“I can’t think of anyone better than you.”
“Still the smooth-talker, I see.”
“I have nothing to gain here by talking smooth. I know you’d never come back to me even if I groveled.”
Jennika’s lips curled upward and her eyes narrowed. “You? Grovel? Not likely.”
“A guy can dream. My heart hasn’t been the same since you left me.”
She laughed in earnest. “I didn’t leave you, Storm. I left the man you were pretending to be. You fit into my thong better than you did my life.”
“I’m flattered.”
“You shouldn’t be.”
I opened my mouth to retort but was interrupted when another model swept toward Jennika from behind me. I caught a whiff of lemons before the goddess stepped into my line of sight. She put a hand lightly on Jennika’s shoulder and said something too quietly for me to hear. She had long raven hair and rich warm skin.
Jennika giggled softly, answered the other model’s question, took her by the shoulders, and turned her to face me. “Laila, I’d like you to meet someone very dear to me. This is Storm Thornton, the new CEO of Cupid’s Arrows and, less significantly, my ex.”
What a blow to my ego.
I held out my hand. “Nice to meet you, Laila. Hunt, isn’t it? Laila Hunt?”
Laila turned. The sun shone on her freckled cheeks and nose and made her hazel eyes appear to glow. She looked down at my hand before shaking it. “Yes, nice to meet you too, sir.”
“Storm is just fine.”
She smiled, and the sight of it nearly buckled my knees.
This woman was stunning. She reminded me of summertime, all sun-kissed and rosy. She wore a robe just like Jennika’s, and I longed to know what she wore underneath. I’d seen my fair share of photos of Laila Hunt, and I’d seen brief clips of her walking in fashion shows, but seeing her in person like this was a whole different experience. She had a presence about her that made my tongue feel thick in my mouth.
“So, you’re the new big cheese around here, huh?” Laila asked, tipping her head to the side. Her silky hair fell from her shoulder, tugging the robe slightly open, exposing bronzed collarbones.
I chuckled. “Well, I’m the big something, but I’m not sure I’d go with cheese.”
Laila made a sound in the back of her throat before sharing a look with Jennika.
Jennika sighed. “Yes, he was like this when I dated him.”
Prickling, I smoothed out my suit. “Nobody has been very nice to me today.”
Jennika draped a slender arm over Laila’s shoulders and pushed her lips out in a pout. “Oh, honey, it must be so hard being you.” She turned with Laila, and the pair of them crossed the grass toward the pond, heads bowed together, giggling intentionally loud enough for me to hear them.
That hadn’t gone nearly as well as I’d hoped. Then again, the board would be happy to hear that Jennika was singlehandedly destroying my mojo one model at a time.
CHAPTER 6
LAILA
My ass hurt. So did my thighs, upper arms, abs, and calves. Holding poses was no joke. What made it worse was being half submerged in a freezing cold pond having to pose without looking cold. My nipples continued to betray me, and one of the wardrobe people had to run back up to the trailers to find some sticky nipple covers that would fit into my tiny bralette that barely covered my tits to begin with.
Cupid’s Arrows had lingerie for all kinds of bodies and all personality types. There were one-piece sets with high lace necklines for those looking for something a bit more modest this Valentine’s Day. On the other hand, there were little numbers like the one I currently wore while I stood shivering in the pond—a two-piece set made of pale pink faux feathers and Swarovski crystals. The jewelry brand had partnered with the lingerie company to produce incredibly romantic Valentine’s Day pieces to make every person who wore their pieces feel beautiful.
I couldn’t deny that I loved my set even though my boobs wanted to spill out of it and my nipples were trying to saw their way through the feathers.
When my wardrobe person returned, I turned my back to the cameras and struggled to put the sticky side on my nipples. “My skin is so numb I can’t tell if it’s sticking.”
I had to get the wardrobe girl to pull the feathers aside, stare at a face full of tit, and stick them on one at a time.
“Thank you.” I made sure my bralette sat properly before turning back to the camera and photographer, who instructed we back up even deeper into the frigid, dark water. He kept barking at us to keep going until the water was up to my vajayjay. I called out that I was about to submerge all my feathers, and the photographer let us stop. People needed to see the product they were buying in the marketing shots, and the icing on the cake for me was if the set I wore made it through the shot, I usually got to take them home with me.
Did I have someone waiting for me in my stunning downtown suite ready for me to tease him with feathers on Valentine’s Day? No. Would I still wear said feathers and drink wine? Absolutely.
We took photos for the next forty-five minutes. Between shots, our teeth chattered and we rubbed our arms, desperate to stay warm. As soon as the photographer returned to snapping pictures we struck our poses like the badass bitches we were, never missing a cue, finding our light with ease, and working our angles.
By the time we were released from the water I couldn’t feel anything below my chin.
Jennika and I raced out of the water to retrieve our robes. We wrapped ourselves up and rushed to the tents, where a heater had been set up. All the girls crowded around it as the set down by the water underwent revisions and the photographers moved to a second location in the park.
It was going to be a long day.
A warm trailer provided a cozy place for me to dry off and change. Jennika and a few other models were in there with me, and Jennika boiled a kettle on the stove so we could sip hot lemon water. Once I had my tea, my second lingerie set on, and my fluffy robe, I slid my feet into some fuzzy slippers and went back outside to lounge under a heater and enjoy the energy on set.
Nothing quite compared to the runway, but there was a thrill on shoots, too. When I first started modeling at twelve, I’d found the atmosphere so overwhelming I almost quit on my first job. A hairstylist spotted my breakdown coming a mile away. She pulled me aside and told me to keep my chin up. She reminded me that I was here for a reason, and that I had the talent to have a long and successful career, but that couldn’t and wouldn’t happen if I didn’t put my best foot forward and try.
So I did.
Now I craved the energy on photoshoot sets and runways. I longed for the attention and for a chance to surprise people with something new. Something fresh. Something distinctly mine. I had a team of support around me at all times that made me feel powerful, and sometimes I found myself wishing they were in my apartment every morning to get me ready for the day. I could use them in my corner to face the day-to-day challenges that happened behind the scenes and off the runway.
While models and stylists ran in panicked circles around me, I pulled my phone from the deep robe pocket and began scrolling Instagram. Within a few seconds, a tempting ad came up on my feed, and I found myself flicking through pages and pages of designer shoes.