Dirty Shots (13 page)

“I saw how he was grabbing at you,” Eric growled.

“But what are you even doing here?” Something dawned on her, a realization in her face. “Are you following me?”

“No! Not following you. I just needed to know you would be okay. You’re too precious to me to ...”

“To what? To have a life outside of you and your studio?”

He hung his head in shame. “I was going to say, to have you getting hurt.”

“He wasn’t the one who hurt me,” she said, and he tried not to recoil at her words. Anya gave a sigh. “Plus, I deal with assholes like Gavin every day. I don’t need you defending me. Now get in the car and drive away before the cops arrive and you find yourself being prosecuted.”

She started to open the driver’s door for him, but he slammed it shut. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”

“Don’t be an idiot. I need to go back to my dorm and change before someone accuses me of soliciting.”

“Get in the car with me, and we’ll go straight to the store, and I will buy you more clothes.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t need you buying more clothes for me, Eric. I have plenty of decent ones a few hundred yards away in my room.”

“I have the money,” he growled. “I can afford it.”

“I don’t care.” She sighed. “Look, drive around the block, get out of here. I’ll go and get changed and then meet you one block south of here, okay? Then we’ll talk.”

He didn’t want to leave her alone again, especially not with all of Gavin Hollis’s friends hanging about and her with her shirt still torn, but it wasn’t as if he could bundle her into his car and drive off with her. That would make him no better than idiots like Gavin.

“Okay,” he relented. “But we do need to talk.”

She gave him a grim nod before turning and walking at a brisk pace back across campus. He sat and watched her go, noting how people glanced her way as she walked, but no one stopped her to ask if she was all right. He waited until he’d seen her disappear into a building, before he started the car and pulled away from the curb.

As Anya had instructed, he found a parking space a block south and pulled up, waiting for her. His face throbbed, as did the knuckles of his right hand, which were already swollen and flowering in purple and green bruises. He reached out and twisted the rear view mirror to get a better look at his face. Another bruise was blooming across his jaw, and the bridge of his nose was swollen, dark marks of a couple of shiners below both eyes. Blood had crusted and darkened beneath his nostril and in the corner of his mouth.

He hoped no one who had witnessed the fight placed him as the art lecturer who sometimes came in to teach. That would be the end of that job—not that he needed the money, but he enjoyed teaching. He hated the idea his name would be blighted with the news he had beaten up a student. What if the media got hold of it? He cringed at himself. What had come over him?

The passenger door opening startled him from his thoughts. Anya slipped into the seat, wearing a fresh pair of jeans and a sweater, her blonde hair tied up and away from her face.

She opened her mouth to speak, but he interrupted her. “I don’t want to talk about the fight, Anya. I shouldn’t have hit a student, but I won’t apologize for defending you. If the same thing happened again, I would still step in. And it wasn’t as if I followed you in a stalker way, either. I was worried that you hadn’t gotten home safely, and as far as I’m concerned, witnessing what I did meant my instincts were right.”

She looked down at her hands in her lap. “I guess that’s another thing we’ll have to agree to disagree about.”

“We still need to figure out what we’re going to do about the exhibition.”

She lifted her eyes to his, liquid blue he could fall into and drown. “I’ve said everything I mean to about that matter.”

“Wait one minute. Will you come and meet Logan Blanc? I want you to hear from someone else about how perfect your pictures are, how they’re nothing to be ashamed of, and how the ones with your face in them are so much more intense than the others.”

“You’re trying to change my mind?”

He shrugged. “You can’t blame me, Anya. This is important to me.”

“I don’t want my mind changing.”

“You said you would do anything for art.”

“Don’t try to manipulate me.”

“I’m not. I’m just repeating what you said.”

She sighed, deep and filled with pain. “I guess I should have thought this through.”

“Okay, so you admit that much. If you care about my art, if you care about me, please give me this one thing and come with me to meet Logan.”

“What if Logan can’t change my mind?”

