Page 39 of Exquisite Temptation

"Thank you, Sir. I really appreciate your support. Normally, I don’t experience panic attacks, so it took me by surprise."

"Anytime, pet. I’m glad I could help. What happened?"

"Someone vandalized my car. They slashed the tires, smashed the wing mirrors, windows and lights, and ripped the windscreen wiper-" I come to an abrupt stop as a ball of emotion clogs my throat, cutting off my words. "What is most disturbing is that they left a photo of me and you, and a black rose." He clenches his jaw, his expression closed up.

"Where is the photo?" He clenches his jaw, his closed expression causing my breath to quicken again.

I point to the kitchen. "It’s on the ground by the stool." He unclenches his jaw, softening his face. "It’s okay, pet. We’ll figure this out together." Shooting up, he spins around sharply and storms to the kitchen.

I pet sleeping Isis, calming myself with the repetitive strokes while I wait for him to come back. Strolling back with two mugs, he hands me one and reclines on the armchair.

"Chamomile tea with a dash of honey. It will help calm the anxiety."

"Thank you, Sir. Did you see the photo?" He dips his head once. "What do you think?"

"Whoever left it probably wanted to send you a message."

Could it be Emma? My brother told me Christopher spurned her advances. She’s never liked me, but now she probably loathes me with a passion. What if she is unhinged like Nathan and tries to stab me to death?

"But why? I hardly know anyone in Seattle. I don’t think it’s Tristan. He wouldn’t bother doing anything when he seems to have reconciled with his ex-submissive." I answer in a rush of words that I regret the moment they come out of my mouth.Damn it, when you are going to learn to think before you speak.I give myself a mental slap.

"How do you know he is back with his ex?" He drills me with a dark glare, ramping my pulse into a thundering stampede.

Inferno-like blush scorches my cheeks. "Umm…we have joint friends on social media, and he keeps posting photos of them." Raking my fingers through my hair, I rise to my feet. "If you can excuse me, Sir. I need to book an Uber. The magazine photoshoot downtown starts in an hour. I can’t be late or reschedule."You also need to take a few shots of your car and file a police report,my overly responsible self reminds me.The police report will have to wait until tonight.

Holding his head still, he tugs his eyebrows down in obvious disagreement. "Sit your ass down. I’m not letting you out of my sight until we work out who is after you."

Tipping my head to the side, I pout my lips in frustration. "But, Sir-" He stares at me in warning.

"You shouldn’t be alone right now. They could lurk around, waiting for you."

"If I take an-" He cuts in, his expression darkening.

"I will not repeat myself, pet. Do you see any reason I can’t take you downtown?"

I know any further attempts to dissuade him are futile and will end up with him punishing my ass. Instead, I plaster a small smile and agree with him.

"No, I don’t, Sir."

He spreads his lips into a victorious grin. "Good girl. Stay here while I cancel my meetings. It won’t take me long, then we can set off."

I watch him strut off, painfully aware that this incident has awoken the dark side of his Scorpio. They are jealous, overprotective, and can become borderline obsessive. Not even God can help me now.

As he promised, we arrive downtown on time. On the way, he tells me not to book an Uber and that he will come back to get me when I’m done. I stroll into the spacious studio equipped with a thick bamboo suspension pole, enormous lights, and a white screen. A few stray rays of sunlight filter through small windows, caressing the vibrant summer flowers assembled on the large table. I can’t wait to see what Master Kaito will do with these later. My eyes shift to the five twenty something, tall, slender, and beautiful models, drinking water and chatting in the refreshment area. While a middle-aged petite, red-haired makeup artist runs around them, checking and retouching their fully made faces. I spot Master Kaito, dressed in kimono style black attire, leaning on the wall with a mug in his hands.

He looks just like I expected. Youngish looking, forty-year-old, dark, stylishly cut hair, and clean-shaven face. Plodding over to him, I rehearse the Japanese phrase in my head that my brother taught me. Please, God, don’t let me butcher this. When our gazes meet, he straightens up, curving his lips into a warm smile. We greet each other in Japanese, dipping our heads in a sign of respect.

"Yoroshiku o-negai shimasu, Master Kaito."

"Yoroshiku o-negai shimasu, Micaela-San. You didn’t tell me you speak Japanese," delight rings in his deep voice.

"Sadly, I don’t, but my brother does. He taught me a few words." Blush creeps to my face as I wonder if I sounded like a two-year-old trying to use complex words.

"You did great," he reassures me.

"Doumo arigatou. I’ll set up my equipment, and we can start whenever you are ready." He bobs his head, then we bow to each other again.

Placing my camera and lenses on the table, I slump over in the chair and take a large gulp of water, riding the waves of the aftereffects of the massive panic attack I had this morning. I wish I could go home and curl into my bed, but there is no calling in sick when lots of people rely on me. Copious amount of water and chamomile tea should get me through the day. Suddenly, the hypnotic, ambient, and almost lullaby sound of Kitaro drifts through the studio, telling me we are about to begin with the session. Clutching my camera, my gaze follows Master Kaito with rapt attention as he creates a visual masterpiece with the help of black rope and flowers. My breath catches in my throat as I capture the beauty and artistry of the intricate knots and patterns of the black rope and the exquisite arrangement of the blossoms, branches, leaves, and stems woven around the model’s arms, breasts, stomach, and legs. I have no words to describe the picture of her slender, naked body suspended in the air with her head tipped back, and the serene, meditative expression on her face.Human ikebana, my mind chimes. That’s absolutely the right word. My heart quickens with joy and happiness, sending pleasurable shivers down my spine. I’d give anything to trade the model places.

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