Mr. Berkshire (Book 1 in the For Better Or Worst Trilogy)

Chapter 6

     We arrive to the photoshoot in silence. Neither of us dares to break it in fear it will worsen the situation. Inside, Mr. Berkshire is ushered to makeup while i'm dragged to the photographers. They were layering one photo after another in my hands as examples. 

     "Our main priority is to represent strength, but also sex. I mean come on." The red haired woman, who is in charge, tosses her curls over her shoulder and glances over at Mr. Berkshire, who looks reasonably uncomfortable from all the makeup that's being thrown at him, a look of desire in her crystal eyes. "That man reeks sex. Women want to fuck him and men want to be him. People will not get over the sexy mysterious billionaire." There's no denying that Mr. Berkshire is a sucker for sore eyes. If I was a poet, I'd probably describe him something as a piece of art sculpted by God himself. But i'm not a poet, so I just look like an idiot trying to describe a man who's indescribable. 

     "But what about his publishing company? Isn't that what people want to know?" My tone is low and full of curiosity. I don't want her to think i'm trying to tell her how to do her job. However, Berkshire Publishing is not sex. Where is Mr. Berkshire's brand? 

     "Sweetie, you have so  much to learn. Books are great, but books aren't going to sell themselves. Sex sells books. Have you read fifty shades of grey? That whole book made business men sex icons. Mr. Berkshire's books aren't going to sell themselves. Mr. Berkshire, the sex icon, will sell those books. Comprende?" Without waiting for a response, she walks off to retrieve the 'sex icon' from the makeup artists. 

     Sighing, I retreat to the spot beside the photographers. This is probably the safest spot in the room. Back here, i'm a safe distance from the red devil. The last thing I want is to be thrown out of here because if my inability to bite my tongue. My papa always warned me my mouth would get me into some trouble. As a lady, I thought I had bit the habit in the butt, however, even though I will never admit it, perhaps Seattle is changing me, or maybe just someone in particular. 

     I watch as they position the man in front of the camera. At first it's almost impossible to recognize him, besides his heavily made up face, he's also incredibly stiff. The usually confident billionaire looks like a deer in headlights. The first round of photos are hard to look at. In most of them, he looks either confused or bored. In the others, he looks more like mannequin than an actual human being. No wonder he doesn't do these type of things. Next to me, I can hear the red headed woman and the photographer mumbling unhappily between themselves. Sneaking a glance at Mr. Berkshire, I see that he's growing more frustrated by the second. While the two talk among themselves, I make my way towards him. 

     "Are you okay?" I whisper softly. 

     "This is a bunch of bullshit. They waste my fucking time with this fucking makeup and the fucking ridiculous poses. Then they get pissed when they don't get what they want." There's that tick in his jaw, a clear sign that he's annoyed by the situation. He rolls his shoulders and looks just about ready to abandon ship when I give his bicep a squeeze. 

     "I'm gonna fix this." I assure him then turn and quickly gather some makeup wipes from the makeup station. As soon as I return to him, I begin to scrub at the makeup that covers his face. 

     "What the hell are you doing?!" The red head yells, marching towards us. "You're ruining it!" I turn to face her, arms crossed over my chest.

     "Mr. Berkshire has decided to change his direction for this photoshoot. After all, he is the brand. And if you don't like that, then we can take our business elsewhere." This is the closest i've ever been to a stand off. Conflict isn't my forte, but i'm not about to let these people run all over Roman. I raise a brow, daring her to argue with me. Though, she simply chews on the inside of her cheek and returns to the photographer's side. I return to the job at hand, removing the makeup from his face. I can feel his eyes attempting to meet mine as I gently wipe at the foundation across his cheek. "What?"

     "Nothing, just surprised is all. Who knew princess had it in her?" He flashes me a teasing grin. I roll my eyes in return, but the smile tugging at my lips quickly gives me away. Nearly finished with the removal of the foundation, he takes my hand and looks into my eyes. "Thank you, Sawyer." His words are warm. In the pits of my stomach, a fireplace is lit and my body is warmed from the inside out. I smile and nod, unable to find the right words to respond with. Because 'you're welcome' will simply not suffice. 

     Once I finish, I readjust his tie around his neck. Then, I smooth his blazer around his shoulders, removing the wrinkles from his suit. Finally, I grab his arms with a firm grip and meet his eyes. 

     "Relax. Be yourself because at the end of the day, this wouldn't be happening if not for you. No one would be here if not for you. We're all here for you. So, do this because you want to. And if you want to, be you. Forget everyone else." I smile reassuringly, giving his arms another squeeze of comfort. As soon as he nodded, I return back to the side of the photographer. I give him a double thumbs up and a toothy smile that is glowing of encouragement. He chuckles and in the blink of an eye, Mr. Berkshire is back to the cool, calm, and confident man I first met. 

     In an hour, the photographer has hundreds of photos to choose from. After some encouragement from yours truly, Mr. Berkshire eventually fell into a laid back rhythm. His posture in the photos exude confidence, danger, and sex appeal. That is called a job well done. Afterwards we go for celebratory coffee. 

What did you think of this chapter?

I know it's a bit short, but I wanted a chance to develop their closeness a bit more. 

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