“I suggest you get in there and put this on, Adriana. Daniel is setting things up in the studio.” I really don’t love Heidi anymore. In fact, she downright angers me. No, that’s far from the truth. I love her more than I ever have before.

It took her less than five minutes after Blake left for her to be right back by my side, holding me for the longest time once again. She didn’t ask what we talked about; she didn’t bring up the file. She simply took me in her arms until I stopped crying. Then she made me get up, warmed my soup, and stood by me while I ate. She held me while I apologized for being rude to her. Lay with me until I fell asleep. Both she and Daniel are the last people on this earth I would ever intentionally hurt.

Heidi stormed into my room the next morning at the crack of dawn, opened my blinds, and told me we were going to work. That she had called her mother to manage the bakery and she and Daniel were staying for a while. I didn’t argue then, and I’m not going to argue now. I have a business to run. A life to live. And a damn file to look at. In that order.

I know I’m a lot stronger than I give myself credit for, too. Sometimes weakness tries to color strength out with a big black crayon that seems to grow bigger rather than smaller. I’ve let it long enough. I have every intention of sitting down and looking over that haunting file tonight.

“Fine. When I’m poor and have to move in with you and Daniel, I’ll drive you both bat shit crazy the same way you’re driving me insane.” I snatch the corset from her hands, lock the door to the store, and make my way to the back of the studio. I pause for several seconds as I watch Daniel adjust the bed and pick up my camera. I’ve been putting designing my site off until the last minute, thinking I might be one of those people who slips through the cracks of finalizing her website. That’s all I’ve been doing these past few days, trying to put the finishing touches on the thing. Then all of a sudden, Daniel makes a suggestion, and these two take off with it like I have no say at all. When life slaps you in the face, you punch the bitch back harder, kick it in the balls, then focus on the hand you punched it with. That hand will guide you anywhere, I hear my grandmother’s words. I smirk knowing she’s never far from my mind.

I wonder if it will guide me toward the courage I need to call Hunter and apologize for the way I treated him. I had three missed phone calls from him when I decided to turn my phone back on after seeing Blake the other day. He’d left messages telling me we needed to talk about things. I feel awful for the way I talked to him. Surely, he has to understand what I’m feeling. That was three days ago. Three long days with little sleep and a mind that won’t shut off.

“I need about a half hour. Don’t drop that, or I’m taking it out of your pay,” I tease Daniel. Well, sort of tease when he looks up after seeing me standing there. That lens holds more value to me than anything I own. It’s the one Blake replaced.

“I know what this means to you, Adriana. Get on with yourself, and while you’re back there, you may as well give me my holiday bonus check now. Those bras in the front window are going to bring you in all kinds of money. Seriously, though, I think this will be good for you. Get your mind off things for a bit. Help you focus on the important stuff. Besides, you know I’m damn good at using this thing.” His joking brings out a smile in me. It’s the first one I’ve allowed to escape in over a week. The first genuine one in a long time, because we all know the man is horrible behind the lens. Heidi is ten times worse. And Jenny, well, she may be good at answering the phone, selling my lingerie like crazy to the last-minute shoppers, but she wants nothing to do with taking a picture of her boss half-naked. She’s not the only one. I don’t want to be the half-naked boss either.

As I stare at the lights hanging over the bed and take in the seductive atmosphere, I will admit I’m rather excited.

It was Heidi’s idea for Daniel to take the pictures. They both jumped on it, stating it would cheer me up, expressed how they thought it was a great idea that I was on the homepage of The Boudoir’s website. I told them to fuck off at first, but the more they went on about it, the more I told myself I needed to stop sitting at home staring at the file I refused to open, so I agreed. I came to work to finish some behind-the-scenes things, while the three of them maintained the store. I can’t allow someone else to work for me anymore. This is my job, my life, and I should be here.

I make my way back to the dressing room, close the door behind me, and toss the garment on the couch. I haven’t even looked at what she grabbed for me. It better cover everything up, or I'll decide on something myself. I inhale, rub my temples to try and ease away some of my tension, and take a seat in front of the mirror.

