Page 11 of Edge of Heaven (Crimson Edge #2)

Taryn

Photo shoots for catalogues can be a slog.

Wardrobe changes, hair and makeup touchups, and then a thousand shots in each outfit.

Today we started with lingerie.

I don’t mind wearing skimpy outfits, but it’s freezing in here and I’m not getting much coverage from the leather bra and thong panty set or the miniscule black corseted teddy.

There were also thigh-high fishnet stockings with skull clips on the garters, a hot-pink bikini that barely covered my nipples, and heels so high I almost toppled over.

If I wasn’t cold, it wouldn’t be a big deal because the pay is good and everyone is nice.

Professional, communicative, and respectful of physical boundaries.

No one else is in the room while we’re shooting other than the photographer—who happens to be a woman—and the stylist. So I’m not uncomfortable or worried about my safety.

I’m just fucking freezing.

“You’re covered in goose bumps,” the photographer, Linda, says after about three hours. “So much so I can see it on the shots. Let’s take a break and see if we can raise the temperature in here.”

“That would be great,” I say gratefully, pulling on the robe the stylist hands me.

“We’re almost done with this part,” Linda says. “After lunch, we’re going into jeans, leather jackets, and a few dresses. They’re still skimpy but not like this stuff.”

“No worries. It’s just so cold in here.”

“Agreed.” Linda types something on her phone. “I just reached out to Hettie.”

Hettie owns the clothing line and has been in and out all morning, mostly staying out of our way but keeping an eye on things.

“Fuck, why didn’t you say anything?” Hettie comes in with a horrified look on her face. “I’m so sorry, Taryn! I’m turning up the thermostat now. Usually it’s hot as balls when we’re shooting because of the lights and stuff. That’s probably why we turned down the temp, but I’ll turn it up now.”

“Thank you.”

“You hungry or anything?”

I shake my head. “I don’t want to eat until we’re done for the day.”

“We have two more outfits with you alone, and then we’re going to pair you with Mick, if that’s okay? You guys are friends, right?”

I nod. “Yes. We actually met the last time we worked together.”

“I remember.” Hettie grins. “And honestly, I would have used him again, but he made it seem like he wasn’t really interested in modeling.”

“I don’t think he is, in general, but who can say no to a paycheck for one day of work?”

She laughs. “Agreed.”

We finish up the lingerie photos—and it does warm up a little—and then I head back to the dressing room to change into jeans, a halter top, and a leather jacket. And another pair of ridiculously high heels.

“Hey, Hettie—these heels are ridiculous,” I say. “Do you sell them in the store or on the website?”

She shakes her head. “No, but we thought bare feet would look weird in the catalog.”

“For sure, but why heels this high? I’m five nine—these are at least five inches. I think a regular three-inch stiletto would still project the same vibe without me feeling like I’m going to fall over every time I take a step.”

She looks down at my feet and studies them for a few seconds.

“I honestly didn’t give it any thought,” she admits. “It’s just an embellishment, from the perspective of our sales, so it didn’t occur to me you’d be so uncomfortable.”

“And that says something,” I add. “Because I wear heels pretty much every day of my life. For me to be uncomfortable means they’re just too high.”

“You’re right. I don’t know what else we have for you, though.”

“Let me look in the stock room,” the stylist says. “You’re a size eight, right?”

I nod.

“I’ll be right back.”

I sink into a chair and pick up my phone.

There are a handful of texts from Callum.

That’s never good.

CALLUM: Hope you’re having fun without me—because I’m having fun without you.

And there’s a picture attached of a blonde on her knees in front of him, sucking him off.

Gross.

I fight back the torrent of emotions ripping through me.

I have to focus on work.

I don’t care who he fools around with as long as he keeps paying for Toby’s treatment.

But it makes me feel so fucking cheap. Used.

Like some kind of prostitute.

Shame washes over me, and tears prick my eyelids.

I squeeze my eyes shut, willing away the tears.

“Hey…you okay?” The soft voice matches the gentle touch on my shoulder, and I jump, quickly turning my phone over.

“Hi.” I manage a wobbly smile, but Mick doesn’t seem convinced.

“Are you crying?” he asks, worry etched into the features of his handsome face.

“No. Just an argument with Callum. He’s mad that I’m gone.”

“You’re working,” he says needlessly.

“He doesn’t care about that.”

I can see his jaw working, like he really wants to lay into Callum.

How can I blame him? I want to rip Callum a new one too.

Daily .

“Okay, you two, let’s do this.” Linda comes back into the room, the stylist trailing behind her.

“Look what I found!” she calls out happily. “They’re a seven-and-a-half, but they’re open toe, so you might be able to get into these.” She proffers a pair of black, peep-toe pumps with a much more reasonable heel.

