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last. All the same, Adalynn cursed Wes for not screening the
interviews before he asked her to agree. For all she knew,
Amanda worked for some online rag.
Not that it was entirely Wes’s fault. Ever since Pierre’s
death, Adalynn had scaled down operations. She only did a
few shoots a year, and the rest of the time she occupied herself
with other, more artistic work. Wildlife. Nature. Food.
Buildings. The things she’d once loved photographing. When
Pierre died, she’d had to restructure. She wasn’t going to keep
up the grueling schedule he put himself through. She might
have had the talent, but she didn’t have the heart for it. She’d
had to let a bunch of Pierre’s staff go. Wes had become more
than a personal assistant—he now took care of most of the PR,
her bookings and scheduling, and more.
When Amanda finally asked the question, Adalynn was
prepared for the civility to be at an end. She was still a little
surprised at the way her interviewer changed right in front of
her eyes, the level of aggression that tainted the air like a
pungent odor.
“Off the record, did the age gap ever bother you?”
“Why would it have bothered me?”
“You were, uh, you know, thirty-six years apart. You were
an up-and-coming no one and his photography was world
renowned.”
Adalynn stared down the younger woman. She reminded
her of a viper. No, a viper would be too obvious. This woman
was a wild animal who had been found as a baby, lovingly
tended to by humans so it could survive, and then one day it
turned, mauling its keeper to death. Adalynn knew better than
to show an ounce of emotion. She was well trained at keeping
