“Lying?” I’m baffled. I’m still searching his eyes for evidence of a lens.
“This morning, you were more than attracted to me. You begged for my attention, even admitted you want me, so are you lying when you tell me you don't want my attention now?” His mouth moves from one ear to the other, his lips gliding along my skin. I can smell his aftershave, and I’m hot and needy once more.
Shaking my head and scrunching my eyes tight, I have a moment of shock because I have the oddest sensation to cry. How does he do this to me? Pick me apart, mock me, urge me on. I’m being pulled every which way, and my mind is screaming for me to give in and run.
“No.” I tremble.
“No?” He laughs. “You’re shaking, and you can’t even look at me. You want me, beautiful. You want me so fucking badly that I can taste the need pouring out of you,” he growls. “You twist me up, Zara, and I can’t wait to fuck you,” he admits gruffly.
“No,” I say again. Trying and failing to repel any images his words have provoked. “I don't want your attention,” I say, staring downwards, rendered useless. Where the hell has my feisty side gone? I need it back.
“Why are you torturing yourself?” he asks lightly, a laugh slipping free. He grips my face and shakes it gently to get my attention, wanting my eyes. I shake my head. I can't do this. “Look at me, Zara,” he demands.
My eyes painfully meet his, and I decide the truth is the only thing that will make him believe me.
“Yes, I want you, yes you are stupidly attractive, but I also donotwant your attention. I donotwant to find you attractive, and I sure as hell don’t want to want you,” I say with conviction. I search his gaze, pleading with him to believe me, to walk away.
His smug face slowly morphs into one of irritation.
“You’re full of shi—”
“I had all the locks changed. You need to leave me alone, Callan,” I state, and tug my chin free. I’m panting, and Callan looks ready to fling me on any available surface. “This, whatever it was, is over. I’m leaving, and I won’t be visiting any of your clubs again. Please leave me alone,” I whisper.
Grinding his jaw, he steps back and casts a pitiful look at me. We stare for the briefest of moments, and his lip curls in a sneer.
“Well, fuck off then.” His simple dismissal has me flinching. What a prick! He heads back to his desk, lifting his phone speaking into it. “I’m ready to head over to Skyn.”
Oh, I just bet he is, with all his naked women at his disposal. I spin on my heel and stalk to the door, not even caring to look back.Good riddance,I think, wanting to laugh out. I drag the door open, but just as I’m about to step out, Callan stalks through it, leaving me in his wake and gaping after him. God, the man is a monumental cock. I follow him down the corridor, but where I head to the end, he takes a right and enters a lift. I stop and look at him, but he is staring at his phone. Uninterested and apparently over whatever this was.
I let myself look at him for one last moment before the elevator closes. That’s it. We’re done with this.
Chapter Eleven
The beach has been cordoned off, and over the last two days, myself, Samson, and another model have posed on the sand, showcasing Viola Griffin’s new swimwear collection. I'm sun-kissed already, thanks to my natural latte skin, and I've had sand sprayed onto my body to give me a sexy beach vibe. My hair is loosely curled and not at all sleek. My makeup,although heavy, gives the impression I’m free of it. The tiny string bikini I’m wearing leaves, oh so very little to the imagination, and Samson has given me the once over way too many times.
“Okay, this is it. The sunset is really going to give this a raunchy romantic feel. Roll around, get into the water, but try not to get your hair wet, Zar." I hate that Gio calls me that. I smile and look at Samson as we get into position. “Remember, you are both deeply in love.” Gah. I smile and look at Samson to give him a full stare, conveying my fake emotions, when I see Callan standing at the tape, holding citizens at bay and staring openly at me. I mentally gape and try to shake it off. Why is he here? How does he know?
I know why he is here.I will look over every inch of this body, taste it, touch it. Are you ready for me, Zara?I thought we were done.
“Are you ready, Zara?” Gio calls, pulling my head back around.
“You okay?” Samson takes my hand, and I nod absently. I can’t believe he crossed an ocean for me.
“Of course, let’s do this.” Samson reclines again and drops into position so I’m half on him, half in the sand. We've already practised this, but adrenaline is coursing through my body. It hums, and I know it’s because he is watching. I can't help but notice him in my peripheral. He stands out like a sore thumb: big and commanding in his dress trousers and white shirt open at the neck. His tattoos make him look all the more intimidating. I blow out a breath, and Samsom squeezes my hip.
“You sure you’re good?”
“Yes.” No. I feel agitated. Hot under the collar, actually, just hot because I’m not wearing adamn thing. Samson spins us, and I’m pressed into the sand. My arms lift as we both face the camera,supposedly lost in a sea of passion. I know I will be later when Callan takes what he so desperately wants, desperate enough to get on a plane and follow me. Shit. How am I supposed to escape him now? I thought he understood and accepted it.
Viola is a big deal, and her swimwear is worn by all the world’s most notable celebrities. I even have a few pieces myself, and I wanted to work with her again. I jumped at the chance, but I almost backed out when I heard it was with a male model. It's part of the job, and I've been photographed professionally with many established models, but it also brings a complication with it. I can see that slow burn in Samson’s eyes, knowing before long he will approach me in a more personal capacity. I hate being the ice queen, but I can't allow people into my life.
We do a few more shots with us being more playful, me on his back, him resting his head in my lap. I prefer those, but when I look up, Callan is no longer there. I stand from where I was sitting and look around for him. Did I imagine him there? Maybe I’ve had too much sun, or maybe I am losing my mind. A few minutes later, we call it, and I begin collecting my things up.
“So, Zara, fancy grabbing a bite to eat, a drink maybe?” Sam asks, and there we go, a quick fake roll in the sand, and I’m a good-time girl.
“I'm beat. I'm going to head back and chill out. Great work today.” I know I sound patronising, but I want to put distance between us. Need to. His face shutters, but he forces a grin on his face.
“Sure, catch you in the morning.”