Chapter 6

Demi

What in the name of all that was holy was I thinking when I signed that damn contract?

My palms were clammy as I wrapped them round the pole on the crowded subway. An assistant of Barrett’s had called first thing Monday morning and told me to be at a warehouse in Dumbo at ten o’clock sharp that Friday morning. She’d also spouted off a list of instructions that I hadn’t been able to understand and then slammed the phone in my ear.

So, there I was, heading to what was sure to be a disaster on my first day of my new job. It felt a little bit like a dream, being on my way to an honest to god photoshoot where I was to be the center of attention. If it hadn’t been for my parents’ situation, I never would’ve agreed to it. No matter how attracted I was to Barrett.

Sure, he’d been charming over dinner on Saturday, but he had way too many of the rich-bitch, playboy-type traits that I hated to consider him seriously. Although, I had been surprised and charmed by the way he talked about his niece. Especially by the way he’d stepped up and raised her without shoving her off on a nanny. It was impressive and so very unexpected from a man like him.

However, it didn’t mean that I could go as far as having drinks with the guy. One good deed on his part didn’t mean that his obsession with his wealth was any less than my parents’ had been. A glimmer of that obsession showed when one of the first things he told me was how lucrative his agency was. That world wasn’t for me. Not anymore.

I liked my job at the diner, so much that I hadn’t resigned yet. I asked Roy to reshuffle my shifts until I could figure my situation out.

A man trod on my toe in the crush of the subway and barely muttered his apologies before he was gone. It was enough to bring me back to the present and my senses.

Barrett Hart didn’t only belong to the world I worked every damn day to leave behind, but he was also about to be my boss. That put him firmly in the untouchable zone, as far as I was concerned. I gripped the smooth subway pole harder and tried my best to get my head back in the game when the conductor’s voice came over the speakers and told me that I’d reached my stop.

I emerged from the station into the newly trendy area where warehouses were all being converted into more modern spaces. I paused for a second to get my bearings. Had I not given up the life I had before, I probably would’ve been far more acquainted with the area, but since I did my best to block out the trends, along with my former fair-weather friends, I hadn’t really been here too often.

The nearer I got to the address Barrett’s assistant gave me, the more nervous I became. Thanks to being stuck in the middle of a mild panic attack for being afraid of backing out before I signed the contract, I still didn’t really know what my new job entailed. I just knew that I had to put my signature on the paper before I fled.

Though I didn’t see it, I often got told I was beautiful, but I knew that modeling wouldn’t be as easy as holding still and saying cheese for the camera. My worst fears were confirmed when I stepped into the chaos of the building I’d been given the address to.

I had no doubt this was the place, what with the floating cameras and people yelling instructions at beautiful girls dressed in, well, pretty much nothing. My nerves were threatening to cut off my air supply as I realized I had no idea where to go or who to report to. A tiny, elderly woman barking into a wireless headset approached me.

“Are you Demi Fowler?”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak with a lump the size of a grapefruit forming in my throat.

“You’re late,” she snapped. “They’re waiting for you in makeup.” She pointed me to bright lights at the far side of the warehouse.

A quick glance at my watch told me that I was five minutes early, but the woman’s severe bun and obsidian eyes allowed no room for argument. A few of the models hovering nearby caught my name and shot me concerning looks as I crossed the floor.

For some reason, I’d been expecting to be the only model here. I wasn’t. Not by long shot. And from the looks on their faces, I’d inadvertently stolen the top job they’d had their sights set on. I tried my best to look unaffected, until a deep voice spoke behind me, giving me shivers and causing a light smattering of goosebumps to rise on my skin.

“Demi, I’m so glad you made it,” Barrett told me. “Let me show you to hair and makeup.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, but he wasn’t listening. He was already talking rapidly about how busy our schedule was for the day.

“So, you have to meet Stefan, the photographer. He’ll give you an idea of his concept for the shoot when you’re done with prep. Then you’ll sit down with the marketing team and discuss the strategy going forward. After that, we’ll—”

“Hart, I need you,” a frazzled-looking man wearing horn-rimmed glasses called. “Stef’s threatening to walk because of the new software you’ve had installed.”

“Of course, he is,” Barrett muttered, dragging a hand over his five o’clock shadow of a beard. He met my eyes as he sat me down to be primped and prepped. “I have to go deal with this. Will you be okay?”

I glanced around at the other models who were studiously ignoring me and nodded slowly. “Of course, go do your thing.”

It was obvious to me that he’d worked hard to pull all the details for my being in the shoot together, even more so when a girl with shaved hair and piercings through everything I could see came up behind me. She had a curling iron in one hand and a wheeled trolley of what looked like an artist’s palette combined with medieval torture devices with her.

“I’m Stevie,” she said, draping a black cloth over my chest. “You’re Demi, the new face of BHA Models, I believe. Welcome to hell.”

With that comforting greeting and more than a few loathsome stares from the girls around me, Stevie got to work layering on more makeup than I’d ever worn in my life and styling my hair to within an inch of its life.

