Sophia

 

 

"The only thing I hate more than this is…" I tilt my head as I watch him intently. "I can't think of anything. I hate this more than anything else on the face of this earth."

He straightens, the black T-shirt he's wearing pulls taut over his muscular chest. My eyes scan his arms and the colorful tattoos that cover his skin. I checked out his website when I found out that I was going to meet him today. Noah Foster may be one of the most sought after photographers in the country, but he's also one of the most intimidating. It's not just that he's tall with broad shoulders. The jagged scar that covers his face tells a story that he's not willing to. He was hurt at some point, but that's not evident in the tone of his voice or the gentle way he's been guiding me.

"You'll survive, Sophia." He tosses me a smile from where he's standing three feet in front of me. "Try and loosen up. Think of something that makes you happy."

The only thing I've been able to think about since I walked into his studio is Nicholas. It's not just because I can't get my mind off the man. Nicholas owns a Noah Foster original photograph. I saw it hanging in the foyer of his apartment the first time I was there. It's a tasteful shot of a woman. Her face isn't visible, but the curves and contours of her nude body are. It's breathtaking.

"I used to follow your work," I say it before I realize that it's a backhanded compliment. "What I meant to say is that I always thought the photographs you took a few years ago were breathtaking."

The corner of his mouth twitches. "The photographs I take now are breathtaking too. It's just in a much different way."

I know he's right. All of the galleries on his website feature work he's completed recently. In addition to the gorgeous selection of portraits of notable New York residents, he has an entire online portfolio devoted to people in the city who don't have a home of their own. Those pictures, in particular, are filled with turbulent emotions. The joy mixed with sorrow in the faces of his subjects is mesmerizing.

"Gabriel told me you used to work for him." He fills the silence in this studio with his words. "What kind of a boss is my cousin?"

"He's the best," I say quietly.  "I learned a lot from him and now he's given me the chance of a lifetime."

"When he called to ask me to handle your portrait, I was honored." He points the camera in his hands at me before he looks through the viewfinder. "He doesn't usually handle stuff like that himself."
He's right. It's always been my job to book photo shoots for the designers that come on board. I've spoken to Noah's assistant more than once when I've reached out looking for an opening in his schedule so he could handle a portrait session. I never thought I'd be the one in front of his camera.

"He's always spoken very highly of you, Noah."

"Gabriel's one of the good ones." He snaps a picture. "This is a test shot so don't flip the fuck out."

I laugh aloud. I haven't tried to hide my nervous agitation. I don't like having my picture taken. I never have. I was the kid in grade school who would perfectly time a stomach ache so she could stay home in bed on photo day. I can't avoid this. The portrait Noah takes today is going to be included in all the promo material Foster Enterprises distributes during the pre-launch period for the Ella Kara collection.

"I'm not like the other people you photograph," I hesitate briefly. "I saw all the famous faces on your website."

"Do you know any of them?" He takes a series of pictures while I lean forward on the stool he sat me on when I arrived. He didn't let me fix my hair or my makeup. His assistant brushed a piece of lint from the front of the red dress I'm wearing before she took a seat at a small desk, her eyes trained to a laptop that instantly displays every picture he's taking.

"Nicholas Wolf," I say evenly. "I've met him."

"You've more than met him." He snaps another picture. I glance at his assistant's laptop screen to see if my mouth is hanging open the way I expect it to be. It's not.
"What's that supposed to mean?" My eyes narrow. I know for a fact that there was no inflection in my tone when I said the name of the man who singlehandedly tried to fuck up my entire life. Noah can't know anything unless Gabriel said something which is highly unlikely since Mr. Foster doesn’t discuss personal things very often. He hasn't mentioned Nicholas at all to me recently other than when he told me he fired Joe because he was the one who stole the book.

"Gabriel told me about you and Nick." Noah moves closer, the faint sound of the shutter of his camera fills the air as he rapidly takes one picture after another of my face. "He said you two were dating until recently. He's obsessed with Nick's books. When he found out I had photographed Nick last year for his book cover, Gabriel was pissed that I didn't ask for an autographed copy of Burden's Proof."

"He has one now." I sweep my hair from my forehead. "I feel like my hair is a mess. I think my headshot should be polished."

He reaches forward to move my hair back to where it was. "Your headshot should be reflective of who you are, Sophia. I'd say your hair is perfect."

I take it as a compliment because I just want this photo shoot to be over.

"Nick's a good guy." He takes half a step back. "When I first met him he asked about my wife. He wanted to know how I found someone in this city who didn't give a shit that I was the Noah Foster."

"He did?" I'm mildly surprised by that. I know that Nicholas had a reputation before we met. I also know that since we stopped seeing each other, it's highly likely that there are a few more of his books floating around Manhattan with lunch invitations written on the inside of the front cover. He seems like the type who would get over a woman in ten seconds flat.

"He did," he confirms. "You don't give a shit that he's Nicholas Wolf, do you?"

"I don't." I shake my head slowly.

"He's the one who fucked up what you two had going on. I know I'm right."

I smile and nod slowly. "You're right."

"He's an idiot." He lifts the camera up again to eye level. "You remind me a lot of my wife. You're genuine. You have an honest soul."

"That's quite the compliment." I don't know a lot about his wife, Alexa, other than what Gabriel has mentioned in passing. I know she's a teacher and just as devoted to her kids as she is to her husband.

"One day he'll realize that you're the one who got away. I fucked things up with Alexa once. By God's grace, I got her back and I can tell you that I'd eat glass for that woman. Nick will come around too."

I want to tell him that he's making assumptions he shouldn't, but I stop myself. I'm here for one reason and one reason only. I need a new portrait. I don't need to talk about Nicholas. He's my past and the portrait, and what it represents, is my future.