Page 25 of Picture Perfect

His expression changed, a shadow seeming to enshroud it for a moment, but then the façade was back up in place when he answered. “I suppose you can’t, can you? We’ll have nothing in writing. All you have is my word.” He ran his tongue along his teeth. “You know what? As a gesture of good faith, I’ll take down one of my exclusive photos right now—and you can watch. Would that help ease your fears?”

Hell, no, but my fears went deeper than merely hoping I could trust Greg to keep his end of the bargain. Lots deeper. I wasn’t going to say so, though, because I supposed this “act of faith” was more than I could have hoped for. “I suppose.”

I followed him into his office and stood behind him as he sat at his desk and clicked on his mouse. His website was already open in one of the tabs in the browser, and he clicked a couple of links until we were on a page with pictures of Shane and me. Seeing all the poses, the different lighting, various stages of dress and undress brought that day back to me, that day when I’d sealed my fate, possibly ruining the remainder of my life.

No, that wasn’t putting too fine a point on it.

He landed on one that was particularly suggestive—and damning. Yes, he knew exactly how badly these photos could ruin my career in the hands of the right people. I was looking at a picture on a dark background. Shane’s face couldn’t be seen—just his jaw. My face, though turned to the side, was recognizable, and I looked lusty, an expression I’d been able to conjure up for many a photo shoot, but as I recalled, part of that wasn’t acting that day. It didn’t matter, though. The worst part was that I was topless, my body turned toward the camera. Shane’s body was shielded by mine as he stood behind me, his large hands emerging from behind, cupping my breasts almost like a makeshift bra. “How about that one?”

Yeah, that would be a great start. I nodded, and Greg clicked on a different tab. He moved quickly, clicking with precision, and after a few seconds, he clicked back on the website tab and refreshed the screen. Scrolling down, he showed me that that particular photo was no longer on his website.

I knew the photo was still available should he choose to put it back up on the website; I was going to have to trust him—a difficult place for me, considering the position he’d put me in. That said, it was a gesture of good faith, as he’d called it, and I’d have to learn to trust him as much as I could. “I’ll take down one photo every month and then, at the end of the year, they’ll all come down. Does that help?”

Not really, but I wasn’t going to say that. Instead, I nodded again, as though I’d forgotten how to speak.

“But tit for tat. How do I know you’ll follow through with your end of the bargain?”

I wasn’t thinking clearly or I would have immediately countered with an argument that, unlike me, he had nothing to lose in the bargain. He knew as well as I did that if I didn’t follow through, he still had the photos—and even the one he’d just now taken down he could probably restore with a couple of quick clicks. My position was tenuous, though, and I feared that arguing wouldn’t benefit me, so I instead just raised my eyebrows and shook my head, letting him know that I didn’t have a good answer.

He sneered then and I felt my eyes narrow as I tried desperately to interpret his body language. “We could start now. That, for me, would be a solid indication that you’re on board and willing to do your part.” My body grew tense, knowing that meant but one thing—I’d have to give it over to him and let him have his way with me.

At this point, I merely prayed he wouldn’t expect me to kiss him. That would be next to impossible right now.

He got closer to me but kept his hands off for the moment. Cocking an eyebrow, he said, “Are you willing to start now? Your gesture of good faith?”

I believed I didn’t have much of a choice. If I said no, I would have expected him to restore the photo he’d just taken down back to its former spot on his website. In that aspect, I was already ahead today and, perhaps, if he was happy with our arrangement, I could later talk him into taking down more photos sooner rather than later. And I could spend the next month coming up with a game plan—one for securing a job for the future, coming up with a good explanation as to why I hadn’t applied before completing the dissertation process and that sort of thing.

So I nodded, unable to say it. I just didn’t have it inside me to speak the words.

“Come with me.” In less than a minute, we were inside the back area of the studio, in the space where most of the questionable photos had been taken. I glanced around, trying to ensure that there were no cameras ready to snap new photos of me in compromising positions. His mind was on my previous photo sessions as well, evident by his next words. “I have an eye for art and can keep my head in the game when I’m snapping photos, but that doesn’t mean that later on I’m not thinking about a session in a less-than-professional way.” He got closer to me and brushed the hair on my right side behind my shoulder, his fingers grazing my skin. If that had been Shane, I would have felt like I was on fire, as though my entire world revolved around that moment. But this was Greg, the apparently perverted photographer who’d been wanting to get his fingers in my pants for a long time and had found a way to coerce me into it.

He brought his lips to my ears and I felt myself shudder—not with desire but with repulsion.

“You are so goddamned beautiful, Ivy. From your almond eyes to the curve of your hips and the way you speak to the camera, you’re one of those rare creatures who says more with her body than she knows.” I could feel his hot breath against my neck and I braced myself to feel him touch me. It was a moment I’d been dreading since I’d considered moving forward with this agreement, and I knew the first touch would be the worst. After that, I’d find a way to grow used to it.

He couldn’t see my face but I wanted to be sure I wasn’t giving anything away, just in case he happened to look, so I closed my eyes. He wrapped his hands around my upper arms and I managed that okay, understanding then that it was the touch of his mouth on me that I dreaded the most.

But instead of feeling his lips caress my neck or ears, I heard a sound that touched me like music. “Get your filthy fucking hands off her right this instant.”

That was Shane. I opened my eyes, not fully understanding why he was there or what he was doing. Words once more escaped me but Greg had no problem speaking. “What the hell are you doing here, Shane?”

“That’s my woman there, and you’re not going to lay a hand on her.”

“Oh, you’re wrong. She belongs to me now, and I’m getting ready to take what’s mine.”

Shane got closer and looked at me. “Are you okay, Ivy?”

I blinked. My heart had just expanded to fill my chest cavity, filled with love and adoration for this man, but this gesture wouldn’t help my cause. I gave him a quick nod, letting him know I was all right and, I hoped, communicating that I was there willingly. His eyes left mine, though, as he reached into his jacket pocket. Then he flung two stacks to the floor that made a strange sound as they impacted the concrete beneath our feet. My mind wasn’t registering what was happening, so I stared at the floor, trying to wrap my mind around what was I was seeing.

“There’s twenty-thousand right now. The total for you to take down all her pictures is one-hundred thousand, right?” I swallowed, realizing finally what was happening. “The rest I’ll bring later in the week.”

Greg squinted his eyes, considering Shane’s words. “One hundred thousand?”

“Yeah. That was your initial offer, right?”

Greg looked over at me, as if I’d been a slice of decadent chocolate cake shown to diners, only to be whisked away by the server. “That was my initial offer…but I’m reconsidering now that we’ve moved on to other forms of payment.”

What happened next took me by surprise. Without hesitation, Shane propelled his fist into Greg’s jaw, hitting the man so hard he reeled. More than that, though, was Greg’s expression—one of complete shock. Then pain. He opened his mouth to speak, to demand to know what the hell Shane was doing, when Shane said, “No, you’re going to take the one-hundred thousand. And then you’re going to take her photos down and you’re going to leave them down.”

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