Through the Lens

by K. K. Allen

  “Desmond.” Maggie’s tone is filled with warning, shattering any fantasy I have of continuing.

  “They’ll go away,” I try.

  “I think it’s Faye.” This time she hisses the words, like someone will be able to hear us.

  But it can’t possibly be Faye. I haven’t heard from her since the dreadful auditions last week. She’d walked out without a word regarding the women she’d just auditioned or what the next plan of action was. I guess I hadn’t pushed either.

  I wince. “She’s either here to let me down gently or to tell me the new plan.” I look over my shoulder and see a figure beyond the glass. There’s no mistaking who the short-haired woman is. I stand and help Maggie up then sigh when I watch her button her sweater. “Why can’t you just be my cohost? You’re already my assistant. It actually makes a lot of sense if you think about it.”

  Maggie bats her bottomless brown eyes up at me, surprised. “I already gave Faye my answer. I can’t go back on that now. But I’ll still be here with you every step of the way. “You still want the show, right?”

  “Want is a pretty strong word, but I need the funding if I’m going to grow this place. The show just seemed like the perfect opportunity.”

  Maggie shrugs, and I can feel her trying to play devil’s advocate. “A better opportunity could come along.”

  I shake my head and sigh. “A better opportunity than a television show? I don’t know, Maggie.”

  She smiles and rises onto her toes then presses a kiss to my lips. “Then stop questioning it. Open the door and talk to the woman. If you need me, I’ll be right here.”

  “Okay,” I whisper against her lips. “Only because you said so.”

  Faye’s smile is bright and wide when I open the door, but something about it makes me feel uneasy. “Nice to see you again, Faye.”

  She laughs. “You say that like you’re surprised to see me. It’s Monday, silly.”

  I twist up my mouth with my confusion. “You didn’t say you’d be back today. In fact, you didn’t say anything at all when you left last week.”

  “Well,” she starts slowly and pointedly. “That’s because I’ve been quite busy working on a contingency plan after that disaster of an audition last week. And I’ve got one.” She searches the room until her smile stops on Maggie. “Hi, Maggie.”

  Maggie waves from the kitchen island. “Hey, Faye.”

  Faye turns back to me. “Well, aren’t you going to invite me in?”

  I gesture for her to come in. She breezes by me and heads straight for the couch I was just making out with Maggie on. I stifle my amusement and take a seat on the chair adjacent to her. “So let’s hear it.” I try to sound chipper to match her mood, but I can’t help but feeling like this whole show idea has run into one brick wall after another.

  Faye lights up like a Christmas tree. “While I was brainstorming in LA, someone at the network gave me a lead on a young actress looking to break into reality television. She’d make a perfect cohost for you, Desmond.”

  The word perfect triggers me to glance over at Maggie. I half-expect her to jump in and demand the role for herself. No such luck. She keeps her head down as she attacks the kitchen island with a scrub brush.

  “What are you suggesting?”

  Faye straightens her shoulders, her businesswoman negotiation posture. “I’m suggesting that I bring her in today, along with a crew, and we start to shoot some tests for the pilot. Get you two comfortable with each other and get you used to the cameras. If all goes well, then we can aim to shoot the pilot tomorrow, starting with a trip to the market.”

  “You want to shoot the pilot tomorrow?”

  “I warned you, I like to move fast.”

  “Haven’t we already been moving fast? Last week you were determined to cast Maggie, and now you’re just going to bring in some random actress?”

  She leans over and places a hand on my thigh, her cleavage spilling out of her low-cut black blouse. My eyes betray me, but I tear them away quickly. What was once a fun flirtation with Faye now just feels wrong.

  “You’ll need to trust me, Desmond. I’ve only got your best interests at heart. You still want this, don’t you?”

  She’s asking me the same question Maggie just asked, and I can’t help but truly think on it now. Sure, the show could do wonders for my kitchen, but do I still want it if we aren’t going about it in a way that I’m comfortable with?

  I swallow before standing up. My eyes flick to Maggie’s for a second, and I almost wish they hadn’t. She should be the one standing next to me during production, but the last thing I want to do is put any kind of pressure on her, especially after all the progress we’ve made. Plus, she’s made it clear that she’s uncomfortable in front of the camera. Just because she’s opened up to me behind closed doors, doesn’t mean she’s ready to do the same for the public.

  Ugh. I feel like there’s a rock in my gut, and not even I am strong enough to move it.

  “Of course I want this,” I finally say to Faye, suddenly feeling completely helpless. “Bring in the crew, then. Let’s do this.”

  33

  Playing the Part

  Maggie

  Desmond is still locked away in his office when Faye’s crew arrives and completely takes over the kitchen. The second Desmond walked out, Faye made a quick phone call and opened the door for them all to start piling in: hair and makeup, wardrobe, director of photography, three different cameramen, lighting crew, audio people, and craft services. The entire scene brings me right back to my modeling days.

  While my nerves are rattling around inside, I’m also trying to be there for Desmond. So when Faye asks me to run and “fetch” her food and flowers from the market, or when she requests that I run and grab an apron for Desmond’s cohost, among various other tasks, I do it with no argument or delay, even though I’m quickly growing more and more worried about Desmond.

