I smiled to myself, then typed back:Woodland Fairy. But make her a little edgy, you know? I’m wearing one of those leather harnesses over it. In pink, of course.
Mal: Oooooooo. Very chic. Very Gen Z. I approve
Jo: Well, just in case you don’t, I brought a backup. And obviously a dress change
Mal: Ah, of course. You must be prepared for everything.
Mal: I think I see you. Though to be fair, I think it would be hard not to.
I rocked to my feet, fluffing out the layers of tulle and waving Mal my way. From afar, I could tell he’d come prepared, with a softbox in hand and an enormous backpack I assumed held all of his gear bouncing off his shoulders. He returned my wave, hustling faster, and I held back a smile. There was something so pure about Mal, something precious that I wanted to preserve.
“Not going to lie, I think this dress is a bit conspicuous for a woodland fairy,” Mal said when he skidded to a stop in front of me. He was dressed today in joggers and a very slutty black compression shirt that outlined the curves of forearms into biceps into shoulders into a chest that looked like it would serve very nicely as a pillow. Feeling wicked, I tugged at his hem.
“Rich coming from you,” I said. “You’ve got all your goods on display.”
“My goods?” Mal repeated, confused.
I smoothed a hand down the curve of his chest until it was cupped in my palm, then watched for a reaction. Mal had refused to sleep with me, refused to touch me much at all, really, and his reservations were as annoying as they were thrilling. Because I could always see in Mal’s eyes that he was holding back. That there was a beast lurking behind that adorable sweet-boy exterior, and it was my job to coax it out. That eventually, his legendary control would snap.
Mal didn’t disappoint: his eyes darkened, nostrils flared. I squeezed, and he clasped my wrist.
“Jo,” he said in a low, warning growl.
“Mal,” I said gleefully.
He peeled my hand away, turning toward the carousel.
“Come on,” he said. “Your deadline is in three days, and we only have half an hour until closing. You’ll have time to tease me later.” He bent forward, unzipping his backpack and producing a camera. “Go. Get on.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, and then, gathering my skirts about me, clambered onto my seal steed. Mal waved to the carousel attendant to keep the carousel stationary, then took a few test shots.
“This is going to work. This isreallygoing to work,” he said excitedly, adjusting his settings. “You’ve got a good eye for composition, don’t you? Like the photo in your post this morning. You took that yourself, right?”
I shrugged. Early in my influencer career, I’d gotten handy with a tripod, a Canon point-and-shoot, and a self-timer. On a social media feed full of filtered phone shots, strong photographs stood out.
“Might be the whole regularly-spending-time-with-an-international-supermodel thing,” I said. “Who, by the way, I heard you met up with not too long ago.”
Mal’s face instantly went blank. Renata had informed me that she’d met with Mal’s team to discussDusk, but he had neglected to mention it himself.
“Yeah, I did,” Mal said. He busied himself by repositioning his softbox, then unfolding a diffuser. “She’s... a force to be reckoned with.”
“Renata’s wonderful,” I said, smiling. “And she didn’t tell me to tell you this, but I promise you, Mal, if you sell to her, you’ll be in good hands.”
Even with his head ducked, I could see that Mal’s eyebrows were knitted together.
“You’re really close to them,” he said. “To both of them.”
My smile tightened. It was clear who the other counterpart ofthemwas.
“Yes,” I said simply. “Very.”
Mal nodded, pensive. If I was honest with myself, I was surprised it had taken so long for Ezra to come up again. We’d skirted around him like a sink of dirty dishes—difficult, considering how much Ezra hated being ignored. Mal was quick on the uptake: I had a room in the Adelmans’ home, an obviously special relationship with Renata, a discernibly complicated one with her son. I wondered what Mal assumed about us—that I was a scorned ex whom Ezra’s mother could never let go, or perhaps a dedicated groupie who, after years of perseverance, was eventually accepted into the Adelman fold. If he’d looked us up, he might have seen pictures of me and the Adelmans chumming it up going back a decade, and maybe that would confuse him more.
I doubted he would arrive at the truth, that once upon a time, I’d saved Ezra’s life, and that they had decided to love me ever since.
“I saw Ezra that day,” Mal said. “He asked about you. Wanted to know if you were okay.”
The corner of my mouth twitched. “And what did you tell him?”