“You look like death,” I say to my image, grab the concealer, and start to work on my face. My mind starts roaming again. Honestly, it hasn’t stopped. How can it when all I can think about is him and the way his brief touch on my shoulder prickled my skin? The way he looked standing in the doorway to my bedroom. Sexy and alive. Handsome and here. In this town. Unbelievable.

To say I was shocked to see his intense gaze reflected in the window would be a lie. To say I haven’t wanted to pick up the file would be an even bigger one. To say I didn’t want him to crawl into my bed and hold me would be the biggest one of them all.

He looks the same. Those inescapable eyes of his were drawing me in. I hated him at that moment. The way he stood there trying to dissect me while I wanted to reach out and touch him. To take his hand in mine and hold it to my chest, for him to read my thoughts. To understand what I’m going through and to hear his reason why.

Even though, I pleaded with him to leave. I could tell he was holding back from pulling me into his arms. The muscles ticking away under his smoothly-shaven face gave it away. His signature sign when he’s struggling not to do something he wants to do. He hid that sign well when he deceived me years ago, and the deceiving alone is the hardest part for me to swallow.

The brute force of his body underneath his coat had my head swaying. His hair is still thick with a heavy wave. Legs long and lean. My husband is an incredibly sexy man. All dark and broody. Mysterious on the outside, kind and gentle on the inside; until he came to bed. In the bedroom, he was an entirely different man, and I wanted him. I wanted him to stay when I asked him to go. I wanted him to keep his hands on me when I asked him not to. I wanted and wanted. I still do, and I have yet to find out why he did what he did.

He stood there with his hands shoved in his pockets, looking at me as if he couldn’t believe I wasn’t a dream. I’m overjoyed he’s alive. It takes a huge part of my guilt away. It made me stop resenting the fact that my heart was beating while his was not. Although it doesn’t do a damn bit of good with everything else stemming its way through me.

All the hurt and pain. The misleading. The lack of trust. It’s gone, and I haven’t the slightest clue of what to do or where to go from here.

He has taken very good care of himself when he should have been taking care of me. I’m selfish, inconsiderate when it comes to what he’s probably been through. I don’t care. I’m so tired of doing what’s expected of me that I want to disappear. Run off the way he did, so that no one can ever find me. Then again, I won’t; because if I do, I won't keep my promise to my grandmother. I wouldn’t do her proud.

I block him out of my head as I paint my face with makeup in an attempt to cover up the hidden sadness behind my eyes. They shine brightly now. Smokey. Sexy. My lips are painted with a bright stain of red. I’ve never done anything like this before. What possessed me to agree to it in the first place is beyond me now that I’m sitting here looking at myself. Maybe my subconscious is telling me I need to do this for me. Whatever it is, I stand, shimmy out of my clothes, and grab the corset.

My hands shake profusely; my eyes go wide when I hold it up to my naked body. “Don’t even think about it. Put it on.” Heidi whips open the door. I don’t even bother covering myself up; she’s seen me naked plenty of times before.

“Where did you get this?” I shake the piece of material in her face. I never got the chance to wear this. It was the one Blake was holding in his hand on our anniversary the day Alexis screwed up our weekend.

“In the back of your closet. That color looks good on you. Why?” She doesn’t know. Of course, she doesn’t. I kept that memory locked away.

“Blake took this from the store. He gave it to me shortly before…” I can’t get myself to say it. He’s been dead in my mind for a long time, and now he isn’t dead at all.

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry. Do you want me to get something else?” She feels awful. I can see it, and it makes me incredibly sad that I’m putting her through hell right along with me. She doesn’t deserve this.

“No. I’ll wear it. It’s time to put on my big girl garments, so to speak.” I laugh at my stupid joke before I turn my back on her and place my feet into the corset, wiggle my hips, and pull the tight, silky material over my thighs and breasts. It hurts more than I care to admit that I was never able to wear this for him. For me to see his expression. Blake loved devouring me with those tantalizing eyes before he slowly peeled away the lingerie I had on. Good Lord, that man had a way with his hands. I need to stop.

