes. Curiosity, and something I can’t quite place.
He opens the cover.
The first image is the two of us on the velvet bench. Lili in her black corset, me in the butterfly lace. Our bodies intertwined, faces turned toward each other.
Victor goes still.
He turns the pages, looking at each image carefully. He lingers on one of Lili arched beneath me, my hand on her hip. The two of us kissing, mouths soft, eyes closed.
His throat works as he swallows.
“Grace,” he says, voice rough. “Lili.”
“Keep going,” Lili whispers.
He turns the pages until he gets to the final one.
It’s my favorite image despite the pain it evokes.
As the final shot, Zara had Lili stand with her foot propped on a low ottoman with her hip cheated out in such a way that the scars on her thighs were visible.
I’m on my knees, my lips brushing one of the rugged scars.
I love it because of the somewhat defiant expression on Lili’s face and the subtle traces of tears left over from when she broke down.
Victor stares at the image for a long moment. When he looks up, his eyes are dark with something I can’t name.
“You did this for me?”
“We did it for us,” Lili says. “All three of us.”
He stands slowly, pushing back his chair. His hand reaches out and cups Lili’s jaw, thumb tracing her cheekbone. Then he turns to me and pulls me close, his other hand fisting in my hair.
“Tonight,” he says, voice dropping to that register that makes my knees weak. “I’m going to show both of you exactly what this gift means to me.”