Blood Type (Blood Type #1)(40)

“What do you plan to do with the photos?” he asked carefully.

“I don’t know. I just got the damn thing.” She shrugged. “Look at them? Is there a way I can put them on the computer?”

“Yes,” he said hesitantly.

“Then probably that.”

“This is important, Reyna. I don’t want your photographs to show up anywhere with your name on it. If you want to post them somewhere, they need to be anonymous. No one needs to know it’s you or that I’m letting you do this.”

“Why does it even matter?” she asked, her curiosity piquing.

“Because I said so. Haven’t you ever heard a picture is worth a thousand words? I don’t want any of those words connected to you.”

    “Or you,” she reasoned.

“Do you agree?”

“Yes,” she said automatically. If she didn’t, then he’d never let her leave again. Plus, who would care about her images? She didn’t even know if she would care about them. They could totally suck.

“Good,” he said. His shoulders relaxed as he seemed to have gotten through the difficult part of the conversation. “Also, you have a shopping date with Sophie.”

Reyna’s face fell. He gave her freedom and a ball and chain at the exact same time.

“Do I have to?” she asked, feeling like a child.

“Yes,” he said, already turning back to his phone. “Visage is throwing a celebratory ball for the passage of the Blood Census. I have to be in attendance, which means you have to be in attendance.”

“A ball?” Her ears perked up at that prospect. A ball with Beckham. Now, that could be interesting.

“Find something suitable to wear and put it on the credit card. I don’t care the cost. Whatever you want,” he muttered into his phone.

“All right.” She hugged her camera to her chest. “When am I meeting her?”

“Noon.” He looked back up at her. His eyes remained fixed on her face. God, if she only had a penny for his thoughts. “Be careful around her, Reyna. She is a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

“Then why do I have to meet her?” she asked, exasperated. The politics behind this was all so confusing. She didn’t want to spend time with people she had to guard herself against.

    “You said you wanted friends.” He arched his eyebrow just waiting for her to question him.

“Yeah…friends. People I meet who I have common interests with. Not a girl who also happens to be a permanent Visage employee.”

“What? Like the people from the hospital? Your life has completely changed and the sooner you realize that, the easier this will all be for you.”

Her eyes drifted to his mouth again unconsciously. “What about you?”

“What about me, Reyna?”

“Your life has changed. The sooner you realize that, the easier it will be for both of us,” she whispered boldly.

He watched her eyes travel slowly back up to his and she knew he felt something underneath all that bravado. But he didn’t budge an inch. He just shook his head. “The driver will be here within the hour.”





Chapter 17


When she left her room again, Beckham was gone. She could have skipped out on this entire escapade and taken her camera into the city all on her own. But then her nightmares hit her fresh. She couldn’t do that. Not to herself and not to Beckham. He had been genuinely worried about her, and the last thing she wanted was for something to happen. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad with Sophie.

She traipsed down to the lobby and was relieved to see that Everett was back to work.

“Miss Carpenter,” he said formally, not meeting her eyes.

She opened her mouth to say something, but what could she say? He might have defended Beckham for saving his life. But he knew what she was and all of his friends now knew too. Maybe Beckham was right. Maybe it was all bad and there was no way to break through it. Everett was the nicest, most genuinely kind and optimistic person she had met. If he couldn’t get past the fact that she worked for Visage, then she didn’t know if anyone really could.

“Hello,” she said softly.

“Mr. Anderson’s car today?” Everett responded.

“Yes. Thank you.”

He signaled Beckham’s driver. The minute they stood together in silence was painful. She wanted to say so much. How glad she was that he was back at work, reiterate how sorry she was about the attack, try to refute the things his friends had said about her. She knew what a blood whore looked like now…

    Instead, she didn’t say anything.

She just let Everett open the door for her.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Their eyes met in that brief moment after she sat down and before he closed the door. It felt as if the distance was insurmountable. Things would never be the same. Maybe he would never be the same.

The drive to the boutique, where she was meeting Sophie, was short. Reyna hoisted the large hobo bag over her shoulder. The weight of her camera in the bottom of the bag gave her confidence, and she strutted forward in her high heels. She was finally getting the hang of things. Still she hoped that she would have enough time, after this trip, to get some clothes that were more comfortable and would help her blend in to take pictures.