Page 82 of Hate To Be Mine

No, I thought. Never. I’ll remember every second of this for the rest of my life.

“Of course,” I said instead. “It’s just a fling.”

“Mm-hmm.” Annika sipped her coffee. “And that’s why you keep looking at him like your heart is breaking?”

I forced myself not to look over at where Sebastian still stood with the models. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t.” She set down her coffee. “Can I give you some advice? From someone who’s been around a lot longer than you?”

“I don’t think I want to hear it.”

“I’m going to give it anyway. That boy over there?” She nodded toward Sebastian. “He likes you. I’ve known him for years and I’ve never seen him like this. So whatever you’re running from, whatever fear is telling you this can’t work,maybe consider that it’s wrong.”

My throat felt tight. “It doesn’t matter how he feels or how I feel. The reality is that this can’t work. Our lives don’t fit together. My job depends on me being objective. My father would never approve.”

“Because you’ve decided it can’t, or because you’re scared to try?”

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. Because she was right and I hated it.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said with a soft sigh. “I knew exactly what it was from the minute it started. I’m a practical woman. I don’t get caught up. I’m logical and pragmatic. I allowed myself a little fun and that’s that.”

She smiled and it was very clear she thought I was full of shit.

Hell, even I struggled to believe my own bullshit.

29

SEBASTIAN

“Good, right?” I said to Clarissa, who was beginning to feel like a scarf or one of those stole things.

I casually moved my arm to get her boob off my bicep. I wasn’t an idiot. I knew when a woman was flirting with me. Although in Clarissa’s case, it wasn’t really flirting. It was an embossed invitation.

“I love the scenery,” Portia said.

They could look at the scenery. I was looking at the woman on my screen. I hadn’t been able to stop looking at her. I had spent the last hour showing the pictures to anyone that would look at them. It cracked me up because no one realized it was Bernadette in the photos. They saw the hair and the shadows and in several of them she was looking down so her face wasn’t visible. It was romantic and alluring. And perfect. It was better than the vision I had in my head.

She was perfect. And I wanted her in the campaign.

But I needed to make sure I wasn’t just being biased. That this wasn’t just me wanting an excuse to keep her close, to immortalize this moment, to have proof that what I felt when I looked at her was real.

“So give me your professional opinion,” I said to the ladies.

“Of course,” Clarissa said, brightening. She was always eager to be asked for her expertise.

“I’m thinking about adding her as a model to today’s shoot. Last-minute decision. What do you think?”

I could feel the chill coming off both of them. Someone was playing in their sandbox.

Clarissa’s eyes narrowed immediately. “Who is she?”

“Just someone we’re considering. What do you think? Could she work for the campaign?”

Portia leaned in, studied the photos. “I mean, if you want a shitty campaign, go for it.”

“Her vibe is all wrong,” Clarissa added. “Hard pass from me.”

I hid my smile. They hated her, which meant, in model-speak, they thought she was gorgeous and a legitimate threat. She was their competition. It was how it worked in the industry. You didn’t want anyone getting more face time. Modeling was a tough gig. People saw beautiful people posing, but it was so much more than that. One day you were the “it” person and the next some sixteen-year-old hot shot takes your cover. Once that happened, the jobs dried up and you were on the shelf by twenty-five. I knew it was harder for women. It sucked, but it was the industry.