7

The photo studio was packed; ring lights set, cameras flashing, stylists running around, adjusting clothes. I stood near the wardrobe section, making sure the dresses were perfect for today’s photoshoot. This was my first collaboration with West Modeling Agency, and I wanted everything to go smoothly.

Just then, Maria, my manager rushed up breathless.

"What's wrong." I asked, cutting a loose thread from a blue satin gown.

"Lena's stuck in traffic. There's no one to model the final look."

I didn't even blink. "I'II wear it."

"But..."

"I said I’ll wear it."

Minutes later, I was behind a curtain, squeezing into the tightest red carpet gown I’d ever designed. The zipper was halfway up and stuck. I twisted my arm, tugging harder, but it wouldn’t budge.

"Shit," I muttered under my breath, feeling the pressure. We barely had any time left.

I held my breath, tried again... but it still wouldn’t move. "Maria, can you help me with the zipper?"

A few minutes later, Maria walked over, and started struggling with the zip, only that her hands were too strong, and her connection with my skin sent electric current through my entire body. Uncomfortable, I opened my eyes and stared at the mirror, but I didn't see Maria. Instead, I saw Jace standing behind me.

"Mr. Weston," I snapped, my face flushing. "Do you follow me around now?"

He shrugged, "Thought girls liked that shit."

I folded my hands into fists, fighting the urge to punch the smug grin from his face. "Mr. Weston, if you don’t get out of here right now, I swear I’ll raise an alarm."

"Chill, alright? No need to be dramatic. Besides, Maria isn’t around, and you called for help."

My blood boiled. How could he make me feel this annoyed so easily? Then, "You must be on something strong if you think I’ll let you touch me."

He sighed. "Are you done yet?"

I stared, confused.

"Great. Now turn around," he demanded, his tone serious.

"Are you deaf? You’re not touching me, so go call a lady to help me with the zipper."

He smirked. "You’re crazy, Elsa. Now turn around. We don’t have all day."

Someone outside called, "Two minutes left!"

Clenching my jaw, I turned. His fingers brushed my back, sending flutters in my belly, as electric current shot through me, and slowly, he pulled the zipper up.

"There," he murmured, his voice low. "Now you don’t have to worry about flashing anyone."

A photographer called, "We’re ready! Bring her in!"

I stepped onto the set, my heels sounding against the tiled floor. Cameras from all angles flashed as I posed, hands on my waist, a smile plastered on my face.

But then, without warning, Jace came into frame, his hand tightening around my waist, his body too close.

"What the hell are you doing?" I hissed under my breath.

"Relax," he said smoothly, his gaze never leaving the camera. "This is for the press."

I shoved lightly at his chest. "Get off me."

"You’re welcome."

I glared at him. "For what?"

He leaned in, his lips brushing my ear. "You really want your zipper to fall in front of thirty cameras?"

I stared at him, my brows furrowed together.

"Miss Elsa," one of the photographers called, snapping my attention back.

I smiled, forcing another picture, his hand still on my waist, then another, and another.

"That’s a wrap!" the photographer yelled.

The crew began clearing out, the lights dimming, but his hands remained firmly on my waist.

"Must you always touch me?" I snapped, trying to pull away. "Seriously, get your hands off."

"Fine, I will," he said casually, releasing his grip. "Just know I was holding you that tight to protect my company’s image."

I stared at him, still reeling. "Excuse me?"

He didn’t respond. He simply let go of me, and in one swift motion, my zipper slipped.

The dress fell, leaving me standing there, frozen, in nothing but my heels... Jace didn’t flinch. He didn’t even look away.