Entangled (A Tryst Novel) Page 5

  Gio grins, as if he’s already won. “C’mon, bella, what does that matter?”

  I smile sweetly, which only eggs on the corners of his lips. “Because I want you to pay me what you were going to give her.”

  Blake tries to butt in, as if to save me from some sort embarrassment, but Gio cuts him off.

  “Done! With only one more requirement.”

  His words silence me, and I’m waiting for the punch line. I worry in this dirty world of LA that it’ll require something belittling, and I can’t fathom what models might have to go through. However, my gut tells me that Gio isn’t like that.

  “Let me photograph you.”

  “I thought that’s what we’ve already agreed on with this photo shoot?” I shrug.

  “No, I mean, I want a private photo shoot. I’d like to get some test shots.”

  My indignant tone is back as I stomp my right foot. “What? No!”

  Blake is still shell-shocked, silently watching me argue with this man.

  Gio grunts in a very ungentlemanly way, which at least gives me a glimpse of what I know is his young age. “Skyler, please. You’re being very difficult. I need you. Is that enough for you?”

  Blake’s mouth opens, showing his discomfort, but he shuts it, and I swear he’s almost smiling.

  “Need me?” I squawk. I’m uncomfortable now, and decide to switch gears. “How much?”

  “How much?” Gio repeats, confused.

  “Yeah?”

  “Ten thousand dollars.”

  I choke on my oncoming words, and both men chuckle a bit. I almost want to protest that it’s too much, but of course I don’t. "What about these other photos? What would they be like?”

  Confidently he responds, “Fully clothed, of course. But this photo shoot first, and then we’ll discuss the details of the other later.”

  “Fine. One other photo shoot and that’s it!” I don’t know what I’m talking or arguing about. This all feels like foreign currency; modeling, photo shoots . . . what? Cue head spin.

  As if Blake weren’t standing right there, Gio raises his free hand to my face. His fingers slide down the length of my jaw during my potential tantrum, like he’s catering to a child. “But it won’t change one thing, bella,” he adds.

  I squint, not at all understanding. “What thing?”

  His charming yet sly smile appears for the second time in reaction to my antagonistic tone.

  “That I might have found my muse. But we will need those test shots first.”

  “Excuse me? Your what?” My voice has shifted to a whisper.

  I turn to look at Blake, who only offers me a shrug.

  Huh? This can’t possibly be a good thing.

  With that Gio exits the small space, leaving Blake and me alone, and I know I’m only minutes away from the bombardment of the strange entourage again.

  “Blake?” I hiss. “What’s going on?” I breathe out.

  “Don’t you know who that is?”

  I scrunch my brows. “Giovanni Vigilucci?” I repeat his full name robotically, not having a clue what meaning his name holds.

  Blake grabs for my face with both hands, chuckling, on the verge of bringing my lips to his. “He’s a very renowned photographer. I guess you wouldn’t know that, but he is. He does Vogue, Harper’s Bazaar, Vanity Fair, and all that. Everyone wants to work with him.”

  He says it as if it’s supposed to make me feel better, and I should be happy by the turn of events.

  He leans in to close the distance between us, but I stop his onslaught of kisses with a firm hand against his chest. This all feels so bizarre. “Blake, am I supposed to agree to all this?”

  “What Gio wants, Gio gets.”

  I scoff at the remark. “No. Gio doesn’t get to have me if I don’t want him to.”

  “You’re right, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

  Blake’s features fall in such a way that I wonder if this could be the lingering disappointment I very much want to avoid.

  “Is he your friend?”

  Blake nods. “Yeah, I guess he is. We’ve worked together for a long while.”

  “Should I do this?”

  Blake pushes past my hand, kissing me hard and quickly, leaving me breathless. “Why not? Ten grand in your pocket, and a photo shoot with the best photographer in the biz. Some might call you the luckiest girl in LA, and you just stumbled upon it.”

