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I remained mostly quiet as we traveled to the photographer’s studio. Rebecca was driving, and I was seated in the back, answering a few emails I hadn’t had time to respond to at the office. Rebecca and Alex talked about the gala, and occasionally, I lifted my head and smiled at something he said. I was glad that he felt he had gotten a lot out of it.
She glanced at him. “Did you see the photograph?” She asked, and I perked up to see if he had.
“What photograph?”
“The one in the paper.” She lifted her eyes to the rearview mirror. “Mya, show him.”
I nodded, and Alex shifted to look at me over his shoulder. I pulled it up and then handed him my phone. He stared at it, a hint of a smile on his lips. He shifted around to face forward, did something on my phone, and then handed it back.
“You look even more beautiful than I remember.” He said. I felt my lips part in surprise at his words. He winked and continued. “I texted the link to that article to myself.”
“Okay,” I said dumbly, still shocked at what he had said and the look that had been in his eye. Was I so tired that I was seeing things?
We arrived at the photography studio to find three other people there, and things got crazy. They got even crazier when Javier, the photographer, came over to me and turned my face from side to side, then looked me over like I was a piece of merchandise.
“Marsha! She needs her hair fixed, Blow it out, bring out the waves, a bit more makeup, and different clothes. We need her in leather or denim and put her in a bustier, that will be sexier.” He stared at my feet, taking in my red spiked heels. “Keep the shoes. Love the shoes.”
He left as quickly as he arrived, and Marsha directed me to a lighted mirror on the side of the room. As I sat down in the chair, my eyes locked with Alex’s as he paused behind me.
“What are you doing?”
“They want me in the pictures with you,” I replied as I lifted my chin as if I expected him to argue with it.
A muscle ticked in the side of his jaw twice, but then he smiled slowly. “Good.”
Before I could say anything, he was gone. Good? Why was it good? I figured that he wouldn’t want me anywhere near him for his photos. This was about him, not me. Yes, I might be helping tone down his image, but that’s it.
Marsha worked on me, and Javier began to shoot images of Alex alone. I watched avidly through the mirror. Then I was sent into a large wardrobe room and given clothes to change into.
I stared at myself in the mirror, blown away by the transformation from professional sweetheart to sexy badass in blue jeans and heels.
The moment I stepped out toward the photographer, Alex lifted his head, and his eyes landed on mine. I felt his gaze as it traveled over my face and down my body like a caress. Butterflies raced through my stomach as I waited for his reaction. Finally, the corner of his mouth began to lift as he held out his hand. “Come to me, Angel.”
