My Ex Waited In Line For My Autograph

CHAPTER 11 - MODELS.

CLEO CLEMENTINE.

Business is business.

Pfft. Not this one. Definitely not this one.

Everything has officially gone wrong. Actually, everything has been going wrong ever since I met Runaway Bull.

My love of money might be the death of me, too. I heard I would get paid for the modelling gig, and the pay is marinatingly juicy. I found myself saying yes without thinking it through.

I mean, it’s not like I could say no when Manager Hayes walked up to me to ask if I wouldn’t mind being the model.

The pay just prompted my answer.

“Are you sure you are okay with this?" Manager Hayes asked to be sure.

I squinted my eyes, widening my grin. “Totally! Work is work."

I regret saying that. I had assumed it was just a romantic shoot; it can’t be that erotic or anything.

Lies. Big ass f*****g lies.

I’m seated on the lap of a man I assaulted by jerking him in the shirt, and robbed f*****g days ago.

I scolded him just yesterday and was shocked when I went out to see he had mopped the floor. I went a bit hard on him; I should have been nicer.

Actually, no. he deserved it for acting like a dramatic child.

A man who is literally my boss, housemate and worst enemy. I’m breathing down his neck!

What could possibly go wrong? Everything!

We already have this tension thingy going on when he locks eyes with me, and I can swear it’s hatred.

He hates me!

Yeah, and I really wonder why. I haven't done anything that bad now, have I? Well, unless embarrassing him a few times and scolding his ass.

Now this.

We are dressed in designer clothes prepared for the models. He is in a black suit, with the shirt buttons loosened down to his chest; I can see a bit of his milky skin and his ridiculously seductive chest hair like never before, and I am in a plain white open-back dress.

It's the first time I'm seeing him in a suit and his hair styled differently, instead of the professional, neatly styled, combed-back hairstyle that always brings out his sharp facial features; some hair is left to fall over his face, giving him this 'beautiful demon that came from hell to seduce and ruin your life with his look' look.

Right.

I think he's weirdly hot. With a face like this, he'd pass with flying colours if he chose modelling as a career.

But his personality… red flag. A waste of a fine face.

“Secretary Clementine, move closer!” the director says from where he’s seated behind the screen, while the photographer still stands in front of us without even raising the camera, as if telling us we’re not into character yet.

Perhaps they want to take over and model this shoot themselves. No?

“Secretary Clementine???"

“I'm trying my best!" I fire back.

I feel a rough hand going over my naked back, and I freeze, holding my breath. The hand reaches my waist and drags me closer.

I gasp, my eyes shaky and dancing through every corner of the room as if calling for help.

“Secretary Clementine, pretend he’s someone you love. Get into character!”

Someone I love, my ass. I hate this mother fucker.

I swallow hard for the umpteenth time, slamming my eyes shut.

It’s just for a few minutes. Let’s just do it. It’s work.

Slowly, I turn my eyes to face him, and we lock eyes, causing my throat to go dry immediately.

Because the tension is too unbearable for me, I try to look away, but he doesn’t let me. He takes his free hand to hold my jaw in place, while his other hand goes up to my back and draws circles on my sensitive skin.

But why? No one said anything about drawing circles on my naked back to me.

The skin on my back tingles, but I try to remain in character.

“Closer!” the director yells. “You don’t look in love enough.”

Well, because we’re not. f**k you, director.

I hope you die….. Okay, that sounds really mean. But I'm dying here myself, and the sick director seems to be enjoying it.

~

THEOPHILUS PRESCOTT.

The expression on Hamburger’s face is different from the one I've always seen. It’s a mix of fear, confusion, and ‘should I really be doing this?’

She has a lot of questions, and I can read them off her face.

I draw circles on her back when I feel like she's zoned out and no longer here with us.

She tenses on my lap, and I can swear she isn’t breathing.

Since it doesn’t look like she’s listening to the director at all, I have decided to take the law into my own hands and be done with this whole madness.

I pull her even closer, close enough that she almost falls on my face. She’s looking down at me, and I’m looking up at her, and I would so love to keep it that way (So the BUSINESS shoot can be over).

I use my other hand to keep her head in place by pinching her jaw a little.

She swallows hard.

“Arms around my shoulders, Hamburger,” I murmur close to her lips.

She doesn’t move; I’m pretty sure she zoned out again to cope with whatever is going on.

We can’t have that. I draw a rectangle on her back to bring her back to reality. Our reality. Making sure to make the drawing of the rectangle slow and frustrating.

She jerks on me. Good. Welcome back.

“Arms. Around. My. Shoulders,” I repeat. “Or you’re leaving my house, and I'm firing your ass.”

The threat works because slowly she wraps her arms around my neck.

“Pull on the hair at the back of my head, and lean in like you want to kiss me,” I blurt out.

Her eyes go wide; satisfying. This particular expression should just stay on her face. I had this same expression when she embarrassed me that night.

I can clearly see a reflection of me in her big brown puppy eyes, but what I can’t miss is how beautiful it is. Literally.

“Is this… a part of the script?” she whispers back.

Now who cares about that stupid script? I’m all in for passion and good work. Isn't that why I’m a C.E.O. at my age? Not to brag or anything. Fine, I'm bragging.

“I’m improvising,” I whisper back. “We have to look good for the investors, don’t you think? Now, do it; it's your job.”

Slowly, her hand slides up my neck, and she scoops a fistful of my hair gently, like she’s afraid to hurt me. The same person who literally ripped me apart because of one hamburger. And scolded me because there was a little mess of milk and coffee on the floor.

I almost slammed my eyes shut when the sensation hit.

Now, I did know this shoot was going to be sensitive because of the theme, but I didn't expect the sensation to hit this much.

It's definitely because of how much I hate her.

Not that I’m complaining; I undoubtedly wouldn’t mind if they made this longer and perhaps gave us a new, intense script; that way I can watch the horror on her face much longer.

It's like she's suffocating, and I like it. We should do this again.

“Harder,” I murmur, drawing a triangle on her back this time.

She yanks at my hair like she’s punishing me for controlling her with her own body, and a grin I don't expect lights up my face.

“Lean in,” I add, and she barely moves closer; she just shakes her ass on my lap, thinking I would fall for it.

“Closer,” I growl.

“We are close enough,” she fires back, her face turning pink in an instant.

I was sure I loved this version 2.0 of Hamburger, but now… I’m definitely sure. What can I do to make her look like this every day? Cheeks red, eyes wide, brows furrowed, eyelids fluttering, and heart pounding so fast I can hear and feel it so unmistakably like the s**t is pounding inside my own chest.

Or is it mine that's pounding?

Who cares at this point.

“If I do it myself, we might end up kissing, and I’m sure Hamburger doesn’t want that. Do you?”

She inhales sharply, and I make my grip on her waist firmer.

Not because I’m actually being possessive of her or anything; she’s just a stranger. An enemy, actually.

This is all because of the BUSINESS shoot. I’m trying to perfect it, and I’m obviously the only one putting effort into this modelling mission.

She leans in closer, and our lips brush, causing her to gasp against my mouth.

Her hot breath hits my lips, and this time I couldn’t stop myself from closing my eyes for whatever reason, and I almost let out a groan too, but I didn’t. I’m bigger than that.

I’m not that kind of person at all.

She tries to pull away, so I snap my eyes open.

“Don’t. You. Dare.”

We are finally in position. She ruins this, we begin again, and we can't have that.