  I want to reply with something snarky, like, No, my super-hot, stupid boyfriend asked me to come . . . But suddenly the meaning of his words dawns on me, and I feel ungrateful. I know of many girls, even some of my classmates, who traveled to LA with the hopes of getting even slightly noticed. I should try understanding the enormity of this opportunity.

  “You’re saying I should do this?”

  He smiles my favorite smile, and the singular dimple is there, matched with his sprite-green stare, commanding me body and soul. He almost seems excited. “I’m saying, what could go wrong?”

  “Do you trust him?”

  Finally, a look of concern flits across Blake’s angular face as he thinks it over, but it isn’t long before he says, “Yes; yes, I do. I mean, I’ve never known Gio to date the women he works with, or treat them poorly, if that’s what you mean by all of this. Plus, it could be fun.”

  Is that what I mean? Am I worried he’ll be attracted to me romantically? Am I worried what Blake might feel with the situation? I pause, thinking Blake is obviously okay with all this, so why should I have such a problem? It’s only one gig . . . okay, maybe two, but that’s it.

  I grab for his strong, muscular arms, finding they balance me in more ways than one. Something else begs to be asked if I agree to all of this. “Blake, what does he mean by his muse?”

  He lets out a shockingly loud laugh at the sight of my well-crafted, nervous pout, and I worry instantly about its meaning.

  Shocking us both, there is a bright, sudden flash, and I look up to find Gio has been lurking and snapped a photo of us in the heat of the moment.

  Both men begin to laugh, and all I can manage is a shout. “Gio!”

  What have I gotten myself into?

  BLAKE

  I chew my cheek curiously as I trail behind Skyler, her flawless back leading the way. Skyler turns around to give me her patented lost girl look as her arms tightly cover her bare bosom.

  “Stop smiling at me like that!” she snaps as her bright blue orbs lock with mine.

  As we approach the white backdrop I offer her a shrug. “I’m not smiling.”

  “You are! And you’re laughing at me.” Her nose wrinkling in disdain has my lips twitching wryly. It’s almost too much fun watching her squirm.

  I peer over my shoulder to see Gio loitering, and although he seems distracted as he’s altering a light fixture, I can tell he’s listening. His interest in my girl is just professional, right? I don’t want to get ahead of myself and hate him for it.

  I pull in a deep breath and ignore the odd warning flutter in my gut. “I’m not laughing. At least I don’t mean to be. You just need to relax, babe.”

  I watch her chest visibly rise, as if taking the comment as a direct order. Her exhale that follows is anything but calming. I take a step toward her, grabbing for her waist, eager to have my fingertips make contact with her skin. I have to remember I’m working, and that we have an audience, greater than just a single photographer, who is also watching intently, curiously even.

  I’m tempted to give a kiss of comfort, and wonder whose comfort it would be for, but, as if sensing my goal, Gio snaps from behind, “Skyler, would you quit being so shy . . . please.”

  Skyler’s audible chuff has me laughing, but as she reluctantly peels her arms from her chest, this awkward realization that strangers—and Gio—are seeing my girl naked from th
e waist up doesn’t sit well with me.

  Although the thought process is lightning-quick, my body involuntarily leaps in front of her to block the view.

  Gio, all-knowing, smirks to himself with an unrestrained eyebrow raise. His fingers stroke his square jaw. Lucky for me he seems to allow it as he slowly brings his camera up to his face as he says, “Have it your way, Blake. Now show me that you love her,” as two rounding clicks echo into the empty space between us.

  Skyler clings to me as she presses her naked body against mine, and in that single moment I realize she may actually be in over her head. How would she know what to do? She peers up at me through long, bashful lashes, pleading with me, and I don’t know what to say.

  “Skyler, look at me,” Gio goads.

  I notice a visible gulp of her throat as she obeys the order, turning her head his way. I follow her gaze to Gio, and he’s grinning behind his large lens, which at least helps Skyler’s tight smile loosen.

