Page 72 of Lizzie Blake's Best Mistake
Dominic held up his hand, his voice low so no one else would hear. “Rake, you can’t bring women like that to events like this.”
Rake blinked, not understanding.
Dominic looked at Rake then sighed, his anger easing like he was about to import a life lesson to a small child. “I get it. Being young can cloud your judgment when it comes to mixing business with… pleasure,” Dominic said, shooting Rake a conspiratorial glance. “But you have to be wiser than this. You’re representing the company. The brand. Girls like her aren’t a good look for events like this.”
Rake opened his mouth, but no words came out.
Dominic clapped his hand on Rake’s shoulder in a friendly gesture, but his grip squeezed harder than necessary. “Don’t getme wrong, girls like that are always a good time,” he said in a lascivious whisper, “but leave that for your private time. And I tell you this from making similar mistakes myself when I was your age. You have a great career ahead of you, and I’d hate to see something like that… tarnished.”
Rake stared at him, his mind reeling as he tried to figure out what to say.
“Glad we had this talk,” Dominic said with one more pat on Rake’s shoulder. He plastered on a grin and walked away, mingling with his clients.
Rake scrubbed a hand down his face, feeling like an absolute wanker as he played back the conversation. He hated hearing Dominic talk about Lizzie that way, but he also couldn’t challenge his boss and get fired on the spot. He doubted Dominic even meant it. He was probably as stressed and tired as the rest of the team and lashed out at the nearest target.
“Rake?”
Rake spun around to see his coworker Andrew typing away on his phone as he started to speak. “The photographers are ready to get the ‘candid,’”—Andrew paused his typing long enough to add air quotes—“shots of the models with the golden hour, but we need your approval before we start.”
“Right,” Rake said, following Andrew toward the shallow end of the pool where the models were clustered in their black-and-white swimsuits, long-limbed and smiling radiantly as they gently splashed in the water.
Rake shared a few words with the photographer, confirming the aesthetic goals of the shots, then clapped his hands, telling everyone to get to it.
Rake watched with disinterest, trying to avoid the suggestive smiles some of the women sent him. After a few minutes he rearranged the order, pulling a few girls out for a smaller focused shot. They were all naturals, smiling and posing withprofessionalism that made Rake confident they’d have plenty of images to use.
He was about to call it a wrap and let the models and photographer go back to actuallycandidcandids, when a husky voice spoke near his ear.
“These suits are divine,” the woman purred, placing a hand on his shoulder. She gave him a honeyed smile, lips full and dark red, her catlike features framed by waves of silky black hair. “I’m Sasha, by the way,” she added.
“Rake,” he said, giving Sasha a brief smile before turning his attention back to the pool.
“And what do you do, Rake?” she asked, pressing closer to him under the pretense of moving out of the photographer’s way. She didn’t step back.
“I’m on Onism’s creative team.”
She let out a tinkling laugh like that had been a hilarious joke, and he shot her a funny look. She was undeniably gorgeous and friendly, and the Rake from five years ago would have jumped at her obvious flirtation. But, at this point in his life, he wasn’t interested. And after dealing with Dominic, the last thing he had patience for was small talk. Strangely enough, even theideaof engaging in flirty banter with this woman made his skin crawl, and an image of Lizzie flashed full force through his brain.
“I’m a model,” Sasha said, dragging a hand down her lovely figure. “Obviously.”
“You’re doing great work,” Rake said, hoping his tone sounded professional as he gestured toward the pool. She giggled again.
“It’s easy when these suits are so glamorous,” she said, finally stepping away to do a full spin as she ran her hands over the crisscrossing fabric that went from the top piece to the bottom. “Oh, am I all tangled back here?” she asked, stopping with her back toward him, her fingers resting on the fabric near thecurve at the base of her spine. The weaving pattern was tucked and bunched, forming a small ball of knotted material.
“Yeah, looks a bit twisted,” Rake said, clearing his throat as he glanced up from her perky butt and put all his focus on the photographer.
“Would you fix it for me?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder at him, eyes sultry and heated. Rake’s jaw ticked as he looked down her body. He nodded, quickly plucking the strings of fabric into place.
“All set,” he said, gesturing toward the photographer and pool in the hopes she’d walk away and break up the intimate dynamic that seemed to be choking him.
“You’re the best,” Sasha said, placing a hand on his chest, then popping up on her tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek. “I better get back to work, but find me later if you get a spare second,” she added, sauntering back toward the pool and shooting him one last sultry smile as she caught him watching her walk away.
Rake felt himself blush.
Like anasshole.
What waswrongwith him?
Why did he have so many…feelingsall of a sudden?