Chapter 2

            Dean lifted his blue eyes over the camera and locked eyes with Naomi Campbell, whose naked body was slung dramatically over a chair.  They were four hours into what was originally intended to be a two hour photo shoot for Harper’s Bazaar.  In most cases, Naomi would have tossed her weave—making sure it strategically slapped the photographer in the face in the process, and strutted out of there an hour ago.  Naomi, however, was no fool and even a powerhouse model like her knew not to step on Dean Delucia’s toes.  She’d seen what happened to the models that got on his bad side… they were never heard from again.

            Dean was sitting on the floor with his long legs stretched out in front of him, back arched, squinting in concentration behind the lens of his camera.  “Beautiful, Naomi, absolutely stunning… but I need more innocence.”  Dean looked up from the camera and made a claw with his hands. “You’re a woman externally but inside you’re just a little lost.  Do you understand what I’m saying?  You don’t know the way of the world just yet but that doesn’t mean you don’t fuck… and moan… and cum. Sexy innocence.  Innocence!

            “If you say the word innocence to me one more time…” Naomi muttered under her breath, about ready to kill him as she moved into a different pose under the bright lights.  She wanted to please him but her patience was wearing very thin.  When Dean looked up at her from behind his camera in exasperation she hated him a little bit.  “Oh, Dean… whatever angel you’re tugging it to at night, I ain’t her."

            Dean glared at her even though he knew she was right.  He wasn’t even sure he knew what the hell he was looking for. “Let’s take ten, all right?” He asked, placing his camera between his legs and massaging his forehead.  Naomi had just hit the nail a little too close to the head and now he needed a break. His mind was now affecting his work.  Was it that obvious that he’d been completely robbed of his sanity since the moment he’d kicked Sloan out of his place? Apparently it was.

When the distinct smell of cigarette smoke filled his lungs his body almost seized up on him at the beautiful, delicious scent. Naomi, her make-up artist and her manager had all lit up and were chatting quietly.

            “Can you take those outside?”  Dean barked, chewing on the nicotine gum in his mouth furiously.

            All three of them looked at him like he had two heads.  “Seriously?” Naomi raised an eyebrow.

            Dean looked up at her from where he still sat on the floor, fiddling with his camera. “Yeah, seriously.”

“Bloody hell.”  She spat quietly leading the way to the open door of the balcony.

Dean waited for them all leave the room and go out onto his balcony to smoke, but the scent still lingered.  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of Marlboros and a half empty box of Nicotine gum.  Rubbing them together between his fingers he had an internal battle, cursed himself, and threw another piece of gum in his mouth while submerging the pack of cigarettes he hadn’t touched in three days back in his pocket.  He chewed the gum violently.  It tasted like mint-flavored death.

            Leaning over on the floor he grabbed a bottle of water that had been rolling around and drank it to the bottom. He had gotten the shots he needed hours ago since Naomi was always a quick shoot, but today was different.  His mind was somewhere else and his photos always were a direct reflection of his wild mind.  Though Naomi was a very capable model he knew she could never be able to give him what he wanted.

            He had done the right thing in kicking Sloan out of his apartment, but for the past three days he couldn’t get the woman out of his mind. The image of her standing at his front door, her long black hair tousled from the asthma attack she’d just had falling into her large eyes.  As she walked away from him in defeat she’d tripped over her own feet on her way to the elevator and it was everything he could do not to call the whole thing off and tell her to come back. Five minutes later he’d gone down to the lobby. To do what, he wasn’t sure. A doorman who’d apparently been his doorman for five years said, “She’s already gone.”

            She’s already gone.

Apart of him hoped that she had gone back to where ever she’d come from.  He’d worked in the fashion industry for over a decade and he knew that Sloan would have crumbled under the immense pressure. He didn’t want to be responsible for her losing whatever it was she had inside of her that made her shine so bright.  It would have only been a matter of time before he tried to take some of her light for himself.  

He wondered if she’d ever been touched by a man.  If she had any idea what it was like to fuck and moan and cum… as he’d directed Naomi earlier.  For some reason, he had a feeling that she wasn’t nearly as innocent in the bedroom as she was everywhere else. He ached to touch her, again. To teach her.  To see her.

            “For god’s sake, Dean.”  He grumbled to himself just as Naomi came strutting back with a scarf wrapped around her neck.

            Dean stared at her open mouthed and unable to decide if he was amused or angry at the sight of Naomi with Sloan’s scarf, which he hadn’t yet found the heart to burn, wrapped around her neck.

Naomi was giggling as she arrived with the scarf she’d found slung over a chair. “They’re just getting younger and younger aren’t they Dean?”  Naomi wrapped the horrible purple scarf around her neck dramatically and rubbed the fringed tail of it against her cheek. “How old was this one?  Eighteen?  Ninteen?” She brought it to her nose and sniffed softly, recognizing the scent ‘Love Spell’ from a mile away. “Victoria’s Secret? Tell me the little tart was legal.”

