The hairdresser pauses as if she’s suddenly unsure if she should keep going or not. I sigh with disappointment. I was planning on having the better part of my day occupied. Luka might be at work, but just being in the penthouse right now makes me antsy. I’m about to tell the hairdresser just to pull my half-finished hair into a ponytail when I have a brilliant idea.
It’s a good idea, too. One that will send Luka straight over the edge.
He thinks he can cavort around with Monica Shore? Payback’s a bitch.
“Wait—Cyrus? I think I may have a solution for you.”
I pull out my cell and flip through some pictures until I find just the right one. Then I hand him my phone. “Scroll right. That entire folder is all him. Is this the look you wanted?”
Mateo shines in the images, his cut and sculpted body perfectly photographed. He sends me pictures whenever he does a photoshoot and I’ve saved them, just to compare how much he’s worked his way up into some stunning gigs.
Cyrus goes through all the pictures, nodding the whole time. “I know Mateo. Well—I knowofhim. Haven’t had the pleasure of working with him, though.” He doesn’t smile, but when he looks up at me, his eyes light up. “What makes you think he’s available last minute?”
“He’s my best friend,” I brag. “And when I talked to him this morning, he said he was going to be really busy today binge-watching90 Day Fiancéand cleaning out the refrigerator.”
Cyrus grins, tossing me the phone. “Then get him over here. If you please.”
With a little squeal, I dial Mateo. He answers on the second ring, another indication he’s literally doing nothing with his time right now.
“Hey babe,” he says, sounding bored.
“Hey you. Want to come out and be my dirty billionaire?”
He laughs. “I have no idea what that means, but yes. Give me the deets.”
I knew I could count on Mateo. He’s always ready to steam it up with me, and that’s exactly what I need.
After I explain what’s going on and text him the address, I have to struggle to sit still as my makeup is completed. I’ve just stripped from my clothes and put on a white robe when he bursts into the room. We embrace and my heart fills with joy at seeing him. I needed this. Mateo grounds me, supports me, and always reminds me that pain and heartbreak are temporary.
“You’re a lifesaver,” I tell him, pulling back. “I owe you.”
“That you do. Gonna be a while before I get a chance to cash it in, though. That gig in LA starts next week, and they want me to fly in sooner than I thought. Looks like I’m gonna be back on the West Coast for the next six months or so.”
My stomach drops. “Six months? Jesus, Mat. When you said long-term, I thought you meant a few weeks!”
“We’ll call, we’ll FaceTime, it’ll be like I never left,” he soothes. “It’s just a few mon—”
“Mateo! The man, the myth, the legend,” Cyrus interrupts, extending a hand.
Mateo shakes with the photographer, grinning. “Pleasure to meet you, finally.”
They exchange some more industry small talk, then get down to the details of today’s business. I’m still reeling from the revelation that my best friend is about spend the next half-year in a city thousands of miles away from me, and the timing couldn’t be any worse.
Before I can grab Mateo back, Cyrus and the assistant walk him over to the set and ask him to take off his shirt. Mateo complies, whipping off his tee shirt with a flourish and then stripping down to his boxer shorts for good measure. He’s never been shy about nudity, that boy.
Man, he’s cut. His skin is tanned to a golden brown and smooth, and the time he puts in at the gym shows. I’m glad he’s here. Not as a friend, but as Luka’s nemesis. I don’t want my bestie right now. I want the hot, sexy, strong male side of Mateo. And I want him to wrap me up in all that sex appeal, so we look like the hottest couple to ever grace a magazine page.
I’m pissed at Luka and upset that Mateo’s leaving Chicago. It feels like my life is falling apart. All I can do is pour all the fire and feelings of overwhelm into this photo shoot and dream about drowning my emotions in wine and chocolate later.
“…comfortable with that, Brooklyn?” Cyrus is saying.
I’ve totally zoned out, but I flash a smile and nod. “Perfectly.”
Cyrus goes on, “If it gets too intimate at any point, or you’re out of your comfort zone, I want both of you to feel safe calling for a pause or suggesting an alternate position, okay?”
“I don’t think we’ll have any issues,” Mateo says with a grin.
He’s right about that. In fact, I want him to practically fuck me in front of the lens—or at least, make everyone who sees these imagesthinkthat’s what happened. It won’t just be the position of our bodies, either. It will be the way he looks at me. Touches me. And the way I touch him back. Like he’s the only man in my life. Eat your heart out, Luka Zoric.