Capture

Not In The Job Description

Niall led me through the studio like it was his second home—and it kind of was. I'd expected a sleek, modern workplace, sure. But I hadn't expected to feel like a kid in a candy store.

I'd been in portrait studios since I was seventeen, but this was something else entirely.

"And here's the gear locker," Niall said, turning a corner and gesturing toward a massive metal cage. Inside, shelves overflowed with lenses, lights, rigs, cameras—everything.

I gasped audibly. "No way."

"I know. Basically porn for photographers." He grinned, unlocking the door.

I laughed, stepping inside like I was entering a sacred space. "You weren't kidding."

"I come in here when I'm stressed. Just stand and breathe."

I could see why.

After I got my fill, he showed me the break room, a few more studios, and finally guided me back through the bullpen toward a row of private offices. He opened a door with frosted glass and gestured for me to enter.

"Is this your office?" I asked, peeking at the skyline outside the massive windows, still glistening from last night's rain.

"Nope," he said casually. "It's yours. I'm next door."

I spun around. "Wait—what?"

"You heard me." His grin grew. "Welcome to Capture."

I blinked at the room, wide-eyed. "I thought I'd get, like... a cubicle."

Niall chuckled. "You're not a temp, Emma."

I grinned, touched the back of the leather chair, then dropped my bag on it. "Thank you."

"Anytime. I'll let you get settled. But holler if you need anything, yeah?"

He left, and I took a deep breath, letting it all settle in. My office. My new city. My new start.

I unpacked slowly, placing a few photos on the shelf, unwrapping a little trinket from home, and powering on the computer. The glow of the screen made it feel official. I was really here.

A knock at the door pulled me from the moment. Niall stood behind the glass, camera in hand, and another slung over his shoulder. I waved him in. "Hey—sorry to bug you again. I tried to let you have a chill morning, but I could use a hand. Got a shoot starting soon."

I perked up. "Say no more."

We headed into one of the larger studio spaces. He began setting up lights while I adjusted the backdrop. "How long have you been with Capture?" I asked.

"Four years, give or take. Moved here from Mullingar for the job."

I smiled at his accent. "Mullingar, huh?"

He caught the grin. "What?"

"Nothing. Just... your accent."

"You have one too, you know."

"No, I don't."

He gave me a look. "Nobody thinks they have one at home."

I laughed, realizing he was right. "I guess you're right."

"Washington, yeah?"

"Washington State. Not D.C."

"Oh." He looked blank. "Where's that again?"

"Top left corner of the U.S."

He shrugged. "I failed geography."

I handed him a 50mm lens and grinned. "You're hopeless."

He laughed. "Yeah, but I'm charming."

A few minutes later, the studio buzzed to life. Crew trickled in, stylists adjusted racks of clothes, and I got my first look at the client: Adele.

Yes, that Adele.

I tried to play it cool while she walked by, but it was hard to ignore the fact that one of the most famous voices in the world was ten feet away. Niall, of course, acted like it was nothing. I admired how natural he seemed, like this was just another Tuesday.

Eventually, Niall declared it was lunch and led me to the break room again, chatting like a tour guide.

"Perrie!" he called, high-fiving a blonde woman.

"Niall—loudest man in the building," she teased back. Then she turned to me. "You must be new! I'm Perrie."

"Emma. First day."

"Welcome! So, you're the American photographer everyone's talking about?"

"I am?"

"I've seen your work. You're incredible. We're lucky to have you."

I sat beside her, surprised but grateful. "Thank you. That means a lot."

Perrie introduced me to the others at the table—Eleanor, a makeup artist; Gwen, who handled client relations; and Samantha, the creative director. They welcomed me instantly, chatting like old friends and already inviting me to a night out.

Then Gwen looked at her watch. "Ladies! It's 12:25!"

The table stirred with excitement. I looked around. "What happens at 12:25?"

"You'll see," Perrie said with a smirk, checking her lipstick.

Moments later, two men in tight cycling shorts rolled their bikes down the hall, shirts neon and clinging to muscle. Perrie swooned. "Delivery time."

One was tall and lean, covered in tattoos, his shaved head giving him a slight edge that didn't match the boyish smile on his face. He wheeled his red bike through the doorway and leaned casually against the counter.

The other guy followed behind.

And just like that, the air left my lungs.

Payne.

Of course. Of course, he was here. Out of every bike messenger in London, it had to be him. My stomach dropped. My skin went cold. And for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

He wore that same smug expression, same too-perfect hair, same unreadable smirk that had pissed me off just 24 hours ago.

He made eye contact like he'd been waiting for it. 

My whole body clenched. Of course, he had to show up here today, of all days, looking like he belonged, like this was his turf. It figured. I'd finally started feeling comfortable, like I might actually fit in here, and now I was watching my irritating neighbor insert himself directly into my new world. Just fantastic.

"Hi ladies," said the tattooed guy, flashing a megawatt smile as he leaned on his handlebars.

Before Perrie could finish her introduction, Liam cut in smoothly. "Emma."

I froze. Everyone looked between us. I forced a polite smile that probably looked more like a grimace.

"We've met," Liam added, smirking like he was in on some private joke.

And just like that, my first day officially had a villain.