Page 113 of The Faking Game

“I’m always your guard.” We walk to a makeshift changing room in the corner. She disappears behind a drape, and I lean against the wall outside. My hand is clenching and unclenching.

But I can’t resist the urge.

“Why did you do this shoot?” I ask her.

There’s silence on the other side of the drapes. “I told you, it was for a new brand that my brother bought. It’s up-and-coming.”

“That’s not why I asked.”

“They needed models.”

“There are thousands of models in New York.”

There’s a rustle of clothes behind the curtain, and I imagine the slide of lace off her hips, the release of her tits. “My modeling agent works closely with my brother. He just bought this brand for Maison Valmont, and it shows… confidence in them if I’m in their first campaign post-acquisition.”

They’re words she’s been told. Probably by Rafe.

“But you don’t want to model anymore,” I tell her.

There’s another long few seconds of silence. “Are we practicing arguing again?”

“I’m arguing with you for you.”

“That doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

“It makes perfect sense.” My eyes catch the faintest of movement behind the microscopic slit of the curtain. “You performed up there, with those male models. Didn’t you?”

“Of course I did.”

“Did they touch you?”

“Only a few times.” The curtain is pulled back, and there she is, handing me my jacket. She’s in a black cocktail dress. It hugs her body, coming down almost to her ankles. Her hair is in big, bouncy curls, loose around her face like she’s spent an entire afternoon in bed. “It’s what I’ve been trained to do. There’s an expectation, yes… but I know I can meet it.” She shrugs a little, but there’s high color on her cheeks. “I’m in control because I’m playing a character.”

“And the men?”

“We’re acting,” she says. “There’s no real intimacy.”

“Did you want to do the shoot today?” I ask her.

“It doesn’t matter what I want. I was asked, and I said yes. And now I’m done with the shoot.” Her voice is annoyed. Good.

“But what will you do the next time your agent, or your mother, or Rafe asks you?” I put out an arm and brace it against the other side of the opening, blocking the way. “What will you tell them?”

Her lips part on a sharp exhale. “I don’t know. I’ll figure it out when it happens.”

“You’ll stand up to them,” I tell her. “Because it’s your life, and you’re the only one allowed to decide what you’ll do with it. Doesn’t matter if they think it’s a great opportunity. Doesn’t matter if it would make them happy.”

“You’re pushing too hard.” Her words are sharp, but the spark in her eyes isn’t. “They’re my family. They’re not guys I’m trying to date.”

“Doesn’t matter, does it? You want to please them all. But you can’t please everyone, sweetheart.”

“I know that. Of course I know that.”

“So what will you say? When they want you to model again?” I lean in an inch. “Please, Nora. Your face would help sales. It’s just one afternoon.”

She puts a hand on my chest. “You’re in my way, Calloway.”

“That’s my girl.”

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