“Then I guess I will have to do the exhibition with none of the photographs of your face. But you realize doing so may ruin my career. People—critics—may not understand what I am trying to achieve in our photographs, because they won’t be shown the full collection.”

Anya bit her lower lip, and he realized she was trying not to cry. She gave a sniff. “I’m sorry, Eric. I never meant to put you in this position.”

He leaned into her, reached out to slip his hand around the back of her neck, his fingers lacing in her hair at the nape. He tightened his grip slightly, forcing her to lift her face up to him. “Just come with me to meet Logan.”

“Okay,” she relented. “Okay.”

His whole body sagged with relief. He’d not won the war yet, but felt he’d at least won the battle. But his relief came with a deep sense of remorse. He couldn’t stand to see her so sad, especially knowing he was at the root of the cause. He released her hair, his hand dropping into his lap.

“I don’t want to lose you, Anya. We work too well together to let this come between us. We need to figure this out.”

She looked at him, her eyes glistening. “That’s what worries me, Eric. That you only want me because of my photographs.”

Unable to stop himself from touching her, he reached out and brushed her cheek, her skin soft and smooth against his knuckles. “We are art, Anya. We can’t escape that. And we shouldn’t try to stop it either.”

She looked at him, almost pleading. “I want to be more than just your model.”

“You are. You’re everything to me.”

He just hoped Logan could convince her.

––––––––

N
erves roiled in her stomach
as she smoothed down the skirt of her dress. Anya straightened in front of the full length mirror and quickly checked how her figure looked in the silky, red material. She turned around and twisted her neck, making sure the clingy fabric didn’t make her backside appear to be the size of a bus. No, she’d get away with it. Her round behind would never be mistaken for being on the small size, but the dress cut in nicely at her waist, making her a perfect hourglass.

She turned to face the mirror again and took a deep breath, letting the air back out slowly through her nose. She was due to meet Eric and his friend, Logan Blanc, at a bar downtown in less than half an hour. She was nervous, not only because of the tension that still existed between her and Eric, but also because she was meeting Logan for the first time.

Logan Blanc was infamous in the city. With his surfer-dude, blond good looks, and coming from old money, as well as running a successful gallery himself, he was regularly photographed with some tall, skinny model on his arm, featured as one of New York’s eligible bachelors. Anya knew she wasn’t his type—not that it mattered, of course. While she and Eric might not officially be a couple and had some problems of their own, she only had eyes for him. The problem was that Logan had seen her photographs—explicit pictures of her breasts, pussy, and asshole, sometimes penetrated by plugs, her own fingers, or bound by rope or cuffs. She’d never exposed herself to a man in that way before, and certainly never allowed someone to take photographs. The idea that a man she’d never met had also seen them, and she was about to meet him for a drink and have him try to convince her to use them publically, made her lightheaded and nauseated.

Despite this, she tried to control her nerves. She was doing this for Eric.

The door of her dorm room swung open, and the dark-haired head of her roommate popped through.

Anya paused in checking herself out. “What are you doing?” she said to what appeared to be a floating head.

Nadine grinned. “Just checking you weren’t hiding any mysterious strangers in here.”

“Well, if I am, I’m doing a damn good job of hiding them.”

Nadine stepped fully into the room and looked around. “Looks like all’s clear.” Then she caught sight of Anya’s dress and let out a low wolf-whistle. “There might not be any guys in here, but I’m going to assume someone is getting lucky tonight. Hot date?”

“Kinda. More like a business meeting, actually.”

“Anya, sweetie. You’re not turning tricks, are you?”

“Nadine! I can’t believe you’d even say that!” Her stomach dropped at the thought that Gavin might have started to spread that rumor, despite Eric’s threat.

She burst out laughing. “I’m kidding! But seriously, what’s going on with you? Is it the same guy, the one who punched Jackass Gavin?”

She shrugged. “Yeah, him and a friend. But it’s to do with my career, I promise.” It was only a partial lie.

“
Two
hot guys? Can I come?”