  “Better, bella. Now, I want you to pour out your anger at me for forcing you to do this shoot. I know you are angry. And Blake, hold her gently, but as if you’re holding her back from moving forward . . . Deep breaths, bella. Blake is right: relax, and you’ll be a natural.”

  My fingers tighten against her skin, but funnily enough her body releases its tense stance, and as I glance at her face, I get what Gio is talking about in an instant. Skyler’s eyes suddenly bore in with an intensity that I’ve always been aware of, but dammit, the blue sparks are electric as her plump pink lip juts forward in unison with her jaw clenching. She stares back into the camera with effortless defiance that I know Gio is a fan of.

  The corner of my mouth arches upward at the sight as my heart swells proudly, and I can’t help myself, even with an audience, as I lean forward to brush my lips against her delicate jaw line.

  Click. Click. Click. The camera sounds.

  “Good, Blake, more heated need. More frustration, bella.”

  In that moment, I realize that all we have to do is be ourselves to make Gio happy.

  I’m overly aware of Skyler’s every mood and move, so I notice the brief closing of her eyes when I drag my teeth across her jaw for all to see, and I consider it a win when her fingertips dig into my biceps and her cheeks blush a glorious rosy hue.

  Thank God for these tight jeans, because my hard-on would be difficult to hide otherwise. Her skin heats when it’s flush against mine. She’s so sensitive to every sensation, and I have to admit it’s one of my favorite things to tease her about.

  Click. Click. Click.

  “Skyler, put your hands against Blake’s chest. Act like you’re pushing him away. Act like you’ll never see him again, and that it’s better he just leaves . . .”

  The audible gasp from Skyler does not go unnoticed by me. I swing my stare to lock with hers, and her eyes tell me exactly what she’s thinking. It’s as crystal-clear as her eyes, and why she’s telling me like this now throws me.

  The topic of my flight to New York City has been a sore one, and the topic of our future even more so. Sometimes, we even make it a point to avoid the topics entirely. I wish we didn’t. She has to know I would do anything for her, and nothing will change that.

  I try to tell her with my eyes that I love her, green eyes to her blue, but hers do nothing but bore into me with apprehensive doubt that I know she would never say aloud, but there it is, as plain as day.

  Click. Click. Click.

  “More, bella! Tell him with your eyes you’ll love him no matter what, but sometimes love isn’t enough.”

  This time Skyler’s jaw falls slack at the remark, and her eyes release their intensity and transition into terrified, doelike orbs as she turns her face toward the camera, as if to stop the shoot right then and there. But instead, we hear five more rounding clicks.

  “Oh, bella, I think you’re more than perfect at this silly game of pretend.”

  Pretend? I think to myself. If anything, one thing has been made entirely clear to me. Skyler is scared of everything this world involves. Why not tell me? How am I just figuring this out now?

  Gio, too in touch with Skyler’s mood swings after just meeting her, releases the camera, handing it off to one of his assistants before making three long strides to be at my girlfriend’s side. Though I have her in my arms, Gio does not shy away from taking her entire face in both of his hands while speaking softly to her.

  “Ah, bella. Don’t let your emotions get the best of you here. They are tools, not weapons of self-destruction. We are done for the day. You’ve done very well, cara mia. But what are you so afraid of?”

  My skin crawls as I watch Gio’s overwhelming sincerity, but I’m frozen to the spot, and what shocks me more is Skyler’s response as her eyes only widen at the question as she says, “Tutto.”

  Of the little bits of Italian I know, it’s one of the few words I recognize. It means “everything.”

  Chapter 4

  Skyler

  I twirl Gio’s business card in my hand as Blake shuffles into the driver’s seat. I can’t take my eyes off of Gio’s name in embossed, black calligraphy. His business number is boldly printed below his name, and his cell phone number is scrawled in messy handwriting below that.

  Giovanni Vigilucci. What a character.

