Christian
—
As I stand off to the side, a tumultuous wave of emotions crashes over me, tightening in my chest like a vise. The photoshoot unfolds before my eyes, an intricate dance of lights and cameras, but it’s not the mere pressure of the campaign that’s igniting my anger.
Alexandria, my fiancée, stands in front of the camera, radiating beauty and grace, yet she is paired with Damian—her ex-boyfriend, the very man who shattered her heart years ago in his relentless pursuit of ambition. My heart races as I notice the tension etched on her face, a disquieting contrast to the forced smile that fails to reach her eyes.
“Can we do that over?” Ivy, the director, interrupts, and the shoot comes to an abrupt halt.
“Sorry, I need a break,” Alexandria murmurs, her voice barely above a whispered with unspoken distress.
In an instant, she darts toward her dressing room, and I find myself trailing just inches behind her, propelled by concern and a burning desire to protect her. It feels like an eternity before I muster the courage to knock on her door, and when she finally opens it, the sight of her crumpled facade sends a jolt of anguish through me. She’s not fine; the turmoil in her eyes reveals the depth of her struggle. God knows how much I want to confront that jerk, to make him feel the pain he once inflicted on her.
“Princess?” I call softly, my voice laced with worry. It’s clear that she’s not okay. “Are you alright, princess?”
“No,” she admits, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “I can’t do this, not with him.” The confession hangs heavy in the air, a poignant reminder of the scars that remain.
“Do you want to stop the shoot?” I ask gently, desperate to ease her discomfort.
“No, I can’t do that,” she insists, her resolve evident despite her distress.
“Do you want me to tell him to get lost? I could step in and do the shoot with you,” I suggest, cupping her face in my hands, trying to offer her a glimmer of hope.
“My father would be mad at me,” she replies, almost apologetically, as if the weight of familial expectations is another burden she must carry.
“Let me handle him,” I say, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead, hoping to transfer some of my strength to her.
I grab my phone and call her father, Anthony, laying out my case for why he should replace Damian with me. I outline how it would not only be better for Alexandria but also how it could save the campaign from further tension. I hold my breath, hoping he’ll agree to reclaim the money he paid Damian, but to my dismay, he refuses. Damian keeps his pay, while I agree to work for Anthony for free. The irony is not lost on me; I can make the kind of money Damian received in less than an hour, but I'm not doing this for the money, I'm doing this dor Alexandria.
“Let’s get you into costume,” Ivy commands, her tone indicating her dissatisfaction with the situation but acknowledging that she has no choice.
I change into the costume inspired by “Breakfast at Tiffany’s,” and while it fits snugly, it highlights my physique in a way that I hope will impress Alexandria. I came here today to support my princess as she showcases her talents, but the cloud of Damian’s presence looms over us, casting a shadow on her brilliance.
The scene begins with Alexandria in a chic apartment setting, preparing to wear an exquisite little black dress. The camera shifts to focus on her, capturing the way she effortlessly embodies elegance, especially with the stunning emerald green Carter & Co. jewelry adorning her. I can’t help but be mesmerized by her beauty, but the reality of the situation still gnaws at me.
As the shoot progresses, it’s my turn to enter the frame. Following Ivy's instructions, I open the box containing a luxurious watch, slipping it onto my wrist with practiced ease. The world around me fades as I focus on Alexandria, desperate to connect with her despite the circumstances.
The shoot culminates with her showcasing a dazzling diamond tennis bracelet and matching earrings, the sparkle in her eyes momentarily overshadowed by the tension that lingered. As we share a kiss—an act scripted by the campaign—I feel a rush of longing. I want to take her in my arms, to comfort her, to dispel the shadows of her past, but I know we must maintain our composure.
“Cut!” Ivy exclaims, clapping her hands together. “You guys did amazing!”
“You were incredible, princess,” I praise, giving her one last lingering kiss before we walk off the set together, a silent promise hanging in the air between us.
" Thank you for doing this. " Her smile as radiant as ever.
" I would do anything for you, my princess. " I said placing another kiss on the top of her head.
YOU ARE READING
Heir of Deception | (for mature audience)
Romance24-year-old supermodel Alexandria Carter must marry billionaire CEO Christian Calloway to secure land for her father, Anthony. As she faces family pressures and an eating disorder, Alexandria struggles with her need for approval and her feelings for...
