TRAGIC: Rook and Ronin, #1 (16 page)

Elise is all business and I kind of like that because she seems like a straight shooter, she just lays it all out and steps back to let me react.

"I'm ready."

And I am. I listen to every word, she points out every single stipulation in the contract. Nowhere does it say I will take off my clothes, and nowhere does it say I can't refuse to do certain shots. I like this part. What it does say is that if I don't cooperate and allow the photographer to produce what he's asked to fulfill for the contract, I will not be paid. And if I don't follow the rules of conduct for the models, I will be fired and asked to leave.

It's my choice.

I initial each stipulation without blinking. I can do this, I've decided. I will be cautious and think clearly and make decisions based on facts and not emotions. And the fact is that right now, I want that money. If I can get a few thousand dollars together, I can really make a go at starting again.

I'm not stupid—I know modeling is a short-term thing. This is not a career, just a stepping stone.

So I initial every stipulation and sign the contract.

Because I've thought about my second chance a lot over the past several months. I've dreamed it. I want it very badly. And for whatever reason the Chaput people have decided they want to help me get it. So I'm taking this chance and running with it until I'm out of breath. And when I've gotten all there is to get from it, I'm out and onto my own dreams.

Elise hugs me after my hand swishes the final letter of my name on the contract. "OK, Rook, let's go make some big money, shall we?"

"We shall," I say, laughing.

Elise and I walk into the studio together and I'm surprised at how calm things are compared to yesterday. She reads my expression. "Mondays are crazy," she explains. "We have to get all the contracts for the week settled and everyone is tense until the schedule is cemented. Most days are not like Monday, but they can be if we get something in that's on a short deadline."

She directs me to the salon chair and today we are the only ones, like it was last week when I first showed up. Has it only been five days since I met these people? Since I was homeless? Since I spent my last ten dollars on a coffee and had that little white card flipped at me in the coffee shop?

It can hardly be possible, but it is.

I have only really known Ronin for three days and change. The first day doesn't count because we never got a chance to talk until the day was over. He only said that one phrase about not making it here if they couldn't touch me when I first showed up.

Oh. God.

What am I doing?

Elise, the ever-perceptive older sister, picks up on my apprehension. "Take a deep breath. I'll be watching the whole thing, Rook. No one will take advantage of you here. I see everything."

I believe her and my heart rate calms.

"Besides," she says as she sprays water down the side of my face. "Ronin is your partner today, and I might be his sister, but it's hard not to notice. All the girls like him—"

I open my eyes and let some water splash in just so I can pay better attention to what she's saying.

"—
because
," she emphasizes, "he is very patient and gentle when the situation calls for it. He will take care of you while you're here modeling for us, trust me."

I relax and decide to go with it. I signed the contract, the money has been promised, the shoot is set up, I'm getting my hair done, and Ronin's hands are the ones that will be on me, not some stranger's.

That sends shivers all the way up my body.

Elise adjusts the water temperature, thinking I'm cold, and I decide that she really does see everything.

When Elise is done I change into a thin wraparound robe that ties in the front. She styles my hair straight, then braids it loosely so that it falls down the front of me. She paints on some make-up while another girl removes the cherry-red polish on my nails that was just applied yesterday and exchanges it for a pale pink.

When they turn my chair around so I can see myself in the mirror I'm a little taken back. "I thought the theme was tragic? I look… sweet."

Not at all how I imagined.

"Well, this is pretty much how tragedy takes hold, right, Rook? You start out all sweet and innocent and then bam, your world is ripped apart. So for this shoot you are happy and yes, sweet. I have your clothes set out in the dressing room, you won't have to worry about your hair, it's a zip-up."

And that's my cue to get up and get ready. My stomach is a ball of knots as I make my way into the dressing room. There's only one garment bag on the rack and it's got a slip of paper on it that says, ROOK—TRAGIC.

"Ready?" Ronin's husky voice whispers down into my neck as his hands brush against my shoulders for a moment, then take hold and turn me around.

"Yeah, I think so."

"OK, first things first. I need you to step on the scale." He points to a large stand-up scale in the corner. It looks like it belongs in a doctor's office.

"Why?"

He raises his eyebrow at me.

"I mean, why do you need to weigh me?"

He pushes on the small of my back and guides me over to the scale. "Because, Rook, this is my job here. I run the girls, I run the closet, and I take it very seriously. So now that the contract is signed, I have to keep track of you. Please, step on the scale."

I think I feel sick. He gets to weigh me? "What if I don't?"

"Why do you care if I weigh you?" he asks with an annoyed look on his face.

"It's degrading. You're reducing me to a number."

"It's not just a number, it's an indicator."

I turn as my whole body goes hot with anger. "Indicator of
what
?"

"Of whether or not you are following the rules we have in place for keeping the models looking a certain way."

He waits as I process what he just said and then reads my silence as acceptance and pushes me until I step on the scale. He steps around to the other side and writes the number down in a tablet. I can't see the number because it's hidden from this side.

"Well?"

"Well, what?" he asks, pushing me to move off the scale and shaking the garment bag at me.

"How much do I weigh?"

"It's just a number, Rook. I never tell the girls how much they weigh."

"Why not? It seems pretty stupid to weigh people and then keep it a secret if you ask me."

"Because I'm not interested in what you weigh, only in whether or not you change from the weight you are now."