“Damn. I can see why he wanted it. You look sexy as hell!” she expresses as she stands in front of me and draws the strings up tight, tying them together. She pushes my breasts up more, revealing entirely too much cleavage, and grips my shoulders. Her face turns from playful to serious.

“I know this is hard on you. What you’re doing is a step in the right direction. I think this will be wonderful, for you to be in front of the camera for once. Let your mind go and enjoy this. Do something for yourself. Everything else can wait. Okay?” I’m in awe of my strong friend who has everything she’s ever wanted. A mother who will help her out. A husband who adores her. Her eyes fill with tears, and my ability to see hazes over. I refuse to cry over this anymore. At least for the half hour or so the shoot will take. This is the most spontaneous thing I’ve done. I’m not going to let the dark cloud hanging over me ruin it. This is for me and my career. It’s the only thing I have control over in my life right now, and if everyone around me thinks it’s a good idea for me to pose, then I’m going to do it. Not for them but for me. I wish Blake could see me now. No, I really don’t want him to see me in this.

“It’s a good thing my wife is here. Fucking hell, Adriana.” I roll my eyes at Daniel’s comment, while Heidi just laughs as if this is an everyday occurrence for her. Makes me envy her more that they have such a tight bond of trust. That trust doesn’t have a thing to do with me prancing around half-naked in front of Daniel. Their connection reminds me of what I lost. What I thought I had.

I'm not used to this at all. Being a woman behind the lens is entirely different than being in front of one. I push back my shoulders, crawl up the bed, and tell myself to relax like I do my models and quit feeling sorry for myself. I’m strong. This is a piece of cake.

“It’s a good thing I trust you with my camera.” Daniel has no idea what he’s doing. I mean, he’s used a camera before, but nothing like this. Before we closed up, I adjusted the lighting, told him where to put the bed, where to stand, and for neither one of them to say a word to make me laugh. I also told him he had thirty minutes to capture a good photo. If he didn’t, he was fired.

“This is strange,” I say as I lie on my back, bring one leg over the other, and twist my torso slightly. I ruffle my hair until it spreads out all around me, close my eyes when the lights dim, and arch a little. I keep them closed for several clicks of the camera, my mind adjusting to the mood so I can be done with this. I twist and turn. My eyes are looking everywhere except at the camera. I’m afraid I’ll bust out laughing if I do. I train my mind to become sexy, secretive, and seductive. Spreading my legs, hands over my breasts, biting my bottom lip, and tossing my head back as if I were in the throes of ecstasy. With Blake. I think of him and how his hands felt, his moans, the way he would demand me to touch myself. I carry on until I feel as if his eyes are on me. I need to hurry up and get this over with, or I’m going to turn into a puddle.

“Let’s try a few this way, and then we’re done. Stand a couple feet straight out from me. I’m sure you’ll have one after this that we can use,” I mutter. Skin flush, voice full of lust, I flip around until my head is butted up to the edge of the bed and tilt my head back, letting my hair cascade down behind me. Once again, I close my eyes for several clicks. I feel incredibly sexy and turned on from my thoughts.

“Wow, Daniel. I’m impressed. You’re following orders. Heidi has you trained well,” I joke, bring my legs up, and press my palms on the inside of my thighs, my back arching to show off a little more cleavage. I can hear the clicks going off one right after the other. This pose has got to be it.

“Okay, that’s enough. I’m done. You better pray you have at least one good shot. I’m not doing that again. May I see them?” I ask, open my eyes, and my relaxed body goes rigid.

“I don’t think we’ve captured the right one.” Oh, God. That voice. Deep and seductive. The bed dips. Blake’s tall frame hovers over me as he hides behind my lens, continuing to click away. I’m utterly embarrassed, extremely pissed off, and turned on all at the same damn time.

I don’t want him taking photos of me. I don’t want him anywhere near me. And yet I don’t move. I don’t blink. I don’t swallow. The only thing moving is the rise and fall of my aching chest.

