Page 147 of The Pact

The women who have signed up for the event have chosen a side—Halos or Horns.

They will bring the lingerie that fits the theme of their shoot. Cassie will handle the halos, the women who want angelic, whimsical photos. I’ll photograph the horns, the women who want dark, sultry photos.

They’ll get a mini book with a few images from the shoot, just enough to get them interested in what I offer and to show them that what I do isn’t evil or immoral—I mean, unless that’s the type of shoot they’re going for.

My photography is empowering. By the time they leave the studio, they’ll feel beautiful and strong.

“Are you ready?” Cassie asks.

I give her a nod and she unlocks the door, welcoming in the few that have gathered so far.

50

THEA

I’ve hardly been at the house since Saturday. The Halos and Horns event ran much longer than expected, then clean up took an hour easily. I passed out as soon as my head hit the pillow. I was back in the studio on Sunday for client sessions and editing all day.

I’m back at it again today. Thankfully, I don’t have any shoots booked—I’m dead set on finishing up mine and Cassie’s edits so we can submit the images to our photo book vendor.

My stomach growls. Fuck. I forgot to bring lunch with me.

Walking out to the waiting area, I raid the mini fridge behind reception. An apple. I groan at the near emptiness, but grab it anyway. Just as I’m standing up, mid-bite, I see the studio door swing open. Damian walks in.

I look at him, puzzled. “Is everything okay?” Something’s happened—that’s the first thing that comes to mind.

“No. You didn’t take a lunch. If you’re going to be working here all day, you need to eat.” He’s carrying a brown bag that looks far too heavy for one meal.

I’m still confused. “How did you know I didn’t take a lunch? I didn’t see you before I left.” Damian glances up to where I know he installed the camera, and my face falls flat. “Really? Spying on me?”

He shrugs as if it isn’t a big deal and heads back to my photo area, setting the bag down at my work desk. Damian pulls out the food.

“Where’s Cassie?” He asks, pausing.

Shit. “Uhh, she went home a little while ago.”

Damian tilts his head in warning. “I can check the cameras, Thea.”

I huff. “Fine. She popped in earlier, but it’s just been me for a few hours.” There’s a tick in his jaw. “Sorry, I know. I’m not used to needing a babysitter all the time.”

“Don’t let it happen again,” he orders before handing me a container. I pull off the plastic lid and see a bed of seasoned rice, grilled chicken with some kind of yellow sauce on top, and a lime.

Damian eats lunch with me. We’re mostly silent, although as soon as I’m full and content, I bring up him spying on me. “Do you watch me every time I’m here?”

“Of course I do, princess. With everything going on lately, there’s no way I wouldn’t watch over you.” He sets his empty container down and sprawls out on the velvet couch.

I scowl at him. “That’s an invasion of privacy.” His face remains blank, as if that isn’t a factor to him. “Well, I’ll avoid the waiting area, if that’s the case.” I challenge him and I know it might be a dangerous thing to do, yet I can’t help it.

A smile tugs at his mouth, making me frown.

He sits up, propping his elbows on his knees and leaning forward. “What makes you think those are the only cameras here?” What the fuck?

“Damian, you’d better be joking. That’s not funny.” He holds my gaze and I realize he isn’t teasing me. He’s completely serious. “You-you can’t do that! I have clients half naked in here. What about their privacy? Are you saying you are sitting at your computer and watching me photograph naked women?” I’m practically shouting now.

My outburst pulls a rare laugh from him and it’s so fucking sexy, but I’m too angry to appreciate it.

“Are you worried about me looking at other women?” He tilts his head, scrutinizing every emotion that crosses my face. “Because I can assure you I have no interest in anyone else. None could come close to comparing.” Damian’s eyes travel down my body slowly and then back up.

I roll my eyes at him. “That’s not what I’m worried about, Damian. I’m worried about the privacy of my clients.” I stare at him, unflinching, although I know that there’s a hint of insecurity somewhere on my face. It’s all Gavin’s fault—I was rarely insecure before him.

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