Page 115 of The Bad Girl
“How’d you manage to bungle this?”
I shoot him a scathing side-eye. “If you call not having a penis bungling, I guess that’s what I’m guilty of.”
Harry’s jaw drops. “No!”
“Yes.”
“So, what you’re saying is that a super hot biker guy, covered in tattoos, with a lean twelve-pack, and a growing business is moving into the area?”
“Yep.”
Harry looks longingly at Tom, who has just picked up his suit to change. “Tell me everything about him!”
?
Maxwell
I’ve lost track of how many magazines I’ve been featured in, but it’s definitely more than a hundred. I guess what I’m getting at is that this isn’t new to me. Nothing about a long day spent taking endless pictures coupled with answering questions you’ve already been asked hundreds of times is new to me.
And yet this shoot managed to make me want to run back to my penthouse, crawl in bed, and never do another one again.
I arrived midway through the men’s shoot and was directed to Lyness Sigler, who was sent over by Promises to conduct the interview. We chatted for a bit, I answered the usual questions, and then—in came the bride.
Beautiful and beaming—at first. It only took a mild jest at her midsection to start the flood of tears.
Fuck—I’m an asshole.
Unfortunately, Maizey has to fly out soon for a photoshoot in Madrid, and we have a limited amount of time to get shots, so calming down the mother-to-be became priority one. But every time we got her close to the point where a makeup technicians could touch her up, she’d break out into a fresh bout of sobs. Finally, Maizey decided to use the tears to our advantage.
That’s right, we exploited her emotionally-unstable condition to our advantage and made them into tears of joy.
It’s impossible to say whether or not the pictures will be usable, but Maizey assured me that if they weren’t, they’d simply photoshop her in, using a picture she had taken earlier in the day.
Lyness got what she came for, some quotes and a photograph with me, so she packed up, saying that if she needed a question answered she’d email it to my assistant.
“Am I done now?” Allison’s voice wavers as she struggles to speak between sobs.
“Almost. There are still some pictures we need to get of you with Alesso, the entire wedding party, and Mr. Stryder,” Maizey says.
“Allison,” I say, trying to mend the wound, “I’d just like to tell you how beautiful you look in your wedding gown. Truly radiant and—”
“And pregnant!” she screeches.
“No—”
“What’s going on?”
I look over to see Nadine standing in the doorframe in a teal dress, a slit revealing her long leg.
I gasp for a breath, unable to speak. All I can do is look at her.
Her brows draw inward. “Are you making my friend cry?”
“I love you!” I say, and when both Allison and Nadine shoot me perplexed looks, I try to cover my blunder with, “in that teal dress! It really shows off that leg of yours.”
It was a horrible save, but the girls don’t think twice about it.
“He said I look pregnant!” Allison says, pointing a shaky finger at me.
