Page 71 of Hate To Be Mine

“Right there,” I called out.

She slowly turned and faced us. The light caught her perfectly. Golden morning sun highlighted her hair, making it look like the prettiest fire. The wind picked up, fluttering her hair. The water sparkled around her. She stood there like something from a dream. More like a work of art come to life.

And that was the moment I fell all the way in love with her. Not the beginning of falling. Not halfway there. All the way. Completely. Irrevocably.

I’d had sex with a lot of women. I dated models and actresses and socialites. I’d been infatuated, attracted, and interested. But this was different.

This was seeing someone and knowing, with absolute certainty, that they’d changed something fundamental inside you. It was a soul-deep realization that you’d never be the same. I knew every person I met for the rest of my life would be measured against her and the feelings she stirred within me.

“Bellissima,” Reese breathed. He snatched his camera and started snapping photos.

Both photographers worked from different angles, capturing Bernadette standing in the water like a goddess emerging from the sea.

And she was beautiful. Not model-beautiful in the conventional sense, but beautiful in a way that was so much better. Real. Unique.

She wasn’t wearing fake eyelashes and a ton of makeup. She wasn’t tall and model thin. I didn’t know if that’s what made her perfect or if it was my own feelings skewing my opinion.

Then she noticed everyone staring. Noticed the cameras pointed at her. Her confidence crumbled. She looked like she wanted to sink into the water.

I didn’t get it, but I knew I needed to get to her. I dropped her things on the ground, kicked off my shoes, and stepped into the water to meet her. I took her hand—couldn’t help it, didn’t care who saw—and walked her back to shore.

“You could be a model,” I said, only half-joking. “If you’re interested, I know people.”

She laughed, squeezing my hand before letting go. “Absolutely not. That was mortifying enough.”

“But you were perfect.”

“I was standing on a rock getting my picture taken. That’s not exactly performance art.”

“Still perfect.”

The photographers were already reviewing the shots, making excited noises. “Sebastian, this is brilliant. The composition is perfect.”

Bernadette looked pleased despite herself. “So you got what you needed?”

“More than.” I wanted to kiss her. Right there, in front of everyone. Wanted to tell her what I’d just realized. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now I need to finish this environmental report before we lose the whole day.”

Later that afternoon, with the report submitted and the crew handling final prep for tomorrow’s Venus shoot, Bernadette mentioned wanting to find souvenirs for her parents.

“There’s a little market in town,” she said. “I thought I’d grab a few things. Since we have the afternoon off.”

I had things to do. Equipment checks to oversee. Call times to confirm. Elizabeth wanted to review the runway show setup.

“I’ll come with you,” I said instead.

She looked surprised. “You don’t have to. I know you’re busy.”

“I can spare a couple hours.”

The truth was, I would have canceled anything to spend time with her. Would have blown off my brothers, the shoot, and my schedule for the rest of the year. That should have been alarming but somehow it wasn’t.

We took one of the production vans into town, which was pretty small. I assumed the only people that lived on the island probably worked at one of the resorts. Bernadette wandered through a store selling local crafts, carefully examining handmade jewelry and woven baskets.

She picked up a small carved wooden box. “My mother would like this.”

“Get it.”