“Thanks,” I say, sliding my feet into them. They’re a little snug, but I can manage. It’s not like I’m doing much walking. We’re just going to stand and pose.

I stand up and take off the robe, revealing the skimpy red leather dress that laces up both sides and barely covers my bottom.

It’s a rock and roll themed clothing line, so everything is a little over the top but Callum’s text left me feeling vulnerable, and I’m suddenly anxious for the shoot to be over.

I’m tired, stressed, worried about Toby, and lonelier than I’ve ever been in my life.

“Smile, beautiful,” Mick murmurs in my ear. “Just a few more hours and then you can be as emotional as you need to be.”

“Thanks.” I give him an appreciative smile and then dig deep, putting on my most professional face. I turn toward the camera, angle my head, and toss my hair.

“Oh, that’s pretty,” Linda calls out. “Mick, put a hand on her hip. I want you to gaze down at her like she’s the woman of your dreams.”

“Okay.” He does as she asks, and Linda takes a bunch of pictures.

She positions him against a wall, where he bends one knee and plants that foot against the wall. He’s wearing black jeans with faux paint splatters on them, no shirt, and a black denim jacket with studs on the shoulders. He looks dark and edgy—the opposite of who he really is—but it’s sexy as hell.

“Taryn, put your hand on your hip and look away…”

The shoot goes on for an hour or so, but working with Mick is seamless. Easy. Like we’ve been doing this forever.

I forget about Callum and the blonde, my worries about Toby’s health, and everything else as we fall into an easy pattern, both of us taking direction from Linda effortlessly.

“You guys are so hot together,” Hettie murmurs when we finally break.

I go into the dressing room to change into a denim miniskirt that has lightning bolts all over it.

It’s paired with a corset-style top and fishnets.

This is the last outfit of the day, and I’m ready to go.

I’m hungry and still a little cold, and I’m looking forward to curling up in my hotel room and ordering room service.

“Taryn.” Hettie comes into the dressing room. “I have a proposal for you.”

“Sure.” I glance up curiously.

“How would you feel about becoming the face of Rock Vibe?”

I cock my head. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” she admits. “My advertising agency has been bugging me to do actual ads—not just the quarterly catalogs—but ads that we can use not just in the store, but on billboards and magazines all over the country. Social media. All of it. I’ve been reluctant to take that leap because it’s expensive, but it might be time to level up.

And now that I’ve been reminded how beautiful you are, as well as your work ethic, I think I want to do this. ”

“I…” I’m a little speechless.

This is amazing news, but it’s also stressful because Callum won’t like it if I have to be away more often.

“There’s a catch, though,” she continues. “I can’t pay you what you might make doing the same thing for other clothing lines. I’m not Michael Kors or someone like that. My clothes are geared toward a very specific clientele that isn’t mainstream. We’re doing well but we’re in a growth phase.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning, we’re making money because we’re spending money and at the moment, we’re spending it as fast as we make it. I haven’t taken a salary yet this year.”

“I see.”

“So I have a proposition for you. What would you think about a ten percent stake in the company instead of cash?”

I stare at her.

That’s definitely not the norm.

“I know it’s not ideal, but I can have my accountant send you financials, along with our expected growth. You can have your people look at them and see what you think.”

My people.

Like I have people.

I have an agent. Period. I don’t need an accountant because I don’t make enough money for it to be worthwhile. As far as legalities, I trust my agent to make sure any contracts I sign are good for me, and that’s as far as I go. But it probably isn’t smart to tell her all of that.

She misunderstands my hesitation and continues before I can reply. “I totally understand if it’s not a risk you can take—you probably have bills to pay now, and not in a year’s time or whatever. So my feelings won’t be hurt if you say no.”

“My son is sick,” I blurt quietly. “He’s nine. He has leukemia. No one knows I have a kid—my agent thinks it’s better not to advertise that—so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone. But he’s the only reason why I’m hesitating.”

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.” She squeezes my shoulder. “And of course I won’t say anything.”

“So let me think about it, okay? I need to figure out some upcoming bills and what I’m going to do next. I don’t have any other work lined up right now…”

“That’s one thing you should think about though—once I put your face out there?

You’re going to be in the spotlight. This could help you financially in a roundabout way.

I can’t guarantee it, but I’m pouring everything I have into the next catalog.

The designs for this one were already done, and I need money to keep going.

But now I’m going to tell you a little secret…

I’m planning to go a little more mainstream.

I’ll still have my rock-themed clothing, but I’m going to try to appeal to the club scene too.

I have big plans, Taryn—and I’d like you to be part of them. ”

Despite my reservations, I’m excited.

This could be the break I’m looking for.

“And one more thing.”

I look up curiously.

“I’m going to make a similar offer to Mick.”