  When Faye gets into a deep conversation with the director of photography, I slip into the back room and tap lightly on Desmond’s office door. “It’s me,” I say quietly, hoping my voice is loud enough for him to hear. The last thing I want is for Faye to come back here and start barking out more demands, not until I know where Desmond’s head is at.

  There’s a click of the door, and it opens just enough for me to slip inside. Then Desmond shuts it behind me and leans against the door with a heavy sigh. “Is it over yet?”

  I tilt my head and hug his waist while staring up into his eyes. “No, but I can make her go away if you really want me to.”

  He smiles at that and leans down to press a kiss on my nose. Flutters erupt in my chest, and I just don’t know how we went from mortal enemies to each other’s comfort. I feel like Desmond needs me, and I need him, maybe in ways neither of us have experienced before.

  I blush when I think about the way Desmond took his time with me in every sexual encounter we’ve had so far, always ensuring I came first, always asking me if I was okay after he entered me, and always making sure I was comfortable in any position he wanted to try. I’ve never experienced a gentle giant like Desmond before, and while neither of us are trying to label things, I know for certain that he is not someone I want to let go of anytime soon.

  “Tell me what happened back in LA.” He searches my eyes like it’s his last-ditch effort to understand me. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about your discomfort around a camera. Did someone hurt you?”

  When he asked me to be his cohost earlier, my heart melted, and I almost caved. I wanted to explain everything to him right then and there. About the morning after my fall on the runway, about the creepy producer, about every nagging feeling I’ve had in my heart since I left LA. Maybe then he would understand why dipping my toes back in that world is so hard for me.

  He asked me if I trusted him last night, and I said I did. This is my chance to prove my words and put it all out there.

  While I drum up the courage to tell him my story, I pull him over
to his desk and push him down into his chair before I climb onto his desk to face him. After a long, deep inhale, I release it then forge ahead. “I already told you how modeling was never my dream. I mean, I thought it was, but at some point along the way, I realized I’d never been given a choice. I grew up in front of the camera. It came so naturally. Obeying direction. Revealing just a little bit more skin. Making love to the camera. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the attention or the way looking at those photos made me feel. I felt beautiful and successful, and I worked damn hard at it.”

  He nods, and I squeeze my lids shut before continuing. “So then you were just upset that it was a career chosen for you and not the other way around?”

  “That’s a big part of it. I’ll never know if I would have chosen it myself. I didn’t have any other talents, but then again, I was never given the opportunity to explore.”

  “So that’s why you’re here. To explore.” He looks down and then back up at me. “Does that mean there’s a chance you’ll go back to LA if you figure out modeling is, in fact, what you want?”

  I search his eyes, my heart tugging with his question. “I’ll tell you this much. If I do decide to model again, it won’t be through my old agency or with the photographers I used to work for. I’m tired of being an object through the lens, something sexual they can manipulate to sell their products or business offerings.”

  “Is that how you feel when I take your photo?”

  I shake my head, not needing to think a second about it. “When you take my picture, it’s different. You see me.”

  He places his hands on my thighs and squeezes. “I do, Maggie. It’s why I’m the way I am with you. It’s why I push you and tease you and dig for more. Because I see you, and I want you to see yourself too. You’re worth more than they ever made you believe.”

  “I wish I could believe that. But those photographers weren’t the only ones that made me feel that way.”

  He scrunches his face in question. “Who else?”

  I go on to tell Desmond about my lame attempt to exit modeling through acting and about how I was approached by big-shot Hollywood producer, Regis Malone.

  I swallow, wondering if it will always be this hard to talk about my experience. And then somehow, I manage to tell Desmond about that awful night in Regis’s hotel room when my fantasy turned into a nightmare. My throat is tight as I try to hold back the tears. “On that night, I made a promise to myself to stop looking for my worth through the lens. I came to Seattle to find it.” I shake my head and feel Desmond wrap his arms around my waist.

  “Jesus, Maggie. I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I was embarrassed. I went from being at the top of my game on the runway, with a future in acting, to falling flat on my face—literally and figuratively.”

  Desmond looks up into my eyes, his gaze soft and full of emotion. “That’s where you’re getting it all wrong. Did you ever stop to think that maybe your previously chosen careers weren’t the problem? Maybe it was the people you were surrounding yourself with. When I snap photos of you, you’re no puppet to me. You are your most authentic, vulnerable, and beautiful self. I see you through the lens, Maggie Stevens. I see your heart, I see your soul, and there is nothing to be embarrassed about.”

  Tears drip from my eyes now, and my heart feels incredibly heavy. Desmond and I have come a long way since my first visit to the kitchen. Who would have thought he would manage to mutter the sweetest words anyone has ever said to me?

  “What about you?” I ask in an attempt to lighten the mood by turning the focus on him. “Why did you lock yourself away in here?”

  He groans and places his head in my lap. “I thought this was going to be my chance to show off all the work I’ve put into this place. I’m not comfortable doing that with some actress, who I’m sure is amazing, but she can’t possibly represent my brand. Not when we’ve never even met.”

