Arranged(24)

I was all set to go, hair piled high up on my head and laced through with an extravagant crown of dusky pink roses. My makeup was heavy glam, with a dramatic cat eye and dark red wine lips.

The gown I was modeling was a risqué ensemble to begin with. It was so sheer that I couldn’t even wear a bra. This was why I was wearing nothing but the tiniest nude thong in the world, itty bitty pasties, and four-inch high transparent stiletto sandals while I waited for the alteration.

Normally I’d have a robe to walk around in, but they’d taken the dress from me mid-change, and what was supposed to be a quick fix, wound up taking longer. Two minutes turned into an unexpected thirty as they carefully hand sewed the tear and hid it enough for the shoot.

I was bored. I’d already sat in the hair and makeup chair for two hours, and I was waiting again, just standing there all made up and bare at the same time. Luckily all of the blaring lighting warmed the room enough that it wasn’t chilly.

I noticed the good lighting at right about the same time I spotted a floor length mirror.

I contorted my body into its best angles, hiked my leg up, and banded an arm across my breasts to cover them up. I snapped a few shots like that, then immediately went into my camera roll to check them out.

They were good. They were flattering without being vulgar, and I loved my glam makeup and flower crown.

I put my favorite shot up on Instagram. The caption was silly. I posted it because I was bored and I thought it was kind of funny.

Loving my latest look from Balmain but I think they forgot something. #extraaf

I was nearly nude, and the picture made it look like I was totally nude, but it wasn’t like anything was showing. All of my essentials were covered up.

I didn’t imagine anything like that could bother my husband. I modeled for a living. Hell, I’d just landed a lingerie campaign. My modesty had been thrown out the window years ago.

I posted it then went back to texting with Jovie and watching my current K-drama obsession on my phone while they finished fixing the dress.

When I was finally dressed, we got back to work. The shoot took another three hours, and by then, I’d completely forgotten about the picture.

“What do you want for dinner, Duchess?” Chester asked me as he walked me out to the waiting car.

I sighed. “Do you mind if we go to that salad place you found for me a few weeks ago?”

He grimaced, handing me into the car.

I nodded to Vincent, who nodded back.

Chester walked around to the other side and sat down in the back with me. “I thought you were off that awful diet Asha had you on.”

“I am. Now I’m on an awful diet I put myself on. I have a shoot where I’m practically naked on Monday.”

He shot me a look. It was his disapproving father look.

“What?” I asked him, stifling a laugh. I didn’t mind it when he lectured me. For some reason I found it cute. Probably because I knew he did it because he cared.

It had been a long time since someone cared about me.

“Speaking of being naked,” he said in his best dad lecturing voice, “I saw that picture you posted. What was that all about?”

I was surprised he’d seen it. And a little embarrassed. I shrugged. “I thought it was funny. It wasn’t funny?”

He ran a hand through his red mane of hair, still staring me down. It became harder for me not to laugh. His face was a perfect combination of amused and exasperated. “It was naked, Duchess.”

“It felt more like a nude to me,” I said with perfect composure.

That finally broke him out into a smile. I looked up front. Even stone-faced Vincent was smirking.

“You do know that nude and naked are the same thing,” Chester pointed out.

“Not really,” I tried, out-and-out grinning, “nude is classier. Nude is art.”

I’d gotten him to laugh, and I loved it. I laughed with him. “You know,” I told him honestly. “Having you two around all the time is the probably best perk about my marriage.”

It was the truth.

When I’d been told I’d have a full security detail, I hadn’t understood the need for it—still didn’t—but I hadn’t really thought much of it. I hadn’t put any thought into whether I’d like or hate the constant company.

I hadn’t realized, until I spent so much time with people whose company I enjoyed, just how lonely I was. How alone I’d constantly been for years.

I was finding out, for the first time in forever, that I liked having company more than I liked being alone.

It was nice.

Chester gave me a look that was outright fond. “And you’re my favorite body I’ve ever guarded.”

I waved him off. “You’re just saying that.”

“No, I mean it. You’re always polite. You treat us well.” He looked at Vincent. “Back me up here, man.”

“I agree,” Vincent said simply, eyes on the road.

“And you’re not terrible to look at, either,” Chester added teasingly. “I’ve been working for the Castelos for almost fifteen years, and I’ve never enjoyed working for them more than I have in the past month.”

I flushed head to toe in pleasure. “Thank you,” I told him, feeling shy. “Are you not normally . . . friends . . . with the people you guard?”