Elena's POV
"Come on, baby. Give me something."
Catherine's voice echoed across the room, light but sharp enough to pull it out of me.
I lifted my chin and angled the lipstick just below my lips, turning slightly so the light caught my cheek.
"Good," she said quickly. "Now tilt your head. Slow… yes, like that."
I moved without thinking. I knew my angles. I knew what worked.
Flash. Flash.
"Hold it," the photographer muttered.
I held the pose, letting my lips part just a little, eyes steady on the lens. A soft smile formed on my lips.
"Perfect," Catherine said. "That's the one."
I switched sides, letting my hair fall over my shoulder this time. The lipstick stayed in my hand, close to my face.
Flash.
"Alright, last one. Give me your side."
I laughed under my breath. "My best side?"
"You know it."
Of course I did. I turned, lifting my chin just enough.
Effortless.
Flash.
"That's a wrap!"
The tension left my body at once. I lowered my hand and passed the lipstick back to one of the assistants before stepping off set.
I have wanted this life for as long as I can remember. Since I was thirteen, I told myself I would be a famous model one day.
The kind people stop to stare at, the kind that walks into a room and gets noticed.
But dreams like that are not always enough. You need money. You need connections. And sometimes, even that is not enough. Life is unfair like that. Luck plays its own game, and not everyone gets picked.
Someone handed me water. I took it and drank, then made my way to the dressing room.
A few minutes later, I walked out in my jeans and a simple top, my hair tied back.
Catherine was already going through the photos. The moment she saw me, her face lit up.
"Girl," she said, shaking her head. "Do you even know how beautiful you are?"
I smiled and walked closer. "I have an idea."
She turned the screen toward me.
I leaned in, eyes moving over the shots.
A small smile formed on my lips.
Clean shots. Good lighting. And me right at the center of it.
Yeah… they came out good.
"You see?" she said proudly. "You should be doing bigger things than this."
"I am doing something," I replied. "This."
She rolled her eyes playfully, then reached into her bag and pulled out an envelope.
She handed it to me.
I opened it and flipped through the cash.
My brows lifted slightly.
"This is more than usual."
"I added something extra," she said. "You did well today."
I smiled. "Thank you."
"You earned it."
I slid the envelope into my bag.
"So what time should I come tomorrow?"
She didn't answer immediately. That was enough to make me look at her properly.
"What?"
She sighed and leaned back.
"Elena… you won't be needed for this project anymore."
I blinked. "Why?"
"Their contract with us ended today," she explained. "So technically the campaign is finished."
That made sense. But something in her tone didn't sit right.
"And tomorrow?"
She hesitated, "That one will be handled by Camille."
"Camille?"
She raised both hands. "Don't ask me. I don't know what she did, but the boss wants her on it."
Of course. I let out a quiet breath. That girl had been watching my spot for weeks.
"I really wish I could do something," Catherine added softly. "But I can't."
I nodded once. "It's fine."
It wasn't.
But I wasn't about to stand here and complain.
She stood up and hugged me quickly.
"I'll call you when something else comes up."
"I know."
She gave my shoulders a small squeeze before walking off to meet the photographer.
I stayed back, pulling the envelope out again and checking the money.
A low groan left my lips.
"That witch," I muttered. "Camille!"
"Well," a voice said behind me.
"Here I am."
"Looks like the right person finally got the job," Camille said, folding her arms as she walked closer. "Took them long enough."
I turned to look at her, then shook my head.
Not worth it.
I slipped the envelope back into my bag and walked past her.
"Wow," she called after me. "Cat got your tongue? You always have something to say."
I stopped.
Slowly, I turned back.
"You should work on your insecurities," I said calmly.
Her smile dropped.
"You've been watching me for weeks. It's obvious."
Her eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"
"If you spent half that energy working on yourself, maybe you'd actually be my competition."
I gave her a small smile.
"But right now? You're not worth it."
I turned and started walking again.
Then I paused.
"Oh, and one more thing."
She didn't speak, but I knew she was listening.
"You actually saved me the stress of quitting."
Silence.
"I just got an offer from a big modelling company."
Her head snapped toward me. "That's a lie."
I smiled.
"Keep it a secret."
I didn't wait for her reply before I walked out.
The second I stepped outside, I checked the time on my phone.
Damn.
I was late.
That's a lie. I didn't have any offers. Not even close. But there was no way I was letting Camille think she had won.
I adjusted my bag and quickened my steps.
The club was already alive when I got there.
Music. Lights. People everywhere.
"Hey, trouble," a familiar voice called.
I smiled as I walked over. "Marcus."
He leaned on the counter. "You're late."
He chuckled. "Go change. VIP service."
"Already?"
He nodded, then reached behind the counter and pulled out a dark glass bottle. The gold label caught the light.
My eyes widened slightly.
"Wow… that's expensive."
"Exactly," he said, handing it to me. "Take it upstairs. Room 1."
I took the bottle and headed toward the VIP section.
The hallway was quieter. The noise from the club faded as I reached the private room.
I pushed the door open. The lights were low, the space quiet compared to the noise outside, and there was only one man inside, seated alone.
I stepped in, placing the bottle on the table.
"Your drink, sir," I said.
"Pour it."
His voice was low.
I picked up the bottle and began pouring the cognac into his glass. As I did, I felt his gaze on me, sharp and steady, and it made my shoulders tense.
My eyes dropped when I noticed a small spill on the table. I didn't like messes, so out of habit I grabbed a napkin and bent slightly to wipe it.
Just as the napkin touched the table, something brushed against my lips.
I froze.
His fingers.
Annoyance hit instantly. I dropped the napkin and turned my face away.
"There you go," I said, pushing the glass toward him.
I turned to leave. Then suddenly, a hand grabbed my wrist.
Before I could react, he pulled.
My balance slipped and I fell straight onto his lap.
"What are you—"
His hand moved to the back of my neck.
Then his lips crashed against mine without warning.
For a second, my mind went blank, then anger took over.
My hand flew up.
SMACK
A resounding slap.