I snatch the bag from him and walk away. I am so fucking glad I did not decide to rely on Ronin Flynn, because he's an asshole. I choose the same dressing room as I did yesterday and unzip the bag to look at the clothes.

It's a pink knee-length dress and it's straight out of Gidget. I stand on my tip toes and peek over the door.

Ronin smiles and waves his finger at me from down the hall.

There's no underwear or bra again.

I slip out of my clothes and pull the dress on. It's got a squared-off neckline that plunges right down to my girls and a wire underneath so they are pushed up high on my chest.

So I guess I'm skanky Gidget today.

"There's no shoes," I call out.

"Just go barefoot," Ronin says, peeking over the door at me.

"Do you mind?"

He responds by opening the door and stepping into the dressing room with me. "Turn around," he says, twirling his finger at me. "I'll zip you up."

Oh. I turn and he zips. "I thought you were shooting with me?"

"I am."

"Then how come you're not dressed?"

"I am."

"You're wearing jeans and a t-shirt, like you always do."

"Rook, no one gives a shit what I wear. They want me naked and if I'm not naked, then I'm just there to make you look good until we do get naked."

My face has got to be scarlet red. "Oh."

"Ready then?"

"Ready as I'll ever be, I guess." Ronin takes my hand and leads me out to the terrace and when I step over that threshold I feel it in my bones. Nothing about my life will ever be the same after this. I'm just not sure if that's a good or bad thing just yet.

Chapter Twenty-Seven - ROOK

I am lost in my own thoughts as Ronin leads me across the terrace to the cherry trees. Antoine and Elise are sitting at one of the picnic tables, chatting and smiling. There is no one else around, not even a light person. This makes me let out a long exhale and Ronin squeezes my hand. "You OK?" he asks, stopping for a moment to get my response.

"Yeah, I'm just glad there's not a lot of people around."

"I set it up that way, Rook. Just let me take care of things now, OK?"

I nod so he'll drop it, but this control stuff with him is really setting me back. He acts like I'm not allowed to question him.

We've reached Antoine and Elise now and they are talking, both to me and to Ronin, but I just nod my head and agree because I have no idea what they're talking about. Technical stuff. Natural light, Antoine says. I look around and yes, sure enough, the sun is shining right into the middle of the cherry trees on the east side of the terrace.

I study the 'set' and notice that the swing I was sitting in the other night is not even attached to the tree branches, it's attached to a long green pole that spans the entire grove. There's a picnic set up on the grass, complete with wine glasses, cheese, and a bowl of cherries. The blanket isn't checkered though, it's a crisp white with cotton lace on the edges, and there are cherry blossom petals all over the place. I'm not sure if that was planned or not, because each time the wind blows, those boughs, heavy with the sweet-smelling flowers, release dozens of them at a time.

Everything about these trees says climax. The flowers are mature, falling off and getting ready for the tree to bear fruit over the summer. It's a single moment in time that will be captured on digital film for eternity.

And I'm part of that.

I get the chills and Ronin, still talking to Antoine and Elise, absently pulls me closer to him, like he senses my needs and wants to keep me warm.

It's all very confusing. I like that he notices when I'm having a problem and need something, but I don't like relying on him for stuff and I hate the fact that he's allowed to make decisions for me. It's too personal.

But that's what this contract is all about though, isn't it? I've basically given them my body in exchange for money. And I just have to trust that they will not take advantage of me.

They are finished with their conversation and Ronin leads me over to the cherry tree and leans up against the smooth bark of the trunk and then puts his hands on my hips. We are not that close, there's a good eight inches between us, but I can feel his heat and his hands instantly warm the skin under my dress.

"You OK?" he asks.

"Yeah, I'm good. So what's the plan?" I nod my head over at the blanket. "Besides the picnic?"

"We're gonna get some straight couples shots right here against the tree. We gotta be quick to catch the light just right though, because Antoine likes natural light." He stops to nod at Antoine and the camera shutter begins to click as Ronin continues to talk. "And then we'll just have a little romantic picnic. Sound good?"

"OK, but what do I do? I don't get it."

"Just what you're doing right now, Gidget." He smiles at my new nickname and I blush a little. "See, that right there is what Antoine is looking for. An honest reaction to the situation. So I'll flirt with you and you react. That's pretty much it."

"I think I can handle that."

"Good," he says as his grip on my hips tightens and he pulls me into him. His hands sneak around behind me, not quite on my ass, but not quite
not
on my ass either. They are hovering just on the edge of inappropriate behavior.

Of course, I signed up for this so he's already got permission. I swallow and pull my upper body back as he continues to bring us closer.

"Relax, Gidge. I've got you."

I do, I relax and he pushes my pelvis against his groin. I look up quickly and he's almost laughing at me. The shutter is still clicking away as Antoine moves around us. He speaks to Ronin, but it's all in French, so I have no idea what he's saying and Ronin doesn't reply or translate for me. His attention is one hundred percent on my face, watching everything I do, searching my eyes for questions, his hands still hovering just at the edge of sexy as they caress my hips, then move down a few inches and return.

It's not so bad really.

Shit, who the hell am I kidding? Ronin Flynn's hands on my ass feel spectacular. I grin up at him and he smiles.

"Good, now let's move on to the next shot, OK?"

"What's—"

I stop mid-sentence because his mouth is nuzzling into my neck, his breath hot as it sweeps up into my ear, making me shudder and let out a little moan. "You OK?"