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there were over two dozen emails from my office and a handful from my agent. I ignored them all,
typing up an email of my own. The Internet was patchy and probably wouldn’t send for a good few
hours, but I didn’t care. It would take a few emails to get this project under way, but I set the ball rolling, smiled as I slammed the laptop shut. My agent would be thrilled. She’d been pushing me in
the direction of holding another exclusive show, since my first and only show had become a runaway
hit.
That show, purely based on a series of photos I’d taken, had snowballed into a wild, insane
juggernaut, with awards, book deals and insane amounts of money thrown my way to add to the small
fortune I already had in the bank, guaranteeing I wouldn’t have to work another day in my life if I didn’t want to. It’d been more than a little disconcerting, truth be told. The only reason the furore had eventually died down several months later was because I’d taken an assignment to Papua New
Guinea, one I knew would last three months. My absence had done the trick of granting me a modicum
of privacy and normality.
The memory sobered me.
Was that what Graciela went through on a daily basis? As a child born into a powerful and
influential family, she’d been the cynosure of rabid, relentless interest probably before she could walk. My interaction with social media was selective, getting involved only where it pertained to my work, but technology made blaring headlines impossible to ignore. I knew the kind of hellish media
attention she and her family garnered, the kind of invasion of privacy that dogged her every waking hour.
She’d lived with it all her life, so was it any wonder she was wary and instantly suspicious of
anyone wielding a camera?
Would she think of my burgeoning idea in those terms?
No. This was different. It would be special. A celebration rather than an invasion. Hopefully a
prelude to...something else.
I drew back from putting a label on it, though the curious churning in my gut wanted to delve
headlong into dissecting just what it was I felt for her.
The last three days had been illuminating. I’d caught more frequent glimpses of the woman beneath
the powerful surname. Discovered her previous relationships had been just as ultimately unsatisfying as mine. That she hadn’t taken a submissive in a while. Selfishly, that’d pleased me. I wasn’t
magnanimous enough to be the kind of guy who made accommodation for other prospects when it
came to the woman I was interested in.
She had no entanglements in London. Or New York. Or wherever it was she was heading back to
once we left my cabin. As primitive as it sounded, I wanted to be the only man occupying her thoughts while she was with me.
And when she left? What then?
I clenched my fist at the hollow in my belly at the thought of it.
Yeah, I was dangerously straying into obsession. Had probably done so already. Yet the thought