CHAPTERNINE
Faye
“Oh, you didn’t like her?” I say, looking up at Felix.
It’s a warm day, and he’s wearing chino shorts and a casual dark T-shirt. The sleeves of the T grip his arms tightly, drawing my eye again and again, even if I should know better. He’s got a light silver shadow across his jaw, and his eyes have never been more intense.
Felix has just told me he canceled Jeneva.
“I thought she was very pretty.”
Felix shrugs. “Maybe she was. I don’t know.”
Is he crazy?
“She won Miss Kansas three years ago. She’s got a whole portfolio of photos on her Instagram, ranging from racy to classy. I thought she fit the role well.”
Each word causes my throat to get tighter, my hands to tremble a little more under the desk. He doesn’t know how difficult it was for me to put my feelings aside and select the best person for the job.
“Maybe I want somebody….”
He pauses at the edge of my desk. He’s got his burning intensity thing going on, his muscles taut, his mouth tight as he bites down. Jaw clenched. He looks ready to yell, to fight.
To fuck.
“Yeah?” I say.
“Not like her,” he replies. “For this to work, the woman has to be beautiful, yes, but also real. The sort of woman the viewer can imagine spending the rest of their life with.”
“Okay…” For a deluded moment, I let myself believe he’s talking about me, us. He’s secretly saying he wants to spend the rest of his life with me.
“Shall I look again?”
Felix is staring at me even harder, almost like he’s pissed. I let myself dream it’s lust making him so hot instead, lust and not the late-summer heat causing sweat to slide down his forehead, over his tight arms.
“The studio’s ready,” he says, a musing tone in his voice.
“You want me to find somebody today?”
He sighs darkly. “It’s a big ask, isn’t it? Maybe….”
It takes me a moment to judge his expression when he trails off. It’s not something I’m used to seeing on his face.
He’s uncertain.
“Maybe?” I prompt.
He looks down, then back up, right at me.
I get that feeling again like he’s looking into me, through me with his penetrative gaze. I wonder if he noticed my dress and how I adjusted it before I came to work.
Okay, yes, I’m wearing literally the only push-up bra I own. And I know the dress shows more of my cleavage than I’m generally comfortable with, but I couldn’t help myself this morning.
It’s the first time I’ve ever done anything like this.
I was thinking of Jeneva, of her long blonde hair and her Miss-Kansas build. In a moment of probable madness, I quickly put the outfit on, looking at myself in the mirror and daring to briefly dream this would have some kind of effect on Felix.
“You fit the description,” he says.