One Hell of a Guy: The Cambion Trilogy, Book 1 by Tammi Labrecque Page A
Authors: Tammi Labrecque
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a reputation for being … private,” she said, choosing the word carefully.
“And I am,” he said. “For good reason.”
She wondered what that meant, but he didn’t elaborate. Maybe he just meant the usual: I’m richer than Midas and don’t want people bothering me.
“However, I feel terrible about what happened — about the part where you got in trouble for it, anyway.” He smiled, slow and lazy, and she thought about how those lips had felt on her skin, and flushed. “So I called their creative director, who has been calling me once a week for at least a year now, and told her I would be willing to let them do a feature on me … if I could pick the photographer.”
Lily shook her head a little, too stunned to say anything. Was he saying what she thought he was saying?
“And she was agreeable, provided she was allowed to approve the final shots. I told her you would be fine with that?”
She nodded dumbly.
“Well, then,” he said. “She suggested a sort of day-in-the-life photoessay. I told her I was flying to Vegas tonight, as there’s a Heavyweight Championship fight tomorrow that I’m supposed to attend. One of my smaller companies is a corporate sponsor.”
She nodded again.
“Has the cat got your tongue, Lily?”
“I’m just not entirely sure I understand. You want me to do a photo shoot with you, in Vegas?”
“I want you to fly to Vegas with me tonight, and in the morning, you start shooting,” he said. “I assume you have your own cameras?”
“Of course.”
“Very well. She seemed to think it should quite literally be a day in my life, start with me in bed in the hotel and just shoot photos all day.”
“I’m not going to bed with you,” Lily blurted. “Not even to get a job with Luxury Lifestyles.”
He smiled. “Neither of those things is on the table,” he said. “I don’t believe they’re offering a position and honestly I think you should consider freelancing anyway, at least for a while. A job like this ought to pay your expenses for a month or so, I would think.”
“I don’t even know what —”
“She emailed me a copy of their standard pay scale and contract.” He handed Lily a sheet of paper; she almost needed resuscitation when she saw the amount typed on it. A month or so , she thought. Looks like somebody doesn’t have the faintest idea what things actually cost. Try six months.
“And as for the other,” he said, “going to bed with me is not a requirement. I’m trying to make up for my part in what happened, Lily. Anything else — that’s up to you.”
It struck her that he looked pained to be saying it, but that wasn’t her problem. “I’m not sharing a room with you,” she said.
“You’ll share a suite with me,” he said, and his tone left no room for argument. “You’ll have your own room if you want it — though I’d be entirely thrilled if you chose not to use it — but I stay in the penthouse, and I’m not putting you in a different suite.”
“That’s fine,” she said, “as long as there’s a lock on the door.”
He looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “If that’s what you want,” he said, but he didn’t sound like he believed her.
She opened her mouth to say, “That’s what I want,” but the thing was … that would have been a lie. So she said nothing, and sat by while he picked up the phone to arrange a car to take her home to pick up her equipment.
Chapter 9
THE FLIGHT HAD been relatively smooth, a fact for which Sebastian was grateful, as Lily had confided in him that she sometimes got motion sickness. She’d taken a pill for it, which knocked her out. He’d been watching her sleep, just enjoying being able to look at her as much as he liked.
She was seated about as far from him as she could get, which wasn’t far in a plane which only seated four people. He’d ordered the smaller of his private planes, a custom Dassault Falcon 2000S; the standard Falcon had eight seats, but
“And I am,” he said. “For good reason.”
She wondered what that meant, but he didn’t elaborate. Maybe he just meant the usual: I’m richer than Midas and don’t want people bothering me.
“However, I feel terrible about what happened — about the part where you got in trouble for it, anyway.” He smiled, slow and lazy, and she thought about how those lips had felt on her skin, and flushed. “So I called their creative director, who has been calling me once a week for at least a year now, and told her I would be willing to let them do a feature on me … if I could pick the photographer.”
Lily shook her head a little, too stunned to say anything. Was he saying what she thought he was saying?
“And she was agreeable, provided she was allowed to approve the final shots. I told her you would be fine with that?”
She nodded dumbly.
“Well, then,” he said. “She suggested a sort of day-in-the-life photoessay. I told her I was flying to Vegas tonight, as there’s a Heavyweight Championship fight tomorrow that I’m supposed to attend. One of my smaller companies is a corporate sponsor.”
She nodded again.
“Has the cat got your tongue, Lily?”
“I’m just not entirely sure I understand. You want me to do a photo shoot with you, in Vegas?”
“I want you to fly to Vegas with me tonight, and in the morning, you start shooting,” he said. “I assume you have your own cameras?”
“Of course.”
“Very well. She seemed to think it should quite literally be a day in my life, start with me in bed in the hotel and just shoot photos all day.”
“I’m not going to bed with you,” Lily blurted. “Not even to get a job with Luxury Lifestyles.”
He smiled. “Neither of those things is on the table,” he said. “I don’t believe they’re offering a position and honestly I think you should consider freelancing anyway, at least for a while. A job like this ought to pay your expenses for a month or so, I would think.”
“I don’t even know what —”
“She emailed me a copy of their standard pay scale and contract.” He handed Lily a sheet of paper; she almost needed resuscitation when she saw the amount typed on it. A month or so , she thought. Looks like somebody doesn’t have the faintest idea what things actually cost. Try six months.
“And as for the other,” he said, “going to bed with me is not a requirement. I’m trying to make up for my part in what happened, Lily. Anything else — that’s up to you.”
It struck her that he looked pained to be saying it, but that wasn’t her problem. “I’m not sharing a room with you,” she said.
“You’ll share a suite with me,” he said, and his tone left no room for argument. “You’ll have your own room if you want it — though I’d be entirely thrilled if you chose not to use it — but I stay in the penthouse, and I’m not putting you in a different suite.”
“That’s fine,” she said, “as long as there’s a lock on the door.”
He looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “If that’s what you want,” he said, but he didn’t sound like he believed her.
She opened her mouth to say, “That’s what I want,” but the thing was … that would have been a lie. So she said nothing, and sat by while he picked up the phone to arrange a car to take her home to pick up her equipment.
Chapter 9
THE FLIGHT HAD been relatively smooth, a fact for which Sebastian was grateful, as Lily had confided in him that she sometimes got motion sickness. She’d taken a pill for it, which knocked her out. He’d been watching her sleep, just enjoying being able to look at her as much as he liked.
She was seated about as far from him as she could get, which wasn’t far in a plane which only seated four people. He’d ordered the smaller of his private planes, a custom Dassault Falcon 2000S; the standard Falcon had eight seats, but
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