"And why am in a swimsuit instead of a dress?" I asked, wishing I could cover myself up.
"We've hired a photographer to take pictures of you with the guests. We thought having you in a swimsuit would make for a better shot. Guys will love it and it fits in better with the bad boy image we're giving the bike."
I wasn't wild about the direction the marketing campaign was taking, but I'd signed a contract and the money was good, so what could I do?
Silently, I took my place, smiling broadly in my swimsuit and stilettos as sweaty men in business suits lined up to get their picture with me and were then assaulted by salesmen eager to make a commission.
It was a miserable way to spend an evening, and I found myself wishing Ethan were there. At least his marketing parties had been fun and him and his entire staff had treated me with dignity. Here, I just felt like a piece of meat.
Suddenly, there was a ruckus at the door, and I turned to see Ethan storming into the room, as if in answer to my wish.
"Kayla! Grab your clothes. I'm taking you the hell out of here!" he called out when he saw me, and the dream-come-true quickly turned into a nightmare.
"What are you doing here?" I gasped, even though I was relieved to see him.
"No, that's my question. How could you take a job working for R.E.B.?"
"What are you talking about? It's a free country. I can work for whoever I want." I was suddenly defending the job I hated.
"Yeah, but you know they're my worst competitor. You shouldn't have agreed to work for them," Ethan fumed, and I could see the betrayal in his rage-filled face. Still, I stood my ground and refused to back down.
"They were the ones offering me the job. I'd finished working for Speed Motorcycles and R.E.B. made me the best offer, so I took it. You can't tell me you wouldn't do the same."
"Yes, I could. Nathan Diehl is a hack, making cheap knock-offs of other designers’ quality bikes, and Jay Wendt is a sleaze and a womanizer. He would have raped you a few weeks ago if I hadn't shown up to stop him."
"I'm a big girl; I can take care of myself. I had Jay handled perfectly fine on my own, even without you, and he hasn't given me an ounce of trouble since. And, if Mr. Diehl is such a bad businessman, why is that he's got you sweating so bad. Obviously, he's good enough at what he does to be number two in the industry. Why don't you admit what's really bothering you?"
"What's that?"
"You don't like it that I'm an independent woman with my own career. You like to be in control and to hold all the power. You have that at work and at home, but you don't have it with my career, and that drives you crazy.
“Well, fuck you, Ethan Colson. When it comes to modeling, I'll do whatever I want. If you don't like it that I'm working for the competition, then you should have Speed Motorcycles make me a better offer. Until then, I'm staying here."
"The hell you are. You're staying at home where you belong. I committed to you and you committed to me, and that means I'm the head of our household and I call the shots."
"What is this, the turn of the century? Being committed to each other means we're equals in our relationship," I insisted, but Ethan shot me a look of pure maliciousness.
"Oh really? And what part of being equals makes it okay for you to insist that I'm open and honest about everything while you keep secrets and do things behind my back?"
There was nothing I could say in response, and my eyes cast down at the floor. Ethan pressed his advantage, shouting out angrily, "You knew it was wrong to take this job, and that's why you hid it. Working for the competition is a betrayal of me as your equal partner, and doing it behind my back is even worse. It's just a different kind of cheating. How can you justify it?"
"I can't," I admitted, and my confession took all the wind out of him. I approached him and took his strong hands in my own. Blinking back tears, I said, "I needed the money. That's the only reason I did it."
"Well, you don't need the money now. I've got more than enough. Just quit and let's go home."
"I can't quit. I'm under contract with R.E.B., and I'm sure you being here right now is already in violation of it. You'd better go and let me finish the job."
"Fuck their contract. I'll just buy you out of it. Give me a number and I'll write the check right now."
"No, I can't do that. It wouldn't be right. It's my contract, my job, and my career."
"And, you’re my girlfriend. I want you to quit. Let's go. I'll have my lawyer settle everything in the morning."
"No, you don't understand. I don't want you to buy my way out of this. It wouldn't be right."
"Of course, it would. I've got the money; I can afford it. In fact, I can afford anything you want. You'll never have to work again."
"But that's just it. I want to work. I've been trying to be a model for years, ever since I was a teenager. I've worked my ass off to get where I am today, and now that my career is finally taking off, my billionaire boyfriend wants me to throw it all away so I can sit back and take advantage of his money.