The Idol's Captive Bride

An Invitation Accepted

Chapter 2: An Invitation Accepted

Eventually I go inside. I avoid checking my emails for about an hour, although I can't stop glancing over at the computer. I spend the time cleaning my lounge-room, and talking loudly to Muttley about how ridiculous it is to behave like a lovesick schoolgirl over a celebrity. A dreamy, wealthy, ridiculously out of my league celebrity who definitely dates supermodels and actresses, and in no way would be interested in a mediocre makeup artist from the sunshine coast. Muttley looks at me sadly. I plop onto the couch and look sadly back at him. Who am I kidding? I give up the charade of tidying, and open the laptop to check my emails.

There are three; an invitation to view the mood-board and brief for the job, a Google Maps link for the location of the shoot that I add to my calendar, and a contract outlining a day's work, up to 12 hours, and an impossibly large sum I will be paid for my time. I stare at the figure in shock. It's enough to cover my expenses for the next three months. It's big-time money, money I didn't plan on quoting for at least ten years. I hurriedly sign the contract and email it back. Right now, I don't care if they want me to spray paint him gold, all I can think of is the Sephora sales coming up, and the airbrushing kit I have been saving up for all year.

I open the mood-board, and stare at the brief in shock. I'm not sure I can handle this, I need a cold shower just thinking about it. This job may just kill me. It's a Calvin Klein editorial, to be published in Vogue Japan and Korea. I'm so far out of my depth with this job. I'll be working with a world class team, if I do well it might lead to more work, but if I mess it up...best not to think about it. I sigh. Oh well, if I mess it up, at least I can afford the airbrushing kit and get more weddings. My mind turns inevitably to Mr Park, and my cheeks flush immediately. Ji-Ho Park. Super-Idol. Billionaire producer, impossibly handsome, absolutely irresistible. I groan, and bury my head in the cushions. All I can think of are his lips...how soft they felt under my fingers. His jawline, chiselled perfection. My belly heats, reminding me that it's been two years since I broke up with my ex, and two years of pretty much no s*x. That's probably what's wrong with me, I think. It's probably just too long since I had someone over, and this sudden exposure to a terribly attractive man is too much for my poor neglected ovaries. My mind drifts back to that glimpse of his chest, and how wickedly he looked at me when he caught me staring. “AARGH!!” I throw the cushion across the room in frustration, making Muttley jump in surprise, and storm off to the shower to try and wash this frustration and desire away.

After a lengthy shower, I grab a glass of wine, feed Muttley, and tuck myself into bed with a book. After a while, I give up on reading and decide I may as well do some social media 'research' on Mr Ji-Ho Park. This only depresses me further. A string of the expected paparazzi shots cosying up with beautiful models in exotic locations. Appearances at all the best parties, both alone, and with a variety of starlets clutching him possessively.

Up until a year ago, he seemed to be fairly serious with the Canadian supermodel Natalia. She's one of those golden haired, golden skinned immortals, all topaz eyes and endless toned legs. I poke my pale thighs sadly. Luckily I don't burn, I just have eternally pale skin. No matter how much I sun myself, all I manage to do is get a little more beige, and a million times more freckled.

I zoom in on Ji-Ho, making Natalia's perfect face disappear. I sigh heavily. I don't think I've been more fascinated with someone since my first romance in Year 9. It's disconcerting, but also immensely exciting. I flick through some more of his fashion shots.

Ji-Ho in a suit, patent leather shoes gleaming as he steps out of a private jet. Ji-Ho in a menswear editorial, glowering seductively at me over a martini glass. Ji-Ho emerging from the ocean, water beading off golden, sculpted abs, boardshorts slung low over his lean, muscular hips. My hand creeps into my panties, and I bite my lip hard as my fingers touch the growing wetness.

I start to caress myself, moaning softly as I flick to the video attached to the swimwear picture. Ji-Ho strides through the ocean, muscular thighs parting the waves, the wet, clinging fabric hinting at his c**k. I move my fingers faster, and feel my heart rate increase dangerously. The camera pans lovingly across his abs, droplets of sea water glistening gold in the sunset chase each other down the sculpted muscles. I pant hungrily, thinking of how I would kill to lick that water off him. I dip a finger inside myself, savouring the silken feel, and gasp as the muscles tighten in anticipation of ecstasy. The camera pans up, as Ji-Ho runs a hand through his hair, those perfect lips start to lift in a smile....then the ad cuts to the perfume bottle, and I groan in frustration. Damnit. This is not helping. Now I'm all wound up and tomorrow will be hard enough already. I decide to take a cold shower, and then flop back into bed, and choose a documentary on Scottish wildcats. Soothed by a gentle scottish brogue and fluffy danger kittens, I slip into an uneasy slumber.

