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Mari laughs quietly and then bobs her head in agreement, which makes all of us laugh. Only a crazy person would say no to Sage Grimes.
"I'm so excited for you," Vanna says, beaming at me. "I can't wait to see the pure gold he's able to get with you. I just know it's going to be fantastic!"
I gulp and then immediately blush, praying neither of them noticed. The more we talk about Sage, the more nervous I become…and I was already nervous enough about being in front of the camera again. But I can do this. If letting him run this photoshoot brings attention to the men and women I represent, I'll be the best damn model he's ever worked with.
Chapter Two
Sage
"What's taking so long?" I growl to myself, pacing back and forth across the rooftop while I wait for Trinity Larsen to make her appearance. She's been in hair and makeup for the last hour, which is ridiculous if you ask me. She doesn't need any of that shit to be beautiful. It just detracts from what she has naturally.
I wanted to rush in there and take charge as soon as Gabby let me know she was here, but I talked myself out of it. I've been looking forward to this day since I found out Trinity was one of the nominees being honored by Le CRV. My niece, Georgia, is one of her models. She's been talking about Trinity nonstop for the last six months. It piqued my curiosity, so I looked her up.
I'm not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn't the goddess staring back at me from my screen. As soon as I saw her, I knew I'd do whatever I had to do to get her in front of my camera. I've photographed a lot of beautiful women in my life, but none of them ever got to me like a single image of Trinity did. The photograph was amateurish at best, but when you have a subject like Trinity, it doesn't matter who's behind the camera. She's stunning, sexy without even trying.
There's an artless innocence about her that's rare in this world. Everything from hair to breasts to waists are surgically enhanced these days, but there's nothing fake about her. Those plump lips and gray eyes are real, so are her high cheekbones and sooty lashes. She's tall and curvy with thick thighs and an ass I can't stop thinking about. She'd probably slap me if she knew how many times I've fantasized about burying my face between those cheeks and eating her until she's screaming for mercy.
I'm not sure I'd have any to offer her.
My dick has been hard for the last month straight. That's not normal for me.
I haven't been a saint in my life, but I'm not someone who sleeps around either. A lot of photographers jump into bed with their models. I don't. Women aren't objects. I refuse to play the bullshit game so many photographers play with them. They treat it like a competition amongst themselves, keeping score of who they've fucked and comparing notes. That's not how I operate. I've worked too hard to get where I am to risk it for a quick lay.
Since MeToo, a lot of photographers have been sweating bullets, worried they'd be the next one called out for their gross, predatory behavior. I have no sympathy for them. Like I've said a thousand times, they wouldn't be worried if they weren't guilty. I'm not worried.
I may be an asshole, but I don't prey on models or sleep around. At forty-four, I'm too goddamn old for games, and a long string of one-night stands never interested me. It's been a decade since my dick was in anything but my own hand.
I've been married to my job for most of my life. But I've never wanted anything the way I want Trinity Larsen. It's not just that she's stunning either. She's smart as hell. Not many people find success at such an early age, nor do they use it to advocate for inclusivity the way she does. The men and women who sign with her have a little mama bear in their corner, one willing to go to war to ensure they're treated with respect and dignity.
That's a rarity. Getting ahead is the name of the game, and other people are often collateral damage. Especially plus-size models. How many have signed on to model, only to become a cautionary tale sold to the public? For decades, curvy women have been posed with junk food or exercise equipment in their hands while the fashion industry sold the narrative that big is antithetical to beautiful.
It's a crock of shit. Some of the most gorgeous people I've photographed have been big, beautiful women like Trinity. I desperately want to photograph her. Even if she tells me to fuck off, I want to be the one capturing every flicker of emotion across her face, every beautiful smile. She's a goddamn dream shoot for me, one of those rare beauties who look incredible from every angle, in every light. But no one has truly captured her yet. She looks like a goddess in every photograph, but they aren't her.
It took me all of five seconds to recognize it. The face the world sees is a mask. The most interesting parts of her are tucked away behind those pretty eyes and flirty smiles. I'm dying to know who she is when the world isn't watching. Is she the strong businesswoman? The confident model? The reserved young woman? The artless seductress? Everything I've learned about her suggests she's a little bit of all of the above.
Like me, she doesn't seem to date. Her business and her family are her life. She cares so much for both…but who is taking care of her? Who holds her when she's sad or carries her to bed when she falls asleep on the couch? I want it to be me.
Getting Vanna and Jimmy Catalano to agree to let me do this shoot took a little work, but Vanna called last night to let me know that Trinity agreed. I don't think I slept at all. I was too goddamn impatient. I'm also worried as fuck.
I'm not exactly someone that's well-liked. Respected, yes. Damn good at my job, yes. But liked? Not particularly. People call me an asshole because I know what I want and don't put up with bullshit. I've been making my own rules for most of my life. I've pissed off more than a person or two along the way. They say I'm demanding, blunt, and that I expect perfection. They're not wrong. But those traits are what got me where I am. People know my name. They've seen my photographs in every major magazine or hanging in galleries. I've traveled the world and seen everything there is to see.
I never cared what anyone thought before now. I care about this one. There's something about her I can't shake.
My life is lonely. It never bothered me until I saw her picture and realized she's what has always been missing. I want to show this woman the world and watch her conquer it. I want to be the man who stands at her side while she moves mountains, the one who knows every thought in her head. I want to be the man who fucks her raw and then puts her in a bubble bath.
Am I crazy? Quite possibly. Will it stop me? No.
I've tried to quit thinking about her. I told myself to get a grip and let it go a thousand times since I looked her up a month ago. Five minutes later, she'd be on my mind again. It pissed me off at a first because I didn't understand it. I still don't. But I'm done fighting it.
I came here to make Trinity mine. I'm not leaving without giving it my best effort.
The roof access door swings open behind me. I spin on my heel, expecting to see Gabby. I told her to let me know when Trinity was ready. Instead, my gaze lands on Trinity. As soon as I see her, my mind goes blank.
She's even more beautiful in person. Her hair is tousled, her makeup natural. Her outfit is a one-piece black swimsuit, a thin sarong, and a floppy hat, which she's holding in her hands. Vanna said one of the other nominees designed the swimwear. The thin white robe Trinity's wearing over it doesn't offer much protection. Every curve and dip of her body is on display. I have to keep from reaching for my dick to readjust as he lengthens in my pants.
Her gray eyes run over me, and her teeth sink into her bottom lip. I hope like hell she likes what she sees. Like most men my age, my body isn't what it used to be. I work-out and run every day, but I'm not ripped. I'm thick everywhere, sturdy, with a barrel chest and skin that's seen more than its fair share of time under the sun. My hair was silver long before it was popular. It's also a little shaggy. Compared to her, I'm an old bastard.
"Sage Grimes?" she says, her voice soft and sweet, lilting.
