Broken Beast

I raise a brow, daring her.

"I, uh… I do need to brush my teeth. And drink a lot of coffee. But after… I have to choose art."

"It's Sunday."

"Even so." She plays with the edges of her pajama top. "Did you eat?"

"Not yet."

"Well, we have to do that. And after, there might be time for art and sex."

"Might?"

She nods. "After you approve a photo." She kisses me on the cheek. "This is my only card. I have to play it at the right time."

It's not.

She can get anything she wants if she says my name in that needy, breathy tone.

But she doesn't realize it.

"I'll meet you downstairs." She runs her fingers over my chin.

I don't flinch this time.

That's progress.

Danielle notices. She smiles, runs her fingers over my chin again. Releases me and slips into the bathroom.

Still, I wait until the water is running to remove my robe.

This is an old house. There's only one mirror here, a standing floor length thing in the corner.

My eyes go there instantly.

Scars.

Only scars.

Jagged pink lines on my face.

Then darker, deeper ones on my shoulders, chest, stomach.

Would she see them as beautiful?

Would she still want me?

Or would she see every ugly deed in my heart?

I don't know.

I want to show her.

I want to trust her.

I want to feel her soft skin against mine.

But I can't. Not yet.

I finish drying, then I slip into a suit. Something familiar and comfortable.

Something that turns her on.

That isn't why.

But it feels good to believe it, at least for a second.

It feels good to believe I'm capable of loving her and accepting her love in return.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Adam

Trish nearly doubles over when she sees me at the dining table.

"Adam, it's lovely to have you and Danielle here together." She beams as she pours coffee. Insists on making a special meal.

Coffee. An omelet with fresh herbs and goat cheese. Roasted potatoes. Bacon. Sliced strawberries.

Danielle groans over every bite.

I ask her about her plans for the photo shoot. She's still nervous about going public with her art. Especially about asking her old boss to show her photos.

But there's excitement in every word she says.

She gushes through all of breakfast and a second cup of coffee. "I have preliminary photos, if you're ready to see them."

Fuck, what a question.

Am I ready to see photos of my hand between her legs?

Of my scars on display?

A normal headshot, maybe. But it's hard to envision anything else.

I'm not ready. I don't know how I'll ever be ready. Only that I want to get there. "Yes."

Her expression brightens. It fills the entire house with light.

She's so fucking beautiful.

Warm, protective, passionate.

I need her in my life.

Not just for this ruse.

Because I need her.

The thought overwhelms me. I need her. I don't know how to keep her. I don't know if I can keep her.

Is that love?

Choosing what's best for her over what's best for me?

Or am I thinking with my cock?

I follow her to her room. She sits at her desk. Opens her laptop. Pulls up a folder of photos.

"Best to worst?" she asks. "Or worst to best?"

"Which is best?"

"The explicit photos," she says.

"Those last. Or we won't get to the others."

Her fingers curl into her thighs. She lets out a soft sigh. "Okay. Then this… these are for you. I'd love to show them, but I meant what I said. You have final approval of any image you're in." She takes the laptop to the bed. Sits next to me. Pulls up a photo.

One of the first images we took, a silhouette against the window, my back to the camera, my posture stiff.

She looks to me for approval. When I nod, she moves to the next.

My forearms, as I roll my hands up my sleeves.

My watch on the desk.

A headshot of me looking out the window.

My face is in profile. It's clearly me. Clearly Adam Pierce. But the unmarked side. The man, not the monster.

Then the next.

Me, looking at the camera, at Danielle, like I'm thinking of all the ways I'm going to fuck her.

Straight on.

My expression as revealing as my scars.

It steals my breath.

"I promised to keep you anonymous," she says. "And I will. The photos I want to show are all anonymous."

"You don't want people to know it's me?"

"Isn't that what you want?"

I did. I do. How could I walk into a gallery and see people staring at my face? I'd crumble.

"It's not just you. I'm cropping everything at the nose. People will suspect it's us. Especially me. But they won't be sure."

Of course.

"And well, there are a lot of well-built models who can wear a suit." She laughs. "People will wonder if it's you once we announce our engagement. But they won't be sure."

"Is that what you want?"

"I haven't considered anything else." Her eyes meet mine. "The final pictures are… let me show you."

"They're beautiful."

"Thank you."

"I look human."