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My mouth falls open as I realize what he’s saying.
For this to work, the woman has to be beautiful…but also real.
“You said the person has to be somebody the viewer can imagine being with forever.”
He holds me in place with his gaze. His lips twitch as though he’s going to smirk, and then he stares impassively again.
“You fit the description,” he repeats. “It’s not part of your job. And you don’t have to do it.”
“They’re just test photos, right?” I murmur, my heart pounding so hard it’s starting to hurt.
I’m not sure I’ll even be able to go through with this.
We’ve only been working together for a week, and this is the only sign he’s given that he might be attracted to me or not. He might be able to entertain the idea of other people being attracted to me.
He’s viewing this through the lens of his work, nothing else.
But still. It means I’m not invisible to him.
He sees me as a woman, as sexual, in some way.
“Yeah, tests,” he says. “To get an idea for the themes and the general composition. But, like I said, you didn’t sign up for this. You’re free to say no.”
I swallow, trying to imagine myself in the studio, in my underwear, with Felix staring at me from behind the camera.
Would there be anything sexual there? Would he want me the same way I want him?
Okay, not the same way, since that would mean he’d get down on one knee and propose to me right there.
“Are you sure I’d be okay?”
He turns away, his fists clenched.
It’s like rage suddenly boils through him. But then he turns back to me, making a visible effort to calm himself down.
Lola would often talk about how preoccupied he’d become with his work. Perhaps this is an example, his anger rising from the fact he has to change his model last-minute.
Not has to, since he decided it, but maybe he feels that way.
Like his creativity is leading him in a direction he doesn’t want to go.
To me.
“Yes,” he says gruffly after a pause. “I think you’d work great. But it’s like I said, it’s up to you.”
“I’ll do it,” I cut in, blurting the words before I have a chance to overthink them.
He flinches. Something drops in my belly, dark and pained.
An idea hits me.
Maybe Lola suggested this, and he offered because she asked. He wanted me to say no.
“I don’t have to,” I say quickly. “I can get a model here within two hours. Somebody better suited to it.”
“You’re suited perfectly,” he growls, causing a shiver to move over my skin and tingle warmly.
He’s saying he thinks I’m beautiful in a real way.
