Vain - Part Two (The Vain Series Book 2) Read Online Free Page B
Author: Deborah Bladon
towards her. "You two should get on top of that tonight. Or you could get on top. Or whatever the hell boring, old, married couples do when they get it on."
"I like it from behind."
"Gross, Sadie." I pull my hands to cover my ears. "Never tell me again what you and Hunter do in bed. TMI."
She pulls her hand to cover her mouth as she lets out a series of high pitched giggles. "If you're not pregnant, what then?"
"Promise first." I stick out my pinky finger, reverting back to when we were eight-years-old and would pinky swear. "Promise you're not going to go crazy when I tell you this."
She loops her small finger through mine and nods her chin. "I promise."
"I'm sleeping with Noah Foster." I blurt the words out in a frenzied rush.
"Oh that?" She leans back in her chair, placing her hands on her lap. "I thought you were."
"What?" I shake my head wondering if I'm hearing her right. "You knew?"
"He kept calling here asking for you to bring him a sandwich." She raises one brow, "Bernie told me Noah hates sandwiches and only orders them so he can chat with Bernie."
I sit in stunned silence. When did she figure it out and why the hell didn't she tell me she had? "Why didn't you say something?"
"Like what?" She shrugs. "He's a recluse. He probably made you sign something that says you can't talk about him. I read online that he does that."
"You read online that he makes his lovers sign things?" I parrot back, hoping that she doesn't see the truth within the words when I say them.
"Or his models." She sighs." Something like that. I'm just glad you're not one of them."
"One of who?" I ask, already knowing what her answer will be.
"At least you never modeled for him." She pushes her chair back from the table. "The last thing a teacher needs is naked pictures of herself floating around."
Chapter 7
"Why were those women's faces showing in the gallery photographs?" I take a sip of the coffee I brought with me to Noah's apartment. "You told me that you never take pictures of faces."
He pulls the plastic lid off his cup and blows on it. "I told you that I don't photograph faces. I don't." He takes a small taste from the cup. "I photograph women's bodies and sometimes a part of their face becomes vital to the story the image is telling."
"Your contract says you can't publically show any part of the woman's face," I push. That point has eaten at me since I saw the photographs on display in the gallery. I was horrified when I thought he broke our contract to show my face. He must have to deal with the legal and emotional ramifications of showing all those women's faces.
"No." The word is steady and clipped.
"No?" I repeat back. "I can show you my contract. It clearly says that." I know that fact without any reservation since I've read my contract repeatedly. Sadie's words about Noah photographing me have been haunting me. When we stop sleeping together he'll still own the rights to the pictures he took of me. I have to be certain that he can't ever show my face to anyone.
"Your contract says that," he corrects me. "The women in the gallery had a much different contract than you."
My chin lifts at the confession. "What? Why?"
He moves to place the paper cup onto the coffee table. "Do you remember the night we met?"
I nod my head while I examine his face waiting for him to continue.
"When you first got here I thought you were an escort." He rubs the back of his neck with his right hand, causing his bicep to flex. He's stunning. I have to put in effort to pull my gaze from his body back to his face.
"I remember," I chuckle. "You wanted to know how much."
"I had a contract ready that night. I always do when I call for a girl…" he stops himself, pulling his tongue across his bottom lip before he continues. "I always did when I called for a girl. I haven't called for one in weeks."
I take comfort in the tender confession. We've never spoken of the litany of call girls who have graced this apartment. I'm not naïve
"I like it from behind."
"Gross, Sadie." I pull my hands to cover my ears. "Never tell me again what you and Hunter do in bed. TMI."
She pulls her hand to cover her mouth as she lets out a series of high pitched giggles. "If you're not pregnant, what then?"
"Promise first." I stick out my pinky finger, reverting back to when we were eight-years-old and would pinky swear. "Promise you're not going to go crazy when I tell you this."
She loops her small finger through mine and nods her chin. "I promise."
"I'm sleeping with Noah Foster." I blurt the words out in a frenzied rush.
"Oh that?" She leans back in her chair, placing her hands on her lap. "I thought you were."
"What?" I shake my head wondering if I'm hearing her right. "You knew?"
"He kept calling here asking for you to bring him a sandwich." She raises one brow, "Bernie told me Noah hates sandwiches and only orders them so he can chat with Bernie."
I sit in stunned silence. When did she figure it out and why the hell didn't she tell me she had? "Why didn't you say something?"
"Like what?" She shrugs. "He's a recluse. He probably made you sign something that says you can't talk about him. I read online that he does that."
"You read online that he makes his lovers sign things?" I parrot back, hoping that she doesn't see the truth within the words when I say them.
"Or his models." She sighs." Something like that. I'm just glad you're not one of them."
"One of who?" I ask, already knowing what her answer will be.
"At least you never modeled for him." She pushes her chair back from the table. "The last thing a teacher needs is naked pictures of herself floating around."
Chapter 7
"Why were those women's faces showing in the gallery photographs?" I take a sip of the coffee I brought with me to Noah's apartment. "You told me that you never take pictures of faces."
He pulls the plastic lid off his cup and blows on it. "I told you that I don't photograph faces. I don't." He takes a small taste from the cup. "I photograph women's bodies and sometimes a part of their face becomes vital to the story the image is telling."
"Your contract says you can't publically show any part of the woman's face," I push. That point has eaten at me since I saw the photographs on display in the gallery. I was horrified when I thought he broke our contract to show my face. He must have to deal with the legal and emotional ramifications of showing all those women's faces.
"No." The word is steady and clipped.
"No?" I repeat back. "I can show you my contract. It clearly says that." I know that fact without any reservation since I've read my contract repeatedly. Sadie's words about Noah photographing me have been haunting me. When we stop sleeping together he'll still own the rights to the pictures he took of me. I have to be certain that he can't ever show my face to anyone.
"Your contract says that," he corrects me. "The women in the gallery had a much different contract than you."
My chin lifts at the confession. "What? Why?"
He moves to place the paper cup onto the coffee table. "Do you remember the night we met?"
I nod my head while I examine his face waiting for him to continue.
"When you first got here I thought you were an escort." He rubs the back of his neck with his right hand, causing his bicep to flex. He's stunning. I have to put in effort to pull my gaze from his body back to his face.
"I remember," I chuckle. "You wanted to know how much."
"I had a contract ready that night. I always do when I call for a girl…" he stops himself, pulling his tongue across his bottom lip before he continues. "I always did when I called for a girl. I haven't called for one in weeks."
I take comfort in the tender confession. We've never spoken of the litany of call girls who have graced this apartment. I'm not naïve
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