The Lies We Tell Ourselves

Chapter 17

As the shoot continued, Serena forced herself to focus, pushing aside the undercurrent of tension between her and Laurent. She knew that she had to maintain her professionalism. The camera clicked relentlessly, capturing the energy between them. 

At first, it was a struggle to mask her frustration, but soon her instincts kicked in. She began to ease into the shoot, the practiced poise of someone who's been in the industry for years taking over.

She shifted her position, moving closer to Laurent, their bodies aligning in a way that was almost too natural. The chemistry between them started to build, making the poses look more intimate. The crew behind the cameras exchanged impressed glances, noticing the change in Serena's demeanor.

"Wow," one of the assistants muttered, barely audible. "She's really in her element, isn't she?"

"Eight years," another crew member replied, giving a quick nod. "You can tell. The way she moves—it's like second nature to her."

The photographer, unable to hide his approval, gave a quiet whistle as he snapped a few more shots. "Serena, you're nailing it today. It's like you know exactly what I'm looking for."

Serena gave a slight, almost imperceptible smile, but she kept her focus on Laurent, blocking out everything else around her. She could feel the eyes of the team on her, but it didn't matter. She was used to the spotlight, used to being praised. This was her world.

Laurent, however, was growing increasingly uncomfortable. At first, he couldn't place the source of his irritation, but as Serena moved even closer, as the poses became more intimate, it began to eat at him. She was making it look effortless, as if their tense interaction didn't matter at all. The team was eating it up, and he couldn't stand how she was stealing the spotlight.

The photographer called out for another shot. "Alright, let's try something a bit more daring this time. Laurent, take a seat on the sofa, and Serena, I want you to sit on his lap. Just let it flow, alright?"

Serena nodded, her expression neutral. Laurent sat down, he was trying to appear relaxed. Serena moved toward him, sitting on his lap as instructed. But as she settled there, Laurent's grip tightened on her waist, his hands falling possessively. His fingers dug in a little too firmly, the tension in his posture becoming unmistakable.

Serena could feel his hands around her, the heat from his palms like a subtle reminder of the friction between them. She didn't react, maintaining her composure. If he wanted to get a rise out of her, he wouldn't get one.

The photographer clicked the camera non-stop, occasionally calling out in excitement. "Yes, that's it! Keep that energy, Serena! Laurent, look at her. You two are on fire!"

But Laurent's irritation was now evident in his body language. He was supposed to be relaxed, calm, but every second Serena stayed so close, every inch of contact, was starting to grate on his nerves. He pulled his hands away after a moment, trying to ease the discomfort.

Next, the photographer shifted things around. "Alright, Laurent, take a seat in the chair, and Serena, I want you to sit on his lap, facing him this time. Let's add a little intimacy to the shot. Maybe lean into him a little."

Laurent gritted his teeth as he took his seat. Serena moved toward him once again, her movements fluid and graceful. She sat on his lap and positioned herself so that she was facing him. As she leaned forward, Serena rested her chin on his shoulder, her breath warm against his skin.

Laurent felt a shiver run through him, a visceral discomfort that he tried to suppress. He could feel the weight of her presence, the closeness making his skin crawl. Serena's breath against his neck sent an involuntary shudder through him, but he kept his face neutral, refusing to let the team see any sign of weakness.