Eyes Wide Open

“I am the security when it comes to her.” I pointed in Brynne’s direction as I relieved him of his mobile and cut the f**ker off midcall. “Brynne is finished here. Ring my office if you want compensation for your trouble. I will gladly pay.” I took out a business card and flicked it. It spun through the distance between us and landed at his feet on the floor. I thought I was being remarkably calm, considering . . .

He glanced over at Brynne, who just stood there, staring at us with her mouth hanging open. And still f**king naked!

“Don’t look at her, motherfucker!” I yelled at him.

He squeaked like a girl and turned his head away, cringing.

“Simon, I am so sorry for thi—” Brynne stepped toward him.

“Oh, no you don’t!” I grabbed her arm and spun her, shielding her body with mine. “Would you put something on? You’re standing around here f**king naked, for f**k’s sake!”

Brynne glared at me with daggers shooting from her eyes and reached for her robe. It had been on a side table the whole time, just out of the camera’s view. I hadn’t noticed it there a moment ago. She pulled it on and belted the waist, her arms and hands making hard, snapping movements as she squinted her eyes, searing fiery brown daggers at me. She stuck her hand up under her hair and worked it around for a moment before extracting a long wavy brown hairpiece. She set it carefully on the table. Then she turned her back on me and bent over first one leg and then the other, removing the stockings and straightening them out to drape over the table next to the hairpiece.

I could tell she was beyond enraged with what I’d done, but I simply did not care. She was okay, at least. Couldn’t say that with much certainty about her photographer friend, but Brynne was safe in my sights and not in the hands of abductors. She was f**king naked alone in a room with another man having her picture taken, but at least my worst nightmare wasn’t a reality. She was here and I could see her.

The ride home was pretty silent. Just some sighing and the swishing of bodies on seats, and not much else. Brynne wasn’t speaking and I was in no shape for discussion either. No telling what would come out of my mouth the way I was feeling at the moment. Best to leave it stewing for a bit.

Once we arrived and got inside the flat, she beelined it into the bathroom and locked me out. I could hear the water running, but no other sounds. I put my ear up to the door and listened. I didn’t want her to cry alone if that’s what she was doing, but I was still furious. This modeling thing? It had to go. I just couldn’t stand the idea of it anymore, and it made me utterly irrational to think of her posing in the nude for others to see. And fantasize about f**king her . . . or worse!

There were a million things I needed to do at this moment. Places I should be and people I should be meeting with, but did I even consider leaving Brynne at home and going back to my office? Negative. I was going f**king nowhere right now.

I stepped out onto my balcony instead and settled onto a lounger where I could watch the city change from day into night. And smoke cigarette after cigarette after cigarette. It didn’t help me much. Funny how something that used to soothe me when I felt agitated didn’t really do the trick anymore. I waited for Brynne to come out of the bathroom, but she took the first round in a knockdown. It didn’t look like she would be making the first move tonight.

When I couldn’t bear my self-imposed solitude for another second I went back inside to try to reason with her. “Brynne?” Silence. “Let me in.” I rattled the knob, and to my great surprise it turned. Not locked out after all.

I opened the door to find her perched on the vanity stool painting her toes, her hair pulled up in a clip, wearing the yellow silk robe that made her skin glow. She wouldn’t look at me, but continued to work the dark pink nail polish as if I wasn’t there.

“Can we talk?” I asked finally.

“What about? How you manhandled me in the middle of a photo shoot, which happens to be my job, and practically beat up the photographer? Not to mention the damage done to my reputation in the business.” Her voice was flat.

“I don’t want you in that business anymore.”

She capped the lid on her nail polish and set it on the vanity counter. “It’s all about what you want, huh?”

“I needed to know where you were and you wouldn’t answer your mobile.” I let a moment go for some kind of an explanation but she didn’t offer one. “Fine, I admit I went in there hotheaded and lost my temper, but I was running on clues that led me into a panic situation.” I dragged a hand through my hair and kept it stuck there. “And you were f**king naked, Brynne.”

She stared down at the floor as she spoke, “I probably won’t get any more calls after today. Nobody will want me now.”

Oh, the motherfuckers will still want you. I stood in front of her and took her chin in my hand, forcing her to look up. “Good. I hope they don’t call you.” She still stayed silent but her eyes flashed. “I’m serious, Brynne. You’re not posing naked anymore.” There, I said it.

“It’s my decision, Ethan. You have no right to tell me I can’t do it.”

“Oh, really?” I grabbed her left hand and held it up. “What’s this ring mean, then? You’re going to be my wife, the mother of my child—a person whom I don’t want posing in the f**king nude anymore!” I glared right back. “I definitely have a say.”

She snatched her hand away and spit up at me, “You don’t get it. You just don’t understand ANYTHING about me!” Screaming now, and looking utterly furious, she pushed at my chest to keep me from getting too close.

Fuck that! My temper was getting the better of me again as I struggled with how to bring us back together on the issue. One idea came to mind of how I might accomplish it, though. I could tear off that yellow silk robe she had on and f**k her into next week, and then we could have this conversation, or argument, or whatever the hell this shit was right here. That might work.

I pulled her up from her seat by the shoulders instead, trapping her arms to her sides so she couldn’t fight me. She still struggled, though, even as I had her gripped tight against my chest, our faces an inch apart, her soft curves melting into me and making my c**k rock-hard.

“I’m trying to understand why my girl needs to take off her clothes and let people see photographs of her like that!” I said with more anger than I wanted to . . . and then I crushed my mouth against hers.