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That’s what I wanted.
But a man like Ares would have me walking on eggshells, ensuring I knew how lucky I was to have him.
Not that I wanted to have him. He was, in fact, the very antithesis of what I wanted. So, instead of tracking him down, I stayed in my room, ordered room service, and bitched to Ava.
“Brayleigh wouldn’t come to the phone,” I grumbled. “Lucky turned the phone so I could see her, but she refused to talk to me.”
“She has her mother’s flare for drama,” Ava teased before getting serious. “She’ll be okay It’s going to be an adjustment. Why don’t you go get something to eat?”
“I can’t. I’m a coward.”
The sound of her laugh through the phone made me smile. “Why are you a coward?”
I groaned and flopped back on my bed. “I’m afraid I might run into him.”
“Hope,” Ava admonished. “Repeat after me. I’m allowed to take up space.”
“I know, I know…”
“No, Hope. Repeat after me. I’m allowed to take up space.”
I grudgingly repeated it back to her.
“Good,” she grunted. “Now say it with feeling. Say it like you believe it.”
“I’m allowed to take up space.”
“Good girl.”
“Kinky,” I teased.
“You betcha.”
I repeated her mantra until I believed it, but I stayed in my room.
Day two of the shoot unfolded exactly like day one. At the end of the day, I found myself back in my room, the curiosity over those damn pictures killing me.
I’m allowed to take up space.
“Too dead fucking right I am,” I muttered.
I called down to the front desk to inquire if there was a space where I could dance, and they booked the yoga room for me. Changing quickly, I grabbed my speaker and my water bottle before stepping out into the hallway.
I slipped my key card into my bag, the sound of a door opening down the hall drawing my attention.
One of my models stepped out into the hallway, a strongly muscled arm holding the door open for her.
Looked like somebody got themselves a little something-something. Good for her. She wasn’t my favorite person, entirely too full of herself, but whatever. At leastshewasn’t afraid to take up space.
The door opened further, and the owner of the arm stepped into the hallway, shirt untucked, hair disheveled, a tiny purse in his outstretched hand.
A bubble of nausea fought its way up from my stomach.
I wrapped my palm over my throat, my pulse beating furiously, a resounding ‘no’ echoing through my mind.
My jaw dropped in shock as the full force of my jealousy spun the walls around me. I stumbled back just as those cold, black eyes pinned me to the wall.
Tearing my gaze away from his, I swallowed the bile that burned the back of my throat.
