Page 46 of These Thin Lines

Because those pictures… Those pictures ruined Vi’s life. And there was nothing she could do about that, even years later, as a mature and established photographer who commanded tens of thousands of dollars per session.

Nothing was ever the same after the moment Vi’s hands had directed the camera at that god-awful scene.

* * *

Years later,if you asked her how that ruination started, Vi would probably say it was when everyone at Lilien Haus was signing picture release forms. They were gearing up to present the collection at the first of several more public venues, the whole crew getting ready to fly to New York for a Poise showing. Vi would not be shooting that event, Poise having access to all the biggest photographers in the world.

But that didn’t even sting, since, after her Lago di Como work was featured in the promo materials, she was starting to get some calls and offers.

And speaking of Poise, Benedict Stanley, the magazine’s esteemed Editor-In-Chief, had offered her an apprenticeship. She suspected his call had a lot to do with a certain Princess, whose card still lay hidden and untouched in her clutch, because she could not fathom contacting her and asking for a favor. It seemed Allegra hadn’t waited for Vi to initiate things after all.

So Vi was flying a little aboveground instead of having her feet planted firmly on it, when Renate made her sign a standard release. She had a whole stack of them, all alphabetized on her desk, ready to be scanned. When Vi dared to step into the office and drop off hers, Renate sniffed and looked Vi up and down.

“We need to make sure they are all in order before you take a single picture inside these walls, am I understood? I don’t want to miss out on even one solitary good shot for the brochure because you took it prior to the model signing their form.”

Renate sat down, put on her reading glasses, and turned away from Vi. The conversation was over.

* * *

Vi shookoff the strange sensation she always had when she ran across Renate and almost skipped all the way up the stairs to Chiara’s studio. The idea behind their plans was a simple one. Vi, her newly cleaned and fixed camera, and a videographer would accompany Frankie and Chiara around Lilien Haus for a few days and document their work, showing off interesting bits and pieces of the collections, both new and old. The brochure, along with a short video, would be released as a teaser for the new line. Vi was elated.

Chiara’s bright eyes were twinkling with something that Vi couldn’t quite identify. She thought she should probably give up trying. Ever since they’d returned from Como two weeks ago, Frankie had become the most attentive of wives.

Predictably, she had also turned into the most impossible of bosses, picking at Vi and harassing her at every step. And she’d become very good at doing it when they were alone and both Chiara and Aoife were out of earshot.

Vi tried not to let it get to her. Her internship would be over in a few weeks. And as soon as they were back from New York, she’d pack up her measly locker, then return to embark on an adventure that any other person would kill to go on.

If only her potentially stellar prospects weren’t darkened by this one tiny wrinkle. Well, two. Frankie was still the jerk who did not deserve to kiss the oaken floors her wife’s bare feet walked on. And if only Vi weren’t very much in love with Frankie’s wife.

Actually, make that three. If only Frankie’s wife didn’t give Vi looks full of mischief and affection. Like she was doing now. Still barefoot, still with a pencil in her hair barely holding up the gorgeous dark curls, and still with a mouthful of pins, Chiara was a vision. Vi’s eyes stung for reasons she didn’t want to examine too deeply.

“I thought once a collection is shown, you’re done working.”

“I hear some sort of accusation in your tone, Ms. Courtenay.” Chiara’s voice was rather comical, as was her indignation, since the corner of her mouth still held on to three pins as she inserted a fourth on the mannequin tucked into the corner of the studio, where a piece of white silk was sure to become something gorgeous and flowing under her skillful hands.

Vi sighed. She knew exactly what those hands felt like on her skin, tucking a fold, or straightening a line. Gentle, careful, beautiful…

“Isn’t the workaholic in you ever tired?” Vi raised her camera and took a shot of the very hands she admired so much.

Chiara removed the last pin from her lips and turned to Vi fully, arms crossed over her chest.

“I beg your pardon, Ms. ‘I need to finish editing the photos of the collection even if it’s four in the morning.’” She probably didn’t mean for it to be as cute as it came out, but Vi was enchanted all over.

Yes, she was in too deep and didn’t care anymore. There was no salvation here. This woman gave her one of the greatest gifts there could be. Chiara understood her. Her quirks and her idiosyncrasies, and in fact very much displayed them herself.

It warmed Vi all over that Chiara actually paid attention, that she knew and kept track of the things Vi did for Lilien Haus.

But this was not a serious conversation, and since they were needling each other, Vi played along.

“You mean that night of the Como showing when you continued to make adjustments to some of the pieces, even though the media was already smitten?” She leaned slightly closer and managed to capture a raised eyebrow, amused and barely holding back a smile, mouth in a gorgeous closeup.

“Pot, meet kettle, Ms. Courtenay. And you really are very lucky that I’ve spent a number of years with a camera in my face at all times, or I’d be complaining rather loudly.”

“Ha, as if you’re not doing just that.” Chiara’s lips twitched at Vi’s comment, and she actually turned away to pick up another pin, seemed to reconsider, then faced Vi again with a more composed expression.

She looked so determined not to let Vi see how much she was enjoying this banter of theirs. But Vi was equally intent. “Also, these aren’t just some regular old photos. Come and see for yourself. One day, I will publish them and become filthy rich.”

At this, Chiara did snicker, and the sound was glorious to Vi’s ears. Chiara came closer, standing slightly behind Vi, leaning over her shoulder as they viewed the latest several shots together. Vi could feel the body heat and the subtle scent of Chiara’s unmistakable perfume. It was making her dizzy. This proximity, this shared intimacy. She could turn her head just a touch and she’d be looking directly into Chiara’s eyes, their lips a breath apart.

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