Page 3 of Hard Rock Deceit
Desire.
Those were things I'd never experienced. I'd started to think I neverwould.
Ice-colored eyes stared at me, aconsideringlook.
"It makes me wonder what the artist was feeling when they took them," hecontinued.
What had I been feeling? Under this man's gaze, I couldn'trecall.
"Maybe they didn't feel anything,"Isaid.
Or maybe they just couldn't express what they felt out loud, a small voice insidemesaid.
"All artists feel something when they create," he said. "That's why wedoit."
"We?" I asked. "Are you anartist?"
"Of sorts." He turned back to the photo. "I think the passion wasunintentional."
Of course it was unintentional. It was all cityscapes and street photography, not boudoir scenes. No one could say my photos werepassionate.
But thismandid.
"I might buy this one," he said. "I'll speak to the galleryowner."
The idea of my photos hanging on some stranger's wall always made me feel uncomfortable. Exposed. Even art showings were enough to cause unease. Still, if I wanted to make a living as a photographer, it was part ofthejob.
But the thought of my photo hanging on this unnerving man's wall wasn't discomforting. Instead, it stirred up something within me. Something that made my heart hammer in mychest.
The man left to speak to both the gallery owner and Ashford. My advisor eyed me. He'd been observing my conversation from afar. I hoped he hadn't heard what we'dspokenof.
Soon, the blue-eyed stranger made hiswayback.
"I'd like to make you an offer," he said. "Workforme."
I blinked at him, takenaback.
"As an event photographer," he continued. "It will be a short term contract. Only a fewmonths."
This was completely out of the blue. But… a job wasajob.
"What would I be doing?" Iasked.
"I can't divulge that until you sign a Non-Disclosure Agreement." He nodded to the exit. "Come with me and we can talkaboutit."
I shot Ashford a panicked look. He smiled and waved me off. I had to assume my advisor wouldn't steer me wrong. Maybe he did know this strangerafterall.
Following him outside, I found a shiny black limo waiting at the front door. A chauffeur in a suit jumped out of the driver's seat. He opened the back door for me with a slight tilt of his upper body, almostabow.
I stumbled on my words as I thanked him, wondering if I should tip. Was that the kind of treatment I could expect if I took this job? Who exactly would I beworkingfor?
With a moment of hesitation, I slipped inside and glanced around to get my bearings. The limo had cream colored leather seats, facing both the front and the back, with tinted windows. A partition separated the driver from theinterior.
The stranger from the gallery slid in, taking a seat acrossfromme.
"Is this a Fifty Shades thing?" I blurted out. "Where the billionaire kidnaps the young ingénue and takes her to his secret BDSMdungeon?"
He looked surprised for a moment before laughing and shaking his head, long blond strands falling over hischeeks.
