Page 33 of My Playboy Neighbor

"Bullshit.You're a photographer.Images are your currency.How do I know you weren't planning to sell these?To use them to advance your career?"

"How can you even think that?"

"Because I don't know you," Dom said brutally."Not really.We've been fucking for less than a week, and you've been documenting it like some kind of anthropological study.Tell me, what's the going rate for intimate photos of me these days?"

Tears stung her eyes at the cruelty in his voice."You know that's not what this is about."

"Do I?Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you've been collecting ammunition this whole time.What happens when our arrangement ends?When you're back in New York looking for your next big break?"

"I would never—"

"Never what?Never be tempted by a seven-figure offer from some tabloid?Never use these to establish your credentials as the photographer?"His laugh was bitter."You wouldn't be the first to try."

Maya stared at him, seeing the real fear underneath his anger.This wasn't just about the photographs—this was about trust, about vulnerability, about the walls Dom had built to protect himself from exactly this kind of betrayal.

"You're right," she said."I don't know you.Because you won't let me.You give me your body, your dominance, your control—but never yourself.Never the man behind all that armor."

"Maybe because that man isn't worth knowing," he said, the fight going out of him.

"Maybe that's for me to decide."She stepped closer, ignoring the warning in his posture."Those photos, those sketches—they're not ammunition.They're proof."

"Proof of what?"

"That you're human.That you feel things, even when you pretend you don't.That what we have is real, even if you're too scared to admit it."

He went very still."You think I'm scared?"

"I think you're terrified," she said simply."Of needing someone.Of being vulnerable.Of admitting that maybe, just maybe, you care about more than just your career and your reputation."

For a moment, his mask slipped again, and she saw the fear, the loneliness, the desperate need he was fighting so hard to deny.Then the walls slammed back into place.

"Get out," he said quietly.

"Dom—"

"Get out."His voice was harder now, final."Take your cameras, take your sketches, take your proof, and get the fuck out of my life."

She stared at him, searching for any sign that he didn't mean it.But Dom's expression was carved from stone, his eyes empty of everything that had made her fall for him in the first place.

"Fine."Her voice was steady despite the tears threatening to fall."But when you're ready to stop running from the truth, you know where to find me."

She gathered her equipment, acutely aware of Dom watching her every movement.When she reached the door, Maya paused without turning around."For what it's worth, I was falling in love with you.Not the model, not the reputation—you.The man in those photographs who's too afraid to let himself be real."

She left before he could respond.In the hallway, she finally let the tears fall, her heart breaking for the man who was too damaged to accept what she was offering.

Unable to sleep that night, she stared at the unguarded folder on her laptop.Every image showed a man learning to trust, to feel, to love.She could delete them—prove to him that she'd never meant to exploit his vulnerability.

But that would be another kind of lie, wouldn't it?These photos weren't exploitation.They were hope made visible.Evidence that Dom was capable of more than he believed.She wasn't going to apologize for seeing his potential.

Instead, she sent him all of the pictures. Let him delete them if he wanted. She was done.

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