Dangerously Irresistible

CHAPTER TEN

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Photoshoots are not something everyone gets to witness.

 I'm not talking about self-imposed photoshoots at home or at an alluring location taken by either a phone or a camera, composed to take images to post on social media.

 I'm not talking about catalog shoots, either.

 I'm talking about photo shoots with tons of expensive equipment, a highly skilled and as a result, usually somewhat arrogant professional photographer in either a stunning location or a gleaming studio featuring a high-fashion model.

 Few people got to witness such photo shoots. I was one of those few people.

 It was sometimes a perk and sometimes a burden of having a top supermodel as a best friend and roommate.

 When was it a perk? That would be when said photoshoot was at an exotic, beautiful location and when it enabled me to meet a professional such as a model or photographer or director whom making the acquaintance of would help me in my line of work.

 When was it a burden? Oh, that would be when it was a photo shoot in an insanely aesthetic apartment in Brooklyn after an exhausting, emotional day!

 Normally, I wouldn't mind driving for a long time to meet Jenna and show her my support.

 But today had been far from normal and all I'd wanted to do after work was drive home and indulge in a long, aromatherapeutic bath with a bottle of expensive French red wine and some chocolates.

 Needless to say, I wasn't going to be doing that anytime soon. Before I'd finished work today Jenna had called me and begged me to come to a studio where she was doing her latest Armani fashion shoot.

 I would've refused but it turned out that the reason Jenna had asked such a tedious request was because the male model whom she was starring next to was none other than her long-time crush; Nate Dyor.

 The last thing I wanted to do was go to a busy, brilliantly lit studio and observe my best friend getting hot and heavy with a man who, had it not been for darker eyes and much shorter hair, would've been an exact replica of the man whom I was desperately trying to get out of my mind.

 But, as I said, Jenna was my best friend. She'd been there for me whenever I'd needed her and it would be a violation of the best friend code not to return the favor.

 So, I'd forgotten the fantasy of a luxurious bath and wine and took a quick shower in the luxurious bathroom of Mr. Davis, my superior. The bathroom was fully available to me given that he was often abroad on either business or holiday.

 After said shower, I'd changed into a pair of distressed blue jeans and a casual Hilfiger cropped T-shirt. It was one of the three outfits I kept in my office for emergencies such as this.

 Then, after easing my sore feet from the stilettoes, I'd pulled on a pair of comfy converse's, pulled my hair out of the chignon, gotten into my BMW and driven down to Brooklyn.

 I had no trouble getting in, just having to give the receptionist my name and ID as proof before I was assured up into the penthouse.

 It was brightly lit not only with sunshine but also with lights, most of whom were trained on Jenna and Nate who were both posing in the balcony when I came in.