  I frown, hating that Desmond is feeling this way. This is his moment to shine, and he can’t even enjoy it for a single second. “Maybe you should put a stop to it, then. Tell Faye you need to plan the show together, or it doesn’t happen. I don’t feel comfortable with the fact that she’s not giving you a say at all. This is your kitchen, your baby. Don’t let her walk all over you.”

  Desmond growls and snaps his head up. “God, you’re sexy when you’re bossing me around.”

  My laughter doubles when he grabs my waist and pulls me off the desk and onto his lap. He cups my neck and pulls me down to his mouth for an explosive kiss, one that has me bursting from the inside and melting into him all at once. “This is probably a bad idea.”

  “You think?” He runs a line of kisses down my neck and then to the space between my breasts. “Because I can’t think of anything better than this.”

  He pushes his hips up into me, causing a gasp to slip from my throat. He manages to open my sweater, and his mouth is on my nipple when I realize how hard he’s become between my thighs. Instinct kicks in, and I start to grind against him slowly because I know that’s how Desmond will want to play this. He’ll want to take his time with me until I’ve had more than I can take. Pleasure and pain all blend seamlessly when he’s inside me, bringing me to the ultimate state of bliss.

  “Desmond.” His name is just a breath as I find the perfect friction against him. “You feel so good.”

  He pulls his mouth from mine and peers up at me.

  His eyes are filled with lust, but only for a second. “Damn, you are gorgeous.” His palm slides up to my cheek and cups it softly. “So fucking beautiful.”

  My movements have stilled, so I’m no longer grinding against him, but my breathing only quickens. He has no idea what he’s doing to my heart by saying those words.

  “Do you trust me, Maggie?”

  This time, his question feels heavier than the first time he asked it, and I don’t hesitate for a single beat. “Yes.”

  “Be my cohost. I don’t want to do this with anyone but you.” He searches my eyes with his. “Only you.”

  I’m seriously considering his words because I know that, this time, he’s serious and not just speaking out of fear or stress. Our connection is natural. It always has been, and there’s no way to manufacture something so pure.

  My heart feels like it’s beating a million miles per hour when I settle on his gaze and bite down on my lip before confirming my response with my heart, mind, and soul.

  And then I nod. “Okay, Desmond. I’ll be your cohost. I’ll do it for you.”

  Desmond

  Maggie’s lips are currently pressed against mine. The news she just delivered has me feeling a million times better than I did before walking into my office.

  Then the sound of someone clearing her throat jolts me from my temporary heaven. Maggie tears her mouth from mine and freezes above me. We turn at the same time to see a pissed-off Faye standing in the doorway of my office. Her arms are crossed over her chest and a glare blazes in her eyes.

  “Jesus, Faye,” I yell. “How long have you been standing there?”

  Maggie shuffles off my lap and stands while buttoning up her sweater.

  “Long enough.” Faye’s tone is dripping with disdain, her gaze darting from Maggie to me. “Plan on consulting me first before you replace your cohost?”

  A fire burns in my chest. Clearly, she’s been standing there quite some time. “Like you consulted me before you brought an entire crew to my kitchen?”

  Faye’s jaw drops. “I did that for you. As of last week, we didn’t have a show. Now we’re one step closer, and you want to test your luck bringing in someone new?”

  “I’m not testing anything. Maggie’s the entire reason we agreed on a cohost to begin with. And one week ago you were ready to offer her the part. Why shouldn’t it be her?”

  Faye tilts her head. “Are you forgetting how adamant you were that we not cast Maggie?”

  “She didn’t want it then.”

  Faye lets
out an exasperated sigh looks pointedly at Maggie. “And now?”

  Maggie steps forward. “I’m sorry I wasn’t ready to agree to this last week, but I am now, Faye. For what it’s worth, I believe in this show just as much as you and Desmond.”

  I wrap an arm around her waist and hold her to me. “Maggie is the best one for the role, as you already know. And she wants it. You have to admit, Faye, this is our best option. No”—I suck in a deep breath—“this is our only option.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that if I’m forced to get a cohost to help sell the show, then that cohost needs to be Maggie.”

  The air is still as all goes silent. Faye seems to be considering my words carefully while Maggie grabs my hand. The silence stretches, and it’s only a matter of time until someone breaks it. What I don’t expect is the shrill ring of a phone in the background or the cold chill that runs down my spine.

  Maggie reaches my desk first and grabs it while I maintain my staredown with Faye. I’m the first one to break eye contact when Maggie approaches me and places the phone against my chest. “It’s for you. The man said it’s important, and he wouldn’t let me take a message. I guess he tried your cell phone too. It sounds pretty urgent.”

  My heart is already hammering in my chest when I take the phone from her. There’s only one person who would ever call me on my work phone with important news. With my gaze locked on hers in a silent plea for her to stay put, I put the phone to my ear. “This is Desmond.”

  “Hey, Desmond. It’s Mick.” The familiar voice of my father’s case worker is too somber, too apologetic. It’s enough to chill my bones. “Sorry to bother you at work, but it’s important.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut, preparing myself for the worst possible news. It’s not the first time I’ve felt this way when Mick has called, but something in my chest tells me it might be the last. “Hey,” I finally say.