My alarm goes off way too soon, and I stumble out of bed to the bathroom, tripping over Muttley in the dark, making him yelp reproachfully. I feel guilty about having to leave him all day, so decide to take him for a run on the beach before breakfast. While we're galloping around in the cool dawn winds, I start to think through my plan for the day. If he liked my work yesterday enough to call me for another job, I should probably stick to that. As it will be underwear, some golden highlighter on his body would be nice...mmm, that would be very nice actually. I stop abruptly and shake myself. Stop it! I have to find a way to concentrate on my job today. I decide to call Gloria for advice.

She is sounding much better, but positively deafens me with a screech when she hears about today. 'See, Rosa, I knew you would be amazing!! I can't wait to see how you'll do! Congratulations on your first big job! Onward and upward baby!' Her enthusiasm and praise is just what I need to get my mind on the job. We start talking over the brief, and I tell her the location, mood board and colours. As always, she gives me good advice on trends, product, and how to prepare. As I hang up, I resolve to take her out to dinner when I get paid for this job. She's been my biggest cheerleader, and I wouldn't have this opportunity at all without her.

Back at my flat, I realise I need to get moving. My kit is still packed from yesterday, so I take the time to clean my brushes and add a few extra products I might need. I look through my wardrobe and choose a tawny brown linen shirt-dress that complements my eyes, and somehow makes my freckles look cute instead of blotchy. I swipe on some mascara and moisturise; today is going to be a long day. I hope I can hold it together...kissing Muttley goodbye on his shiny black nose, I pack the car and head off to the high rise luxury penthouse the shoot will be held at.

Handing the keys to yet another unimpressed concierge, I fake confidence as I enter the lift. It seems to take forever to reach the top of the building, and my anxiety grows with each floor that dings past. My hands are sweating, so I grip my case harder and focus on my breathing. Soon I feel a little more confident, and just in time, as the lift opens into the lush, opulent foyer of the top floor.

There is only one door, directly in front of me, so I head for that, and knock firmly. A smiling young assistant opens it, and beckons me in. I glance around the room, not realising I am holding my breath until I see Mr Park lounging in a leather armchair, and involuntarily sigh. He is regarding me with an unreadable expression in his dark eyes, but doesn't say anything. I feel my knees go weak, as the scent of him enfolds me again, sandalwood, cinnamon, and that hint of rose. I clutch my makeup case in front of me, as if in defense, as he rises elegantly and strides towards me. He is wearing only a black silk robe, and his fragrance grows intoxicatingly with every step.

Mr Park extends a hand, still gazing into my eyes, and smiles, so that my knees almost give way at the discovery he possesses the most adorable dimples. “Thank you for coming at such short notice, Miss Rosa Corbyn” he says, and I want to sink into the velvet that is his voice, and be lost forever. I stammer something about the pleasure being all mine, then blush horribly as he takes the hand I offered automatically in both of his. The assistant grins a little at my confusion, but clearly is used to dealing with this reaction to her boss, and quietly offers to make tea. I cannot even respond, all I can feel is his long, muscular fingers enclosing my hand completely. He leads me forward, and sits me beside him on the lounge, then looks intently into my face, still holding my hand. His closeness has blinded me to all else.

“Yes, thank you for coming at such short notice. Your work yesterday had a delicacy and subtlety that will suit today's shoot very well. I dislike heavy makeup, and the photographer yesterday is the same as today, so she requested my team engage you again.” I nod, trying to look at his eyes and not that bewitching mouth. My heart is hammering in my chest, and the blush still hasn't left my cheeks. He is so close, I can feel his hard thigh against my knee. The robe has fallen open at the chest, and I am trying to ignore the delicious peripheral view of his sculpted chest, focusing instead on his golden eyes. He is smiling again, awaiting my response, and I can't seem to manage one as the only thoughts going through my head are far too inappropriate to be spoken.

Fortunately before the silence grows any more awkward, his assistant returns with tea for us both, and starts cheerily discussing the plans for the day. She has a kind, pretty face, and has made the tea perfectly. The photographer and other stylists arrive, and the room is quickly full of people and equipment. Mr Park jumps up and begins talking to the photographer about the job. The clothing and hair stylists join in, and I sip my tea and dreamily admire Ji-Ho's silk clad posterior, which appears to be as muscular and defined as the rest of him. Suddenly he turns to me, and gestures me forward with another adorable smile. “Come here, Miss Corbyn, I want to show you the bedroom.” My brain seems to freeze, I don't think it could handle a silk clad Ji-Ho Park and the word “bedroom” at once, but he takes the tea cup from me, and leads me to another door. 

All I can do is submit and be led into the bedroom.