Page 24 of The Rival in South Africa
My laughter died. “Did I like what?”
“Did you like it when I cuddled you?” he asked. The graveness of the question swept the humor out of the room like a chilling breeze.
I swallowed hard.
“Maybe,” he said, just before ducking out the door, “that’s why you need some time away from me.”
TEN
“Hold the drink a bit higher,”called Sam. I lifted the bee’s knees cocktail up and hoped she knew what she was talking about. I had the camera set up on a tripod, the framing down to a tee, so I supposed her feedback was better than her trying to adjust the camera.
It was odd to sit for my own camera with someone else in control. Sometimes I set it up for myself with a remote clicker to trigger the shutter, but more often, I was the one behind the lens. Or at least I had been with Ion.
“Okay, I think we got it.”
I put the cocktail down and sauntered over to the camera. I looked through the photos and breathed a sigh of relief. They were perfect. Daylight was fading, and we were losing the light, but this photo was exactly what I had in mind. I was facing away from the camera, my wide-brimmed hat making me unrecognizable as I looked out toward the colorful sky, a cocktail in hand and oil torches lighting the deck around me.
Just perfect.
“Sam, this is fabulous. You are doing such a great job.” She ducked her head, and we both grinned. “Okay, last one. To the bar!” I pointed skyward in a tally-ho gesture, and we laughed.
“That is where everyone wants to be,” she confirmed.
We set up the last shot, ditching the hat in exchange for turning my head away from the camera. This time I set up the framing and tripod to accentuate my slinky dress and heels. The dress was bright red, full of curves. The pose with the cocktail on the deck overlooking the sunset had only shown my shoulders and straps. This one was a full-length shot.
The bar was candle-lit, the roaring fire going, and there was just enough light to barely pull this off. It was dark and sexy and luxurious.
I struck my pose, and Sam snapped away, giving me gentle directions while I held a martini. I kept reminding myself to relax my shoulders, fix my posture, suck in my tummy, all the little things a model knows to do to make the photo better.
Ion had been much better at this than me. But I was learning.
“What is this?” Alex’s voice rang out through the hall. I’d been so focused I hadn’t noticed the distant chatter of the guests approaching from the lot.
Without moving, I called out to him, “Hang on, we’re almost done. Right, Sam?”
“Yeah. Maybe…look down a bit more?”
I tilted my head, and after a pause, she called it. I broke my pose, checked the shots, and thanked her again.
“No worries. It’s good timing. I’ll get back to the kitchen now.”
That left Alex and me alone. The rest of the guests must have been dropping their gear off, freshening up for dinner.
“What were you doing?”
I looked Alex up and down; his fist gripped the strap of his binos, turning the knuckles white. In the growing darkness, I couldn’t make out the brown of his irises.
“Sam was helping me take photos.”
“For what?”
I shrugged while packing up my things, setting my lenses carefully in the backpack.
“Let me guess, Ion got you doing your own Instagram thing now?”
That gave me pause. It was partially true—I did have my own Instagram account that I used to promote my travels and my sponsored trips like this one. But it was also anonymous—hence the large hats and head-turning.
Alex had been so derisive of Ion’s Instagram account. Which, yes, I did understand that for most people, an Instagram account is a rather frivolous thing. But Alex didn’t know the behind-the-scenes of it; he’d never bothered to ask or think about what went into Ion’s social media and how much it impacted his career.