Anya laughed and threw a tube of mascara at her friend. Nadine dodged easily out of the way. “I told you, this is work.”

“Well, you look stunning, Anya. You’ll blow them away.”

Anya smiled. “Thanks, doll.”

She gave her blonde hair a final fluff to create body, and leaned forward to check her makeup one last time. Satisfied she was looking her best, she picked up her purse from the dresser. “Okay, I’m off.” She headed toward the door.

“Have fun!” her roommate called after her. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

Knowing Nadine, she did pretty much anything, so that would be a hard challenge to match.

Has she ever had a guy photograph her wearing a butt-plug and then want to put it on public display?
She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She didn’t think even Nadine could top that one.

She headed off campus, thankful for the lightweight trench coat she had belted at the waist. She didn’t want to attract any more attention to herself from the wrong people. It was strange how she was trying to hide away on campus, while she might be so exposed to the rest of the city in a little over a week.

If I agree to the exhibition, of course.

She could still refuse to have her face in the portraits, at least.

But then Eric’s career may suffer. Could you really be that selfish?

And it could ruin your relationship with your family,
she told herself, feeling like an angel and a devil were sitting on each shoulder, speaking in her ear.
Is Eric selfish enough to allow you to do that?

His work meant everything to him, he’d said so a number of times. Would he sacrifice her relationship with her parents for it? She guessed so. But the real question was, would he sacrifice
their
relationship for his work? If he went ahead and exposed the portraits of her face without her permission, surely their relationship would be over?

But he has your permission
, she told herself.
You gave it to him when you signed the contract.

She sighed and headed onto the main road and flagged down a cab. She climbed in the back and gave the driver the address of the bar where she was meeting the men. Eric had offered to come and pick her up, but she hadn’t wanted him or his car anywhere near the university. If someone recognized him after the incident with Gavin Hollis and reported him, he could end up with battery charges. She thought only Gavin’s male pride had prevented him reporting the fight in the first place. She’d caught sight of Gavin from afar that morning, noting the boy’s swollen, bruised face. She ducked away, quickly, desperate not to be seen. The whole day she’d been trying not to be seen.

Lost in thought, she’d barely noticed the drive through the city. Only the driver leaning back to ask for his fare made her realize he’d pulled up alongside the curb outside the bar. She paid him and climbed from the cab, the nerves returning. Through the big glass windows, she could see people standing in groups or sitting at tables, nursing expensive bottles of beer or large glasses of wine. It was past seven now, so most of the office workers had finished for the day and were rounding the working day off with a cold beverage or two. She wished she’d asked Eric to pick her up now. At least she wouldn’t have to walk into the bar alone.

She pushed open the door, making way for a young couple, their arms around each other, as they were on their way out. Feeling awkward, she glanced around the bar, trying to spot Eric. For a moment, she thought he’d not arrived yet, but then her eyes locked with his dark stare. Her heart faltered, but a smile broke across his face. He was sitting at a small round table in the corner, already with a beer on the surface in front of him, and he started to get to his feet. Sitting opposite, and still with his back to her, was a blond head of jaw length waves, surfer messy, as if he’d just spent the day on the beach. His shoulders were broad beneath a white t-shirt. He noticed Eric getting to his feet and twisted in his chair. Aqua-green eyes met with hers, his mouth breaking into a smile to reveal a set of perfect white teeth. He had a slight cleft in his clean shaven chin, which gave him a boyish charm.

Anya’s heart immediately stepped up a notch, her breath catching in her chest. There was no mistaking Logan Blanc.

She flashed back a small smile as she approached and then turned her attention back to Eric. He’d made his way around the table to greet her.

“Hey.” He slipped his arm around her waist and kissed her full on the mouth. Was that some kind of claim he’d made on her, perhaps knowing the effect seeing Logan had had on her? Not that she minded, of course. She was pleased Eric had kissed her in public. “I’m so glad you’re here. I was worried you’d change your mind.”

She flushed. “No, of course not. I told you I’d come.”