            Dean fought the urge to get up and snatch the scarf from around her neck. Instead, he raised the camera to his face and began photographing her, eventually standing up and making his way closer.  At first Naomi was confused, then she went into model mode, thrilled that Dean was finally seeing something he liked, and began posing as if her life depended on it.  Her eyes jumped out and gripped the camera lens as she ran the scarf through her fingers. 

            “Beautiful.”  Dean whispered.

            Namoi threw her head back and asked in mid pose.  “You like this scarf?”

            Dean adjusted the camera and continued shooting. “Of course not.”         

            Naomi laughed her agreement, then tilted her head forward and gave him a flirty look. “So why are you holding onto it, then?”

            Dean wished he had an answer for her, maybe then he would have an answer for himself. He watched her closely as he chewed on the gum in his mouth which had now lost all flavor. “I don’t know.”

            --

“I will never be a supermodel.”

            “Sloan… your negativity is seeping through the phone and ruining my day all the way over here in Georgia. Perk up!” Sloan’s little sister, Ashley, had been on the phone with her for the past four hours in an attempt to cheer her up.

            Sloan sat cross legged in the middle of the softest, largest bed she’d ever sat in and pondered just how heartbroken she was going to be when the hotel she’d been staying in all week kicked her out on her ass in exactly 72 hours.  Her father had said he would foot the hotel bill for a week and not a second longer.  She didn’t have the heart to ask him for an extension since the unfortunate incident with Dean Delucia. 

At the very thought of his name anger froze her to her bones so thoroughly that she had to close her eyes, willing herself to be patient.  Do not let an angry man ruin everything you’ve ever dreamed of, she said to herself.  Somewhere in Georgia, her sister was rambling on as Sloan covered the mouthpiece on the phone and spoke to the room service attendant who had been quietly setting up her breakfast on the table across the room.

            “How seriously do you take your coffee?” Sloan asked the young man curiously.

            The cute African-American waiter seemed surprised that she’d spoken to him, and stood tall when she did.  He thought about her question, then made a confused face. “My coffee?” He asked.

            “Yeah.” Sloan said, curtly.  “Like on a scale of one to ten if you didn’t have your daily cup of coffee… how serious would that be to you?”

            His eyes widened as if she’d just told him the world was going to end. “Very serious.”

            Sloan’s face fell.  Wrong answer.  “Scale of one to ten.” She demanded.

            His eyes narrowed and a small smile crossed his face.  “Like a fifteen.”

            He suddenly wasn’t so cute.  He suddenly reminded her of a certain asshole photographer who had squashed her dreams just three days earlier.  “Get out.” She spoke.          

            The waiter was stunned. “Ex… Excuse me?” 

            “Get out.” She said, again, with an eerie calmness to her voice.

            The waiter hesitated, walked to the door, hesitated again, then hurried out.

            Sloan waited until he was gone to take her hand off of the mouthpiece.  Her sister was still rambling on, oblivious to the fact that Sloan had been carrying on an entire conversation with someone else.

            “What did Dean look like?” Ashley asked.

            Sloan rolled her eyes. “He had the nerve to be fine. Breathtakingly fine.”

            “Damn, like that, sis? Breathtaking?”

            “Like he stepped right out of a magazine.  Black hair, blue eyes, that perma-frown that most cute guys have on their faces.  You know what I’m talking about.  Like they know they’re hot shit so they don’t even bother trying to look happy because they know they don’t have to.” Sloan cringed. “I bet he’s been just worshiped for his entire life.  Worshiped.”

            “Okay, I think I’m going to need proof of this supposed hotness.  Evidence please?”

            “Google him and report back.  His name is Dean Delucia.  I’m hanging up now, though, I have that casting call at Next Modeling Agency in two hours.”

            “Okay will do, sis.  Don’t give up hope, yet.   You still have three days to figure something out.”

“Thanks.” Sloan smiled softly.

            The two of them hung up and Sloan felt ten times better as she often did after talking to Ashley. Conversations with her sister were always relaxing, revitalizing, and inspiring. So much so that ten minutes later she was showered and shuffling through her suitcase for something cute to wear to the casting call.  She didn’t need Dean, not at all.

            She could make it in the city all on her own.

--

Josh Delucia was five minutes into his weekly visit to his brother’s loft and he was already regretting it.  “So you’re telling me you just threw her out on the street? In New York City?  All alone?”

