Marcus
Hailey Jason intrigues .
Not in the way most won do, of course. I’ve had plenty of those. The kind that look at with wide eyes, hoping to catch my attention, dreaming of covers and center spreads.
Disposable ambitions, all of them.
But Hailey is different. There’s a rawness to her work that can’t be taught. A perspective that cuts through the glossy artifice most photographers hide behind. She sees things—really sees them.
I lean back in my chair, reviewing the security footage from last night. The cara sweeps across the empty studio, shadows stretching like fingers across the concrete floor. Nothing seems unusual. Yet soone was here, taking those photos, watching us all.
I pause the tape, focusing on a flicker of movent near the equipnt room. There, a shadow moving where it shouldn’t be. I rewind, slow it down. The figure is careful, staying just out of the cara’s full view.
Amateur. If you’re going to break in sowhere, at least learn the blind spots first.
I snap a screenshot and zoom in, but the resolution blurs. All I can make out is a tall figure in dark clothing. Could be anyone—staff, cleaning crew, one of the models.
Or soone else entirely.
My phone buzzes with a ssage from Vivian.
"Client loves the preliminary shots. Especially the ones with the new male model. Who is he and where did you find him?"
I smirk. Josh Daniels. The wild card who showed up out of nowhere and sohow fit perfectly into our narrative. The chemistry between him and Hailey is undeniable—crackling through every fra. It’s rare to capture that kind of authentic tension.
Which makes the sabotage attempts all the more interesting.
Soone wants him gone badly enough to risk everything. But who? And why?
I scroll through the staff list, ntally crossing off nas. Most of these people have worked with for years. They know better than to ss with my shoots.
Unless it’s not about the shoot at all. Unless it’s sothing more personal.
The door opens without a knock, and I look up to see Tammy standing there, tablet in hand.
"You wanted the background checks?" she asks, her expression carefully neutral.
I nod. "All of them."
Her lips press into a thin line, but she nods. "Will there be anything else?"
"Yes. I want the security team doubled tonight. And I want eyes on Josh Daniels and Hailey Jason at all tis."
Tammy raises an eyebrow. "You think they are both in danger?"
I consider this. "I think soone’s playing a dangerous ga. And I don’t like gas I’m not controlling."
Tammy nods, though there’s a flicker of sothing in her eyes—concern, maybe. Or doubt. I can’t bla her. It’s not every day I go full paranoia and start issuing surveillance orders on my own staff.
Still, I didn’t get this far by being naïve.
"They won’t like it," she says carefully. "Hailey, especially."
"She doesn’t need to like it," I reply, cool and firm.
"Understood," Tammy says and turns.
"One more question," I ask, making her turn to again. "What’s going on between Josh and Hailey?"
Tammy raises an eyebrow. "What do you an?"
"What is the nature of their relationship? Is he her boyfriend?" I ask, unable to contain my curiosity.
Tammy groans. "Co on, Marcus. Don’t tell you are considering Hailey as your next target."
I grin and lie back on my chair. "Why not?"
"Because she’s not like your other bimbos," she says simply.
I tilt my head, amused. "Different in what way?"
"She is sharp. Grounded. She’s here to work, not to play your gas." Tammy crosses her arms. "She’ll make you bleed."
I chuckle under my breath. The idea of bleeding for a woman is ludicrous to . I’ve just always made sure I co out of these... get-togethers unhard. Nothing fatal. Nothing permanent.
But Hailey?
Hailey has the kind of edge that cuts before you even realize you’re bleeding. It’s in the way she looks at you...
I’ve built a reputation out of being untouchable, unshakeable. The puppeteer behind every lens, every smirk, every calculated move. I don’t get involved. I orchestrate. I command.
But sothing about Hailey disrupts the rhythm. And I don’t like being disrupted.
I stand, restless now, and pace toward the window.
A knock at the door.
I don’t answer. It opens anyway.
As soon as the door flies open, the scent of expensive perfu floats in. Floral. Too sweet.
"Marcus, you bastard!" cos the voice, high-pitched and angry.
I turn slowly, already bracing myself.
Standing in the doorway, stilettos planted like weapons, is Lena Vale.
Once the face of our fall campaign, Lena had the kind of beauty that sparked scandals and the kind of ego that lit them on fire. She’s dressed like she walked out of a fashion week finale, tight leather, oversized sunglasses, and a venomous pout.
"Lena," I say, voice flat. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"
"Don’t act coy with , Marcus. You know why I am here," she hisses.
"Actually, I don’t," I say.
"WHY DID YOU GHOST ?" she cries.
I let out a short breath of amusent, though there’s no humor in it. "Ghost you? Really, Lena? You make it sound like we were dating."
Her jaw clenches. "We were sothing."
"No," I say, moving behind my desk and sitting, calm and slow. "We were convenient. For a ti. Then you stopped being useful, and I stopped pretending."
The sting lands exactly where I intended it to. Her eyes narrow to slits, fury vibrating through every inch of her.
"You’re such a cold bastard," she spits. "I gave you everything, Marcus. My face. My body. My na. I made your campaign unforgettable!"
I lean back in my chair. "You posed. The photographer made it unforgettable. And you got what you wanted out of it. Money, fa, career. Not sure why you are acting like I used you."
Her nostrils flare, and for a mont I wonder if she’ll throw sothing. Her purse, maybe, or one of those spiked heels. Instead, she takes a slow step closer, teeth bared in a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.
"You think you’re so clever, don’t you?" she says, voice dropping into a cold purr. "So untouchable. But even kings bleed when they get sloppy."
I arch an eyebrow, unmoved. "Is that a threat, Lena? Because if it is, it’s a weak one."
Her facial expression softens. "I am not trying to threaten you, Marcus. I simply want us to start over. I think we would make a power couple."
I stare at her, montarily caught off guard by the shift. One second, she’s fire and claws ready to burn it all down, and the next, she’s purring proposals like we are characters in a glossy magazine spread.
"I told you this before, Lena. I don’t date and I don’t plan on dating or having any kind of relationships. Now if you will excuse , I have another eting in a few minutes," I say, offering her my most charming smile.
Her eyes flare with fury. "I’m not finished with you!"
"You’re wasting my ti," I say, cutting her off.
She lets out an explosive laugh, a bitter, hollow sound. "You’re pathetic. You think you’re so clever, but all you’re doing is digging your own grave. You’ll see. I’m done with you."
Lena grabs her oversized sunglasses off the desk and slams them onto her face with exaggerated force. "Have fun pretending you’re still in control, Marcus. But mark my words, you’re not. I’ll be the one laughing when your empire crumbles."
She turns on her heel and storms out, the door slamming so hard it rattles the walls.
I stare at the door, still and unblinking. Not the first ti I had to face a female’s wrath and won’t be the last.
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