People blurred in the reflection of the mirror, passing by without so much as a greeting. I managed to catch a few of their bitter comments, all of which came down to the fact that they had more experience than I had and that I didn’t deserve to be hired for this position.

Stevie ignored the comments, so I followed suit, glaring haughtily straight into the mirror in front of me and trying not to wince as Stevie’s hands transformed me from ordinary Demi to Demi 2.0.

“She’s up,” a man with chestnut hair and a clipboard clamped to his chest yelled, craning his neck around the modest partition between the set and the prep area. “Better get into that dress before Stef finds another reason to walk.”

Leading me to hanging sheets that were the only private dressing area, Stevie nodded at it and waited until I was practically naked before sliding in behind me and handing me an indigo evening gown so beautiful it would make fairies cry.

“Strap in, sister,” she told me. “You’re barking with the big dogs now.”

I gulped and followed her orders.

A hush fell over the warehouse as I stepped out onto the set. The dress clung to me in all the right places. When the music started back up, someone yelled at me. “We’re doing backdrop shoots first.”

I froze, not sure where they wanted me to go. A couple of the other models had formed a loose circle behind a gigantic camera and were tittering at my inexperience.

“God,” I heard someone whisper. “She doesn’t even know what a backdrop is.”

I gritted my teeth, reminded myself of why I was there, and marched to an impatient-looking man with Italian features.

“Good,” he said. “That’s a start, at least.”

Then he turned to where Barrett had appeared close behind him. “She’s perfect but would it have killed you to find one with some experience?”

Barrett shrugged. “She’ll get the hang of it.”

The photographer started shouting directions, and soon, I could hear the frustration creeping into his voice. “She doesn’t know how to stand or how to pose. I might as well be taking pictures of a beautiful porcelain doll, Hart.”

That did it. I’d tried. For my parents’ sake and my own, but after two hours in sky-high heels and a never-ending parade of smirking, bitchy Barbie dolls commenting from the sidelines, I was done.

“Do you mind if we take a break?” I asked, already heading for an exit. As much as I hated to admit it, I was too demoralized to continue that day. I didn’t wait for them to answer before I threw open the door to the fire escape and drew in a few deep breaths.

“You okay?” Barrett asked, leaning against the door to the fire escape that I’d propped open. “I’m sorry. This is my fault. I should’ve realized how overwhelming it all could be and ordered a closed shoot.”

I pressed the heels of my palms to my eyes, not giving a damn if my makeup smudged. I turned away from him on the narrow steps of the fire escape. “I shouldn’t have signed your contract. I can’t do this. I’m so sorry for wasting your time.”

Barrett sucked in a deep breath. Then his hands were on my shoulders, warm, comforting, and sure. “You can do this, Demi. You’re not wasting my time. I was wasting yours.”

He turned briskly and bellowed from the doorway. “Everyone out. Only Stefan stays.”

No one breathed for a minute, then there was a low grumbling as they cleared out, no one daring to question Barrett’s command.

“See, I fixed it,” he said, still behind me. “Come back inside, Demi, and I’ll prove to you that you can do this.”

He held out a hand to me as I turned. I accepted it only because there was the slightest hint of vulnerability in his eyes when I met them. He led me back inside the newly-deserted warehouse where only one man was leaning over a laptop set up in the corner, muttering what I was sure were Italian curse words.

“Stefan,” Barrett said. “Come meet Demi properly.”

The man raised his head from the screen, sighed, then walked over to us. “My pleasure, bellissima.”

Stefan grasped my hand and raised it to brush his lips against the skin on the back of my hand.

“Nice to meet you, too,” I responded, still sure that I was going to be a great disappointment to them both.

“Now, Demi,” Barrett said. “Forget about the camera. Do what you would do if you were at home on a Friday night, talking to a friend.”

I wasn’t sure about this, but he was the expert, so I followed his instructions.

Barrett moved so that I was slightly facing the light streaming in from the top windows of the warehouse to keep him in my sights. “Have I told you about the time Nancie was twelve and insisted that she needed money so our chef could take her grocery shopping?”

Despite the tenseness of the day, I found myself immersed in his story, clapping my hands together and howling with laughter when it turned out that his niece had needed the money to buy her first bra. Though I was sure he would never admit it, his cheeks were slightly flushed, and the tips of his ears showed evidence of being either exhilarated or humiliated by sharing so much of his life as the shoot wore on.

Under his expert guidance, I relaxed and started having fun when he began suggesting poses. By the end of the shoot, moody Stefan—as I’d dubbed him in my head—was beaming at me and muttering to himself in Italian.

“Thank you, Barrett,” I said, once I’d changed back into my yoga pants and tank top. “You really saved me there.”

“Is that a thanks from ‘Ms. Enjoy-Your-Burger’?” he teased lightly.

I deserved for him to give me a bit of a hard time, though, after the way I’d treated him, so I didn’t tease him back.

“It is,” I said sincerely.

“Well, in that case, it was my pleasure. See you next week, Demi.” He grinned warmly, a welcome surprise from his usual confident smirk.

“See you next week, Barrett,” I replied, fighting back a smile as I tucked my hair behind my ear and headed toward the subway station.