“Get out of here, you sorry excuse for a man!” I’m standing in his perfect lobby, which is just as posh as mine, but instead of rich red accents, his are blue. He has his consultation table in the same spot as mine, with huge pictures of brides in Time Square and by Saint Pat’s Cathedral, just like I do. I notice the new floral arrangements with peacock feathers, and I’m ready to explode. When did he copy those?
My eyes drift over to the little table he has set up with albums on it. Last month, I met a new vendor that provides these beautiful albums for my boudoir clients. The albums have sequins, supple leather, and feel perfect under your fingertips. I see one glinting from behind a wedding album on his table. Wide-eyed, I step toward it and lift the little book with shaking hands.
Nick appears from the back and shakes his head slowly. “Sky Thompson, what can I do for you?” Nick has dark, perfectly tousled hair that falls over his forehead, right above gem-colored blue eyes. Today, he’s wearing a designer white button-down shirt with jeans. There’s a chunky watch on his wrist that cost more than my net worth. He’s beautiful, cocky, and rich. His voice is like a siren’s song, and he completely and totally sucks rabid monkeys—a spoiled brat to the core.
Anger surges through me, as I look up at him. “What’d you do to land the Getty wedding? Offer to pose with her in the boudoir pictures?” Oh my god. Nick has the audacity to smile while I’m ranting. He tries to hide it, but I can see the amusement in his eyes. I shove a finger into his chest and continue raving. “Because there’s no way you could get that client on your own, you pampered ass!”
Nick looks like he’s biting the inside of his mouth to keep from laughing. I’m right in front of him and seriously consider kicking his shins. Every muscle in my body is strung so tight that I’m ready to explode. I’m practically vibrating—until I see Beverly Getty emerge from the back room, followed by her daughter and husband. Awh, suck.
I deflate as I see the livid look on Beverly’s face. She told me that she’d be sending a check today, but she’s in Nick’s studio instead. I don’t get it, and from the look on her face, she doesn’t plan to elaborate. “What did you say about my daughter? Or was your crass comment directed at me, Miss Thompson?”
What the fuckery? Seriously, I never blow off steam! I never tell anyone that they suck and the one time I do, it bites me on the ass. My lips tug into a nervous smile and I have that weird feeling where I don’t know what to do with my hands. I grab my pointer finger and try to patch things up, like I didn’t just eat my foot. No, I swallowed my whole damn leg and half my ass. There’s no way to make this right. “Mrs. Getty, I didn’t mean to imply—”
“You didn’t imply anything, dear. And if you must know, we found Nick to be much more easygoing. A wedding is stressful enough and I didn’t want anything else to make my Tiffany anxious. I see I chose well and I’ll make sure that everyone knows how you really behave.”
Nick glances between us before putting a hand on Beverly’s shoulder. “Sky wouldn’t have ruined your daughter’s wedding. She’s a very capable photographer. The truth is, she only gets twitchy like this when she forgets her meds. It could happen to anyone.” Beverly Getty gives me a second look, like she can now see my obvious mental defect.
“Go back and grab a chai tea from the Keurig. I’ll get those new albums I mentioned.” He looks up at me and grins. “On your way, Sky. Or would you prefer I call Amy to fetch you?” He says it so sweetly, as if he’s helping me.
Not meaning to, I clutch my hands tightly and growl before I turn on my heel and storm out. As the door closes behind me, I hear Nick saying to the Gettys, “Don’t worry, she’s not dangerous.”
CHAPTER 2
Amy is standing in the doorway when I get back. My eyes are stinging and I want to cry. I go straight into the back and she trails behind me like a faithful puppy. “Sky, what happened? It can’t be that bad!”
“I called Tiffany Getty a slut and suggested that the only reason they signed with Nick was to touch his naked chest!” I’m sniffling hard, trying not to cry—not before I find the tissue box. I head over to the prop shelves and start digging around. A crate of plastic apples topples off the shelf, onto the floor, spilling apples in every direction.
“Well, that’s not that bad.” She has a quizzical tone to her voice that tells me she doesn’t understand.
“The Gettys were there! All three of them walked out from the back of his shop. Her dad looked like he wanted to slit my throat and toss me into the canal.”
Amy averts her eyes. “Oh, well, yeah. That’s kinda bad.”
I find the little tissue box and sink to the floor. “That’s not the worst part. Nick told them that I’m usually fine—that I only get like this when I forget my meds. So I went from being a bitch to being crazy!” Holding the tissue over my face, I take a deep breath. I need to calm down, but I can’t.