Page 8 of Sweet as Sin (Bad Habit 1)
Oh dear Lord. This wasn’t happening.
Examining my face, Nico’s expression went from a sexy glower to an even sexier smirk, this one ridiculously self-satisfied.
“I do not accept.” I enunciated each word carefully, holding Nico’s gaze. My heart pounded as if it were trying to break out of my chest. “As I said, I’m not interested. The answer is no.”
Completely ignoring me, Kenji danced around the rack of wedding dresses and began rifling through them, first whistling in happiness, then muttering something to himself about sample sizes and girls who ate too many carbs.
I made a mental note to remind myself to stab him later. Ten times for ignoring every word I’d said as if only Nico’s opinion mattered, and another twenty for that crack about the carbs.
I made another mental note to myself to lay off the chips and salsa.
Then Nico Nyx uttered a sentence that made me reconsider my position. “Avery’s day rate is thirty thousand bucks; you’ll get the same.”
All the breath left my lungs as if I’d been punched in the solar plexus.
Thirty.
THOUSAND.
Dollars.
I can’t speak for the rest of the world, but for me that was a fuckload of money. For basically doing . . . what? Prancing around in a wedding dress for an afternoon?
He’s still a world-class asshole, chastised my feminist side. His sweet, beautiful, helpless girlfriend shows up wasted on set, and he has his driver take her home? Epic boyfriend fail. Do NOT go into the light!
Yes, he’s an asshole, countered my pragmatic side. A RICH asshole, who just offered you more money for a few hours’ work than you make in half a year. Don’t be stupid. You can put half of it toward the mortgage, and use the other half to pay down your credit cards, then never see him again. Go INTO the light!
But what about Avery?
It’s not your fault she can’t stay sober!
What if seeing another woman in her man’s video will push her over the edge?
Bitch, PLEASE!
The two sides of my conscience were screaming at each other, and I was beginning to feel like a candidate for a mental institution. I had to make a decision, quick.
I took a breath and made it. “No nudity.”
Nico lifted one shoulder. I took it as an affirmative.
“And no other . . . funny business.”
Nico chuckled. “It’s a music video, babe, not a porno. You don’t even have to talk. Just stand there and look sexy.”
Just look sexy? Did I look like I knew how to “look sexy”?
Did he think I looked sexy?
Kenji chimed in. “Trust me, lovey, you’ll do great. I’ve done a million of these things. They’ll do a few takes of each scene, and make it look perfect in editing. No sweat.” He turned away from the rack of dresses to look at me. “So, I’m thinking you’re a size four?”
I hadn’t been a size four since about the sixth grade. I figured he was trying not to embarrass me in front of Nico, so I merely nodded, trying to look cool.
Kenji winked, confirming my suspicions, and turned back to the dresses. “This,” he enthused, pulling out a slinky, side-slit number, “is it!”
Nico grunted his approval. I stared in disbelief at the gown. The fabric was so thin, and there was so little of it, I could have folded it up like a handkerchief and stuck it in my back pocket.
“No way, Kenji! And Nico, isn’t there some kind of paperwork I should sign? You know, like a contract?”
