I reigned in my shameless lust and spent the next hour coaxing him out of his shell, moving him into various poses, and encouraging him to relax.
I wasn’t sure Alex understood the meaning of the word.
The pictures so far were beautiful, but they lacked emotion. Without emotion, a beautiful photo is just a photo.
I attempted to open him up with chitchat, talking to him about everything from the weather to Josh’s latest update to that day’s news, but he remained aloof and guarded.
I tried a different tactic. “Tell me about your happiest memory.”
Alex’s lips thinned. “I thought this was a photoshoot, not a therapy session.”
“If it were a therapy session, I’d be charging you five hundred dollars an hour,” I quipped.
“You have an inflated sense of your worth as a therapist.”
“If you can’t afford me, just say so.” I snapped more pictures. Finally. A sign of life.
The click and whir of the shutter filled the air.
“Sweetheart, I could get you with a snap of my fingers, and I wouldn’t have to shell out a single penny.”
I lowered my camera and glared at him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
A tiny smirk tugged at the corner of Alex’s mouth. “It means you want me. You wear your emotions all over your face.”
My thighs clenched, and my skin burned until I thought I’d collapse into a pile of ashes on the ground.
“Now who’s the one with an inflated sense of self-worth?” I managed, my heart racing. Alex had never said anything so direct to me before. He usually shut down any hint of attraction between us, but here he was, talking about me wanting him.
He was right, but still.
Alex leaned forward and clasped his hands loosely together. Graceful, casual but alert. Waiting to lure me into his trap.
“Tell me it’s not true.”
I licked my lips again, my throat parched, and his gaze zeroed in on my mouth. The small but unmistakable movement bolstered my confidence and compelled me to say something I would’ve never had the guts to say otherwise. “It’s true.” I almost smiled at the flare of surprise in his eyes. He hadn’t expected honesty. “But you want me too. Question is, are you too scared to admit it?”
Alex’s thick, dark brows lowered. “I’m not scared of anything.”
Lies. I would’ve believed him a month ago, but now I knew better. Everyone fears something; it’s what makes us human. And Alex Volkov—for all his control, all his power—was still wonderfully, frighteningly, heartbreakingly human.
“That doesn’t answer my question.” I walked over to him, my camera swaying from the strap looped around my neck. He didn’t move an inch, not even when I brushed my fingers along his jaw. “Admit you want me, too.”
I wasn’t sure where my boldness came from. I wasn’t Jules. I always waited for the guy to ask me out—partly out of fear of rejection, partly because I was too shy to make the first move.
But I had a feeling if I waited for Alex, I might have to wait forever.
It was time to take matters into my own hands
“If I wanted you, I would’ve taken you already,” Alex said with lethal softness.
“Unless you’re too scared.”
I was playing with fire, but that was better than standing out in the cold alone.
I stiffened when Alex trailed his fingers down my neck and over my shoulder. His lips curved into a smirk. “Nervous? I thought this was what you wanted,” he taunted. His hand dipped lower, closer to the curve of my breast. The ice pools in his eyes melted, revealing a blazing inferno that heated me from head to toe.
My head spun. My nipples tightened into firm beads, and my pulse throbbed through every inch of my body. Somehow, it was worse that he wasn’t touching me where I ached most; the anticipation heightened my senses, and my skin tingled with phantom caresses.
“That’s not what I said,” I wheezed. Oh God, this was embarrassing. What had I been thinking? I wasn’t a femme fatale or a…a…whatever else was like a femme fatale.
I couldn’t think straight.
Alex grazed his thumb over my breast, and I moaned. Moaned. From a touch that lasted less than two seconds.
I wanted to die.
His pupils dilated until the green irises were eclipses ringed with jade fire. He dropped his hand, and cool air rushed in to replace the warmth of his touch.
“Finish the photoshoot, Ava.” The roughness of his voice scraped against my skin.
“What?” I was too shocked by the sudden change in the atmosphere to process his words.
“The photoshoot. Finish it,” he gritted out. “Unless you want to start something you’re not ready to finish.”
“I—” The photoshoot. Right.
I backed away on unsteady legs and tried to refocus on the task at hand. Alex sat straight-backed, his face hard, while I circled him and captured every angle I could think of.
The low hum of the heater was the only sound breaking the silence.
“Okay. We’re done,” I said after twenty minutes of excruciating quiet. “Thanks—”
Alex stood, grabbed his coat, and walked out without another word.
“For doing this,” I finished, my words echoing in the empty room.
I exhaled a long-held breath. Alex was the most mercurial person I knew. One minute, he was gentle and protective; the next, he was closed-off and distant.
I scrolled through the photos, curious as to how they’d turned out.
Oh. Wow. Alex’s emotions leaped off the screen after our…interaction, and yes, most of it was irritation, but irritation on him looked better than contentment on anyone else. The way the shadows hit the sharp lines of his brows, the glare of his eyes, the set of his jaw…these were possibly the best photos I’d ever taken.
I paused at one of the last shots, and my heart stuttered to a stop.
I’d been so busy snapping away I hadn’t paid attention in the moment, but now I saw it clear as day. Stark desire scrawled across Alex’s face as he stared at me, his eyes burning through the camera and straight into my soul. It was the only photo where he wore that expression, so it must’ve been a momentary slip on his part.
A stripping of his mask, if only for a few seconds.
But here’s the thing: even a few seconds can change someone’s life. And as I turned off the camera and packed up my equipment with shaky hands, I couldn’t shake the feeling that mine had been altered forever.
16
Alex
“It’ll be over in a few months.” I leaned back in my chair and rolled my whiskey glass in my hands, watching dust mites dance in the air before me.
“Hmmm.” My uncle rubbed his jaw, his eyes sharp as he examined me through the screen. I’d turned the guest room into my home office, as I preferred to work from home on the days I didn’t have to be in the office. Fewer tiresome interactions that way. “You don’t seem excited for someone who’s been working toward this since you were ten.”
“Excitement is overrated. All I care about is that it’ll be done.”
Despite my words, my chest pinched, because my uncle was right. I should feel excited. Vengeance was so close I could taste it, but instead of sweet relief, it coated my tongue with bitterness and turned my stomach sour.