Torn(41)

"You slept in his bed?" Her eyes widen. "You f*cked him last night then?"

"He f*cked me on his dining room table very early this morning." I squeeze her forearm as I gesture to the case that's resting by her expensive heels. "We need to get there now, Maya. Let's go."

"Wait." She stalls me when she places her hand over mine. "You didn't just say he f*cked you on a dining room table, did you?"

"The Bishop, Maya." I point up the block to where the hotel towers over the adjacent buildings. "Let's go take some pictures that will knock Mr. Bishop's socks off."

She heaves the bag back onto her shoulder. "Personally, I'd rather knock his pants off."

***

I fall into the worn leather chair in my studio soon after I walk through the door. My morning was even better than I envisioned it would be. Maya and I worked like a well-oiled machine together as soon as we both got over the initial shock of how exquisite the hotel suite was.

The marketing department at Bishop Hotels wanted shots of the bedroom, the sitting area and the washroom of one of the luxury suites. It was immaculate and a dream to photograph. I worked quickly, not giving it to the temptation to overthink each shot. I let my intuition guide me and with Maya's help and the help of one of the housekeeping staff sent up to steam the bed linens to remove all the wrinkles, I left with hundreds of stunning pictures.

If Mr. Bishop and his staff can't see the beauty of their hotel in their pictures, I may need to find another job.

I scan my phone for any missed messages. I have three texts from clients all booked in over the course of the next week. They each want to confirm their times and two of them are looking for guidance on what to wear. I reply back to each, taking the time to ask how their day is, along with a few encouraging words about how great I know the shoot will be.

I've learned, through a lot of hours of coddling, that most people aren't comfortable in front of a camera. When I ask someone to smile, it's rare that I'm going to actually get a smile that doesn't look fake or forced.

Getting them comfortable before they even arrive to my studio, benefits both of us. They feel as though they know me so some of those defenses that we all have, fall down. I get better pictures, they're generally happier with the results. That almost always means either repeat business from them or a referral.

Just as I press send on the last message there's a knock at the door of my studio. I glance down at the time on my phone. My one o'clock headshot session is a half hour early. I heave a sigh as I get up to walk across the room. My heels feel like they're filled with lead. I didn't sleep more than a couple of hours last night and this morning my adrenaline meter was running on high.

As much as I'd like to just go home to bed, I can't. I swing open the door before I greet my client and push my head right back into the game.





CHAPTER 32


Asher




"He's on a cruise, Asher. It took off from Athens last week." Gabriel leans back in the chair, crossing his legs at the knee. "You know Roman. He likely let the battery on his phone die. When he wants to be unreachable, he makes it happen."

I do know dad. I know that whenever a new woman crosses his path, he loses interest in everyone else, including his grandson. Caleb was pissed a few weeks ago when dad never bothered to show for his son's first birthday party.

When I got the invite to Zeek's party, I cleared my schedule. We were all there, except for my father. It shouldn't have surprised any of us. I don't remember the last birthday I celebrated where he was on the same continent as me.

"I need to speak to him," I mumble. "I want to do that in person."

He scratches his left brow. "I can step in, Asher. I'm good at offering advice."

"Dad needs to handle this one on his own." I pause, wanting to change the subject. "How's Isla feeling?"

His expression softens at the mention of his wife's name. Isla Foster is younger than me but her talent knows no bounds. Our taste in music couldn't differ more. She's a violinist, studying at Juilliard. She's almost six months pregnant with a little girl, Ella.

Both of my brothers have families now. They've come a long way from the days at the house in the Hamptons when Gabriel would drive us to town in the old truck my parents kept there. We'd stuff ourselves full of hot dogs and burgers before Gabriel would use his fake ID to buy us a case of beer.

When I was in rehab, he confessed that he felt my addictions were a product of that. The bitter taste of the beer when I was twelve-years-old didn't push me towards drugs.

He laughed when I told him that I spit most of the beer out when he and Caleb weren't looking. Those moments weren't about anything but brotherly bonding.

"She's a powerhouse." He picks at the remnants of the sandwich on the plate in front of him. "She gets more beautiful by the day, Asher. I fall in love with her more every time I see her."

"You're a lucky man." I swallow a mouthful of coffee. "That woman has more talent in her little finger than I'll ever have."

I look up at him and he's grinning. It's a normal reaction for any man who just heard a compliment about his wife. It's not typical for my brother though. Gabriel didn't smile much before Isla walked into his life. He was all business, all the time. The only other thing he focused on was me and my recovery. It's great to finally see him living the life he's always deserved.