  Blake has been giving me the silent treatment since clothing himself and reappearing at the front door to lead me out. He didn’t look too happy when he watched Gio place two very European kisses, one on each cheek, before handing me off to him.

  Blake’s tight smile as good-bye was enough to confirm that he either knows what I was thinking during the brief hour of my encounter in front of a camera, or doesn’t like Gio near me.

  I consider the latter more plausible, and I don’t know how things turned so tense. This morning was flirty and fun, even up to the point of getting in front of the camera. I was so overwhelmed, and having Blake by my side was the only thing keeping me grounded. Regardless, now that Blake’s mine, I forget he can have such a ferocious jealous side.

  We drive five blocks before Blake cuts the silence.

  “I didn’t know you spoke Italian.”

  Huh? I sit up in my seat, my body and mind more alert at the sound of his tone.

  “Blake, what’s wrong?”

  He takes a deep breath as he turns the car right, down a familiar road, nearing home. He absentmindedly grabs for my hand on my lap, tightly intertwining our fingers together, giving me a gentle squeeze. “Nothing.”

  Bullshit.

  I grind my teeth, curious about how to handle this completely foreign situation. When can I admit I’m confused, too?

  “I don’t really speak Italian. I took a bit of it for my bachelor’s, so I know the basics.”

  He nods his reluctant understanding, and I hate that even angry Blake is still beautifully handsome to look at.

  “Blake, are you mad?”

  As we pull into the driveway, he grunts. “Great. Your brother’s home.”

  He lets go of my hand, steps out of the car without answering me, and that odd frantic feeling I felt when Gio accidentally stumbled upon my fears floods me.

  It shouldn’t be playing out like this.

  Luckily, Blake is waiting stoically in front of the car as I exit. His strained jaw says he’s upset, but his eyes say something else entirely.

  Before I reach him he extends his hand, hooking his finger in my jeans, yanking me into his arms. His lips crash desperately into mine, and with every welcoming, lapping stroke I can feel a muscle release its angst in his body.

  I wrap my arms around his neck, not realizing that all this time I’ve been craving him just the same.

  “I hate that I don’t know what do,” he breathes out as his mouth slows and then stops.

  I nip at his bottom lip. “It’s been a weird day.”

  H
e leans his forehead against mine. His green eyes are that contemplative, dark, forest color. “Weird would be an understatement.”

  I lick my lips, knowing that there’s only one way to solve this.

  “We need to talk.”

  His jaw twitches. “Yes, we do.”

  “About everything,” I add.

  “Yes,” he repeats.

  “I love you.”

  He smiles, lifts his hand up to my face, running his fingertips over my cheek. “I love you, too. I don’t think this is anything we can’t handle. You know, I won’t let anything get between us.”

  “What do you mean? Let what get between us?”

  He sighs and gives me his half-smile and singular dimple before he mirrors my word of worry from before, “Tutto.”

  Everything.

  Chapter 5

  Skyler

  I grab for Blake’s hand. His body is rigid as I tow him toward the front door. I want to make it right. How is it that the window he wanted to give me into his career has turned into some odd encounter with an overzealous Italian photographer who managed to pinpoint our relationship issues without even realizing it?

  The intuitive Italian jerk.

  When we make it to the top step, Blake stops me from reaching out for the doorknob.

  “I don’t want to deal with your brother right now.”

  “Have you forgotten that before all of this he was your best friend?”

  Blake rolls his eyes. “Yeah, and now he has some say in my job. I never know when I see him if he’s going to give me shit about dating his little sister, or work, or hell, whether I washed my dishes or not.”

  I release an exasperated sigh. Blake’s behavior is out of character, and I try to find a way to rein it in. “You need to breathe. My brother is still human. He means well, I promise.”

  “I just wish he’d cut me some slack.”

  “Maybe you should tell him that.”

  “Maybe I will, then.”

  I squint my eyes at him. “Are we seriously bickering about this?”