“One more,” Blake says, his voice so damn dark and sexy that my core flutters along with my heart. I’m going to choke my friends for this. I take that back; they’re not my friends anymore. I’ll be a lonely lady devoted to her job, and I’ll buy a dog. Dogs are loyal. They don’t pull you tight then give you slack. They don’t push you headfirst into the deep end when you can’t swim. And they definitely don’t trick you into having your husband taking pictures of you on a bed. Especially when you're wearing something he loved and your emotions are still trying to overcome the fact he isn’t dead.

“Give me that and get the hell out,” I scream. I push myself up and reach for my camera. He tosses it on the bed, pushes me down, and straddles me. His hard erection is pressing against my stomach. I shiver. My body is betraying me. I’m absolutely ashamed that my head is screaming in glory for him to bend down and kiss me, to feel his lips move against mine while our tongues explore. Taste and consume, devour each other.

Blake is as real as the stifling air in here. My husband is on top me, daring me to make a move. His lips part, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. I’ve wanted that tongue on me everywhere. I’ve dreamed of it, craved it so many times that I’ve woken up to touch myself.

“Blake, please,” I beg, not even knowing what I’m begging for. My breasts ache. I clench my knotted stomach to stop the desire coursing through me. It’s on a mad dash to settle in my core. There’s so much chaos inside of me that I’m having a hard time breathing while my heart is trying to pound its way out of my chest.

His fingers lace through mine. Slowly, he lifts them beside my head. He doesn’t say a word. He simply stares at my face. My mouth, my neck, my chest, and our entwined hands. This is too much, too real. I’m frightened out of my head right now.

“Fuck. I knew this would look stunning on you. God. You’re exquisite,” he growls, circles his hips, his stiff, hard cock tempting me. My nerves are frayed and worn. Anger surfaces. I’m so pissed off at the world that I could kill this man for real. “How dare you do this, Blake? Is this some kind of joke to you? Get the hell off me,” I yell. This is a nightmare. A complete disaster. This is not a game. This is my heart everyone is playing with, and they keep on slicing me open.

“This is far from a joke, Adriana. It’s been over a week. One fucking week since Hunter told you, and you haven’t done a thing to try and talk to me. You don’t want to look at the file, then you give me no other choice but to make you listen to me.” Our gazes stay locked. Now that my mind is clear of the initial shock of seeing him again, I become lost in a deep blue set of eyes that are trying to tell me a sad story. One of suffering and years of mental draining. I’m not sure what he sees reflecting back at him from me. I shouldn’t care one way or the other, except I do. I’ve loved this man long enough that even when I thought he was dead, I couldn’t let him go. I’m surrendering with every soul-shattering breath I take.

“I’m terrified,” I whimper on a fatigued exhale. I’m so tired of flopping back and forth from wanting to get in my car and find him to curling up in a ball and sinking farther into myself. I’m scared of what I’ll find out if I read all those papers. One minute I’m afraid I’ve fallen in love with a criminal, and the next I’m angry because the part of me who loves him doesn’t believe he is one. I don’t know what direction I’m supposed to run to anymore.

I see the struggle in his features before he exhales and drops his forehead to mine. “I am, too. I can’t go on like this, Adriana. I might have been alive all this time, but I’ve died a little more each day that I’ve spent without you. You have to let me explain. The decisions you make after you hear me out are up to you. I only hope you make the one that includes me in your life. Don’t be pissed off at Heidi and Daniel. Today was my idea. When I called Heidi to check on you, she told me you came back to work and you were trying to fake your way through this the same way you’ve been doing for years. We strummed up this idea for me. I want these pictures. They’re mine. You are mine. I convinced them to let me do it. We have to talk. I can’t be without you anymore.”

A lot of words were spoken there. The only ones I’m hearing are ‘pictures,’ ‘mine,’ and ‘explain.’

His warm breath prickles my skin. I’ve missed the deep way he says my name. The destructive way it would rattle my common sense, flare an eruption in my body that hasn’t sparked since him. Since he last touched me.

He lets go of my hands, and I draw them up to cover my face. The tears drip through the gaps between my fingers. I don’t know if I can bear for him to explain.

“I’ll look at the file tonight.”