Dean was in the process of scouring his freezer for anything he could throw together for one of his brothers many unexpected and unwelcome visits.  It was another sunny afternoon on 106th and Broadway, a perfect contradiction to the way Dean felt.  The word lousy didn’t even begin to describe it and his brother rubbing it in wasn’t helping. He turned to the breakfast bar where his brother sat and gave him a look that he hoped conveyed how little he wanted to talk about this before going back to the freezer.  “I didn’t throw her out onto the street.  I’m sure she has a plan.  She’s a smart girl.”

“She did have a plan.  Stay in a hotel for a week and find a job before they threw her out. Enter Dean.”

Dean turned away from the freezer and gave his brother a look of disbelief.  Josh was leaning against the bar, his big arms a perfect testament to the many hours he spent at football practice and the gym.  At 6’4, 270 he was a force to be reckoned with.  With a head of close cut blonde hair the only remaining similarity between the two siblings were their sharp blue eyes.  The kind of eyes that could grab a woman from across the room and hold her like a vise.

Josh shook his head.  “I think she said she has to be out on the 6th.”

That was three days away. Dean’s turned back to the freezer and took out a box of frozen macaroni that they would have to share.  It was all he had.  He threw it in the microwave, squinting in dismay the entire time. His mind was racing.  “That doesn’t make sense.”  He said to the microwave door.  As he continued, he turned back to Josh. “Just to get an apartment in Manhattan she would have to make forty times the rent and have proof of income that goes back 12 months.” His heart had begun to race.  He didn’t know what he planned to do about it but he suddenly needed to know if she was okay.  He leaned against the counter and stared down at it in deep thought before locking eyes with Josh.  “Have you called her?”  Is she okay? He wanted to ask, but bit his tongue.

Josh looked away.

Fuck.  Dean couldn’t believe it.  “You didn’t get her number?” The incredulity in his voice put Josh on the defense.

“I thought I would be seeing her all the time since, you know, she was supposed to be working for my brother!  Now she’s gone forever.  Nice one, Dean.  Thanks for that.”

 Dean wasn’t listening. “What the hell is she thinking?”  He spat.  “What the hell is she thinking? Where is she going to live?  How is she going to eat?” 

“Who knows what goes through these model’s minds. Having said that I doubt that eating is high on her priority list.  And even if she does eat the modeling agencies will beat that out of her real quick.”

“Model.” Dean said softly.

“Yeah.” Josh tilted his head down. “She came here from Georgia to be a model.  She was excited about working for you because she wanted you to take her pictures?” He shook his head at the stupid stare on Dean’s face. “Not ringing any bells?  Did you talk to the girl, at all?”

The microwave beeped and Dean went to check if it was hot enough, grateful for the excuse to walk away from his brother’s critical glare.  As he poked at the macaroni he suddenly realized that he hadn’t really talked to Sloan, not really, but for whatever reason he still felt like he knew her better than a good fifty percent of the people in his life.

Josh was still in judgment mode. “I can’t believe you fired her. I can’t fucking believe you.”

Dean slammed the microwave shut and turned back to the bar, zeroing in on Josh. “The girl got a whiff of my cigarette one second and was a convulsing mess on my floor the next.  She left me no choice.  And who are you to talk?  You’re smooth enough to offer the girl a job in my studio but not smooth enough to ask for her number at the end of the night? I can’t fucking believe you.” Dean didn’t know when he’d started to raise his voice and told himself to relax. “I did what I had to do.”

            “She was a nice girl, though.  A real nice girl.”

“Exactly.  You’re forgetting what I do.  There’s no room for a girl like Sloan in this industry.  She's too wide open. They would have eaten her alive.”

            “What would you have cared if they had? I’ve seen plenty of your assistants get eaten alive while you sat and had a cappucino.  In fact I’m pretty sure I told Sloan it was one of the job requirements. Yeah. Must be willing to get eaten alive.” Josh said mechanically.

            Dean turned away from him, pretending to be preoccupied with the settings on the oven. “It’s my job to take pictures.  I don’t have time to dry her tears.” He said, halfheartedly.

            “So, what? You just throw her out on the street?”

            Dean chewed frantically on the nicotine gum in his mouth, his frustration mounting. “She’s a pretty, young girl. She’ll be fine.”

            “And you’d rather have a pretty, young black girl find her way alone in one of the roughest cities in the world doing god knows what?  Living god knows where? If she ends up in the Bronx forget about it, might as well pick out a street corner right now.”

            “All right, enough.” Dean turned back to Josh and slammed the finished TV dinner macaroni down in between them.

            “I’m not one of your models, bro.  You don’t tell me when it’s enough.” Josh countered, holding his brother’s challenging gaze.  They both looked away at the same time.  Quietly, they took their forks and began eating out of the steaming macaroni plate.  Several minutes rolled by and Dean was the first to speak, “So you really liked that girl, didn’t you?”

            “That’s funny.” Josh chewed quietly, then pointed his fork at his brother, talking out of the side of his mouth. “I was just about to ask you the same question.”