Page 65 of Hate To Be Mine

“I do know about art,” I said. “I’ve modeled for enough photographers and designers to have picked up a thing or two. And I spent a semester in Florence when I was twenty-two. Saw the Uffizi Gallery. The Birth of Venus is perfect. That’s what I want to recreate.”

Bernadette’s expression had shifted from guilty to interested. “You want to shoot one of the models emerging from the water.”

“Exactly. In one of Elizabeth’s swimsuits. Rising up from the ocean like Venus from her shell. We would need the right location, the right light, the right angle. But if we can pull it off?” I could see it in my mind and wanted so desperately to make it come to life. “It would be iconic.”

“What kind of safety concerns are there?” she asked. I could see her brain already working through the logistics. “Is it doable in a couple days, or am I about to tell you you’re crazy?”

“That’s what I’m asking you.”

She bit her lip, thinking. “I need to chew on it. But it should be doable. The main issues would be water depth, current strength, and the stability of whatever platform or rocks she’d be standing on. We’d also need to get a permit from the Miratoan government to film in the water like that.”

“A permit? Why? People are in the water all the time. It’s a beach.”

“Because the government is very particular and they are keeping a close eye on your operation in general. We’ll have to find the location and then put together a safety and environmental report. Then we have to submit it for approval. If we’re going to do this in two days, we need to get moving. Like, now.”

She squeezed my hand that I just realized she was still holding. She was genuinely enthused about this. She was actually excited to help me pull off something ambitious.

“We should go,” she said, already pulling me toward the edge of the pool. “We need to start looking at potential locations, draft the environmental impact statement.”

“Right now?” I laughed. “Bernadette, it’s nine-thirty.”

“So? We have internet. We have maps. We can at least start researching locations and figure out what we need to submit.” She was practically bouncing with energy. “Come on. Your bungalow has the laptop with all the location files, right?”

I let her pull me out of the pool, both of us dripping water. She grabbed her towel, wrapping it around herself, and looked at me expectantly.

“You want to go do paperwork,” I said. “Right now.”

“Yes. I want to go do paperwork. I want to make your artistic vision come to life safely and legally.”

It was cute as hell. Most people in my life wanted things from me. Wanted access to my family’s money or connections or wanted to be seen with me at clubs or parties. They wanted me to get them modeling gigs or introduce them to photographers.

Bernadette wanted to help me fill out government forms. And somehow, that was more touching than anything else anyone had ever offered.

“Okay,” I said. “Let’s go do some sexy paperwork.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled. We walked back to my bungalow together while keeping a safe distance.

Fuck, I might be falling for this girl for real.

Back in my bungalow, we spread out at the small dining table with my laptop and Bernadette’s tablet. She’d gone back to her room to change into dry clothes—unfortunately—and returned in shorts and a T-shirt that said “Safety First” which was so perfectly her that I had to hide my smile.

“Okay,” she said, pulling up a map of Miratoa on her tablet. “We need somewhere with no coral reefs, minimal tourist traffic, and ideally protected from strong currents.”

I opened the folder of location scouts we’d done before the trip. “What about here?” I pointed to a cove on the north side of the island. “We scouted it as a backup location. Private beach, calm water.”

She zoomed in on the map, checking something on a different website. “That’s in a marine protected zone. We’d need special permission, and even then, they might not allow a commercial shoot.”

“Damn.”

We went through location after location. Too rocky. Too deep. Too close to a reef. Too popular with tourists. Each one had something that made it unworkable.

“This is harder than I thought,” I admitted, rubbing my eyes. We’d been at it for over an hour.

“Good ideas usually are.” She pulled up another map view.

“I need to lie down,” I said.

We ended up sitting on my bed, legs stretched out and pillows behind us as we continued to search for the elusive perfect location.