I nodded. “Wow. This is all so much, Lola. I could have just brought some bottoms if you needed me to.”
“Don’t mention it, sweetie.” She smiled with her perfect white teeth as she walked up to me, then placed her hands on my shoulders. “You’ll do great. Think about the charity and how wonderful it’ll be to bring so much goodness to these women.”
“Yes. I want to give my all to the charity.” I couldn’t give a shit less about it, if I was being honest.
“Great.” She gave my shoulders a squeeze, and I wanted to break every single one of her skinny fingers. “I’ll have Georgia bring you another sangria, but there’s a minifridge by the bed with heavier drinks if you need one.” Another one of her winks. “After the shoot, I’m taking you out for lunch.”
Lola pulled away and left, but not without a confident smile over her shoulder. When the door clicked shut, I took a look around the room and sighed.
Fuck that photo shoot, Marriott! Taking pictures could wait. I needed to get acquainted with this guest room. I mean, it was stunning! I’d have much rather lived in it than my apartment in Liberty City.
I made way to the minifridge and opened it, spotting minibottles of wine, champagne, vodka, and water. I grabbed a bottle of pineapple CÎROC, twisted off the cap, and chugged the majority, then let out a wet gasp. This would definitely get me to loosen up.
I walked to the closet, taking down a pair of jean shorts that were shredded at the hem. I picked up a blue T-shirt from the stack of charity shirts, knowing Lola would favor it, and got dressed. As I looked at my reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror, there was a knock on the door.
I answered, and Georgia had another sangria in hand. “Enjoy,” she said in a prim-and-proper voice, offering it to me.
“Thank you so much.” Georgia started to turn, but I called after her. “What is it like to work here?”
She put on a courteous smile and said, “I love my job, Miss Elliot. I love this home and I’ll do whatever I need to do to protect it.”
She turned away quickly, but I couldn’t help noticing the look in her eyes before she walked off. A flash of annoyance or disappointment? I had no clue.
I poured the liquid of the sangria down the bathroom sink, dumped the fruit in the waste bin and, when I felt good enough, walked out of the guest room and back to the deck. Lola was sitting in a chair beneath the umbrella, sipping a sangria.
“Look at you! You chose wisely!”
I knew she’d say that. “Thank you.”
Lola stood and went to Xena. “Let’s get started. I want to take Ivy out for lunch early so I can make it back in time for dinner with Corey.”
“Yep, got it.”
Dinner with Corey? I had to find a reason to stay longer— just to see Corey. I was sure between now and lunch I’d be able to come up with something.
The photo shoot started, and it was awkward as hell at first. I’m not a model, Marriott. I had no clue what to do with my hands, but Xena told me to tug on the shirt or twirl with it, which I thought was kind of stupid, but it worked.
I’m far from model material, and the only way I got through it was by thinking about Corey. What would it have been like to kiss him for the first time? Hold his hand? Feel his breath mix with mine?
Would he dare leave his wife for me?
Would he dare risk it?
He would for me because I would love him. Please him. Take care of him.
Xena egged me on, clearly loving my sudden spark of confidence. I found Lola’s eyes every so often, and she was giving me a proud smirk with her hands clasped together. I had to give her reason to think she’d chosen wisely.
Someone ambled into the kitchen and stopped, and when I realized who it was, my confidence burst like a balloon.
I held back a gasp as the person stared at me from the wide island counter, brows dipped in confusion. The sleeves of his gray dress shirt were rolled up, revealing strong forearms, and his head was cocked to the left.
Corey. My Corey.
“Corey, honey, what are you doing home so early?” Lola asked, moving to him in her heels when she noticed him too. She seemed annoyed by his presence.
Corey finally looked away from me to focus on his wife. “My last client was an hour ago,” he said.
Xena stopped shooting and told me I could take five minutes while she went through the set of photos. I stood where I was, picking up my new glass of sangria from the table nearby as a distraction.