Chapter 8: The Photographer
867 Words
The next morning, Claire arrived with news.
"The magazine wants a photo shoot. Here. Today."
Ava frowned. "Why here?"
"The readers want to see where you live. The penthouse. The views. The luxury."
Alexander walked into the room. "No."
"Mr. King—"
"I said no. Our home is private."
Claire looked at Ava. Ava looked at Alexander.
"It's just photos," Ava said.
"It's an invasion."
"It's good publicity."
Alexander's jaw tightened. "Fine. One hour. No bedrooms. No personal spaces."
Claire nodded. "I'll tell the photographer."
---
The photographer arrived at 2 PM.
His name was Marco. He was young. Energetic. His camera was massive.
"Mrs. King, you're stunning!"
"Thank you."
"Mr. King, you're... intimidating."
"Good."
Marco laughed nervously. "Let's start in the living room."
---
The first photos were formal.
Ava and Alexander stood side by side. Hands at their sides. Faces serious.
"Can you move closer?" Marco asked.
Alexander put his hand on Ava's waist. She leaned into him.
"Perfect!"
The camera clicked.
---
The next photos were candid.
Marco asked them to talk. Laugh. Ignore the camera.
Ava whispered, "This is awkward."
Alexander whispered back, "Pretend we like each other."
"We do like each other."
"Then pretend we like each other more."
She laughed. Genuinely. The camera clicked.
"That's the shot!" Marco said.
---
The last photos were on the balcony.
The city stretched behind them. The sun was setting. The sky was orange and pink.
Marco stepped back. Framed the shot.
"Now kiss."
"No," Alexander said.
"It's for the magazine!"
"I don't kiss for cameras."
Ava touched his arm. "It's one photo."
"It's our privacy."
"It's our story."
He looked at her. His gray eyes were soft.
"Fine. One kiss."
---
Alexander pulled her close. His hand on her waist. His lips on hers.
The kiss was brief. Chaste. But the camera captured something real.
Marco lowered his camera. "Perfect."
Ava stepped back. Her heart was pounding.
Alexander's eyes were still soft.
"Are we done?" he asked.
"We're done."
---
The photographer left. The penthouse was quiet.
Ava sat on the couch. Alexander sat beside her.
"That wasn't so bad," she said.
"I hated every second."
"You're a good actor."
"I wasn't acting."
Ava looked at him. "What do you mean?"
He reached out. Touched her face.
"When I kissed you, I wanted to kiss you. Not for the camera. For me."
"Alexander..."
"I told you. I'm not pretending anymore."
---
She leaned into his hand.
"I'm not pretending either."
He kissed her forehead.
"Dinner?"
"Dinner."
---
They cooked together.
Pasta. Salad. Wine.
Ava chopped vegetables. Alexander stirred the sauce.
"This feels normal," she said.
"What?"
"Cooking together. Being together. Not performing."
"This is normal. The rest is performance."
She smiled. "I like this normal."
"Me too."
---
After dinner, they sat on the couch.
The fire crackled. The city sparkled.
"Alexander?"
"Yes?"
"What happens after one year?"
He was quiet for a moment.
"I don't know."
"The contract says divorce."
"Contracts can be broken."
"Can this one?"
He turned to face her. "Do you want it to be?"
Ava's heart pounded. "I don't know yet."
"Then we wait. Until you know."
---
That night, Ava lay in bed.
She was falling for him. Fast. Deep. Irreversible.
Across the hall, Alexander lay in his bed.
He was falling too.
---
The magazine came out the next week.
Ava and Alexander were on the cover.
The headline: "Billionaire's Bride: Love in the Penthouse"
The photos were beautiful. The kiss on the balcony was the centerfold.
Ava stared at the image. She looked happy. In love.
Was she in love?
She didn't know yet.
But she was close.
---
Claire called. "The issue is selling out. Everyone wants to know about you."
"What do I say?"
"Say it's real. Say you're happy."
"I am happy."
"Then say that."
---
The interviews continued.
More magazines. More TV shows. More questions.
"How did you know Alexander was the one?"
Ava looked at Alexander. He was watching her.
"He saw me. Not the version I show the world. The real me."
"And when did you know you loved him?"
Ava paused. "I'm still figuring that out."
The interviewer smiled. "Honest. I like that."
---
After the interview, Alexander walked her to her room.
"You handled that well."
"I told the truth."
"You don't know if you love me?"
She looked at him. "I know I care about you. I know I want to be with you. Love... love is bigger."
"Love is scary."
"Love is everything."
He kissed her forehead.
"Take your time. I'm not going anywhere."
---
That night, Ava wrote in her journal.
*"I don't know if I love him yet. But I'm close. So close.*
*He's patient. Kind. Broken. Beautiful.*
*I want to heal him. I want him to heal me.*
*Maybe love isn't a feeling. Maybe it's a choice.*
*And I'm choosing him."*
She closed the journal. Slept better than she had in weeks.
---
In the morning, Alexander knocked on her door.
"Breakfast?"
"Breakfast."
They walked to the dining room together.
His hand found hers.
She didn't pull away.
The walls were gone.
The future was uncertain.
But they would face it together.
- Writer
