I need your help...

CHAPTER FOUR

ELENA’S POV

The deadline for the House of Mugler Halloween poster was sitting on my head like a countdown to my life.

I sat on the floor of my new apartment surrounded by prints and my laptop, rubbing my tired eyes. The campaign needed one more strong male lead shot.

One that would serve as the centerpiece. Everything or everyone else I had seen was good, but it wasn’t ‘great’. None of them felt powerful enough to carry the powerful and dangerous ambiance I was in dire need of. And the campaign was just a day away.

I sighed and lay back flat on the cold floor, in that instance my mind drifted back to Marcus.

He had a well carved jawline and the way his shoulders filled out a shirt, had the masculinity I needed. The subtle intensity that his eyes carried was also perfect.

Plus he had offered to model for me and right now, I was desperate.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I got up, walked across the hall and knocked on his door.

He opened it wearing a black t-shirt and grey sweatpants, looking unfairly good for someone who was probably just relaxing at home. His eyes softened when they landed on me.

“Elena.”

“Hey… I know this is sudden, but you said I could ask anytime.” I shifted on my feet. “I’m in a really tight spot with a campaign. Would you be willing to model for me? Just for an hour or two?”

Marcus didn’t even hesitate. “Come on in.”

His apartment was sleek and minimalist. It had darker color tones, with expensive looking leather furniture, and tall glass windows that would portray a perfect view of the neighborhood at night. His apartment smelled faintly of sandalwood and him. He cleared a wide open space near the windows where the natural light was perfect.

I set up my lights and tripod quickly, I could feel my nerves fraying under my skin but I forced myself to focus. When he stepped in front of the camera and rolled his shoulders back, I genuinely forgot how to breathe for a minute.

This man was drop dead gorgeous.

“Anywhere you want me,” he said in a low voice that almost sounded seductive.

I bit my lip and got to work immediately. The next hour passed in a very heated blur.

I directed him softly at first, then more confidently as he followed every instruction perfectly. He didn’t just pose—he became The Shot.

His stares were intense, his slight head tilts looked majestic and the way his muscles shifted when I asked him to loosen a button or roll up his sleeves was just….captivating.

“Turn slightly to your left… yes, just like that.” My voice came out breathier than I intended.

Marcus’s eyes locked on mine through the lens and I bit on my lip even harder. It felt like he was staring straight at me, not the camera. I felt my face heat up from my neck and every click of the shutter seemed louder than the last.

“Unbutton one more,” I said, swallowing hard.

He did it slowly, never taking his eyes off me. The tension in the room could choke anybody that walked in right now and at some point I wondered how I hadn’t turned into a puddle yet.

I moved closer to adjust the angle, and his hand brushed my waist as I passed. The touch was light, almost accidental, but it sent electricity shooting through me.

“You’re really good at this,” I murmured, trying to stay professional.

“You make it easy,” he replied calmly. “The way you look at me through that lens, it’s….enticing, Elena.”

I froze for a second, with my heart pounding like a talking drum, then forced a small laugh and stepped back. “Don’t distract the photographer.”

But he was right. I was affected. Badly.

We finished just as the golden hour light began to fade. I went through the shots on my laptop while he brought me a glass of water. And I went absolutely berserk. These were freaking perfect.

They were raw, magnetic and exactly what the campaign poster needed.

“Marcus…these are incredible,” I whispered, genuinely in awe. “Thank you. I think I just saved my campaign because of you.”

He leaned over my shoulder, close enough that I felt the heat from his body. “Anytime. I mean it.”

I looked up at him. For a moment, neither of us moved. The air felt charged and his gaze dropped to my lips for a split second before returning to my eyes.

I cleared my throat and stood up quickly. “I should let you rest. Again, thank you.”

He walked me to his door, with a small smile playing on his lips. “You looked happy today, Elena. Really happy.”

I smiled back and the warmth from the time I spent with him spread through my chest as I returned to my apartment.

After sending the final shots to the client and receiving an ecstatic reply confirming the campaign was approved, I collapsed onto my couch with a relieved laugh. For the first time in forever, things felt like they were turning around for my good.

I picked up my phone to text Jade the good news, I even sent some of the photos I took to her and she was just as dumbstruck as I was.

“Oh my God gurlllll, you ate, he ate, you both ate. You guys suit each other so well. You sure he’s not gonna be your next potential boyfriend and maybe husband. I see a lot of vision for you two” She texted.

I chuckled and texted back, “I haven’t finished recovering fromMike’s trauma and now you want to ship mr with another handsome hunk. No can’t do love.”

“Point of correction, he’s a better looking handsome hunk, like way better than Mike. But okay if you say so, I’ll be here if you need advice on how to swoon him right.” She texted back, with a cheeky emoji.

“Sure thing, fairy Godmother.” I replied and absentmindedly opened my I*******m DMs.

A new message waited at the top.

ShadowWatch92: “You looked happy today.”

My smile vanished instantly and the phone slipped from my fingers onto the cushion. I had heard those exact same words earlier in the day. But where?

I sat up slowly, my brain running backwards through the hours. The studio. The client's approval. The photoshoot. Marcus at his door, watching me leave with that smile.

"You looked happy today, Elena. Really happy."

The room suddenly felt smaller. I picked my phone back up with fingers that weren't entirely steady. Those were the same words. The exact same words.

It was probably a coincidence. It had to be. Marcus was just a neighbor who was kind enough to help me move and patient enough to model for a campaign on zero notice.

But the messages had stopped the day I met him. And now this one arrived the same evening I spent two hours alone in his apartment.

I stared at the ceiling for a long time before I could convince myself to sleep.