Through The Lens (Creative Hearts Book 1) (24 page)

The ringing buzzer brought him out of his reverie.
 

Mika looked up at Ale, and then at the clock. “That’s the first of the interviews. And I think you need to be off to the magazine with these proofs and the meeting with the editor. I’ll let you know how the preliminary interviews go.”
 

The buzzer rang again and Ale spoke up. “I think I’ll help you out with this a bit. I called and moved my appointment. You can come with me there. It’ll be a good opportunity for you to see how to handle the editors in your new position. ”

She raised a brow but fought to keep her voice cool. “I really don’t need you here. I can do this part. And as for editors, I’m sure with my experience I’ll handle them just fine.”

His eyes turned to slits. “As we know, you can handle all sorts of things. But in this, I insist. Of course I should be involved in the process. I mean, this person will be my right arm. And as you know, this relationship is just about as close as a marriage. Sometimes...closer,” he said, raising a brow.

Mika wanted to respond so badly it hurt, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. So instead, she stood and after sweeping a slow look over him from head to toe, she went and answered the door.

*

Ale’s voice with his not-so-subtle undertones still shimmered through her body as Mika opened the door. But he wouldn’t get the best of her. She knew exactly what he was doing, and she was way more determined to win at this game than he could ever imagine.
 

“Hello, I’m Blake Mitchell,” the young man with tousled, curly brown hair said carefully. Mika caught a slight southern accent that he was fighting to cover up with plain, generic tones. The lack of accent would only mark him in an instant as clearly not a New Yorker at all, and she wanted to tell him to not work so hard to lose it and just stay true to who he was. Blake was in his early twenties, well dressed in black chinos and an oxford shirt topped with a well-worn black leather jacket. He had a leather crossover bag slung over his chest.

She put out her hand and introduced herself, inviting him in and walking him toward the conference area. Ale was now up and pretending to work with some equipment, obviously trying to look nonchalant. Great, so he was expecting her to call him over like the “great man” he was? Have her do the pre-interview? What the hell did he want?

Mika lead Blake to the conference table to take a seat, then headed back out to see what Ale intended to do. The studio was unusually quiet, and her footsteps reverberated, the sound bouncing off the walls. She sighed and grabbed Blake’s resume off her desk before going over to Ale, who was still deep in his act and now pointedly ignoring her.

“Would you like to come in now, or do you want me to handle the pre-interview...boss?”

She saw Ale’s grip tighten on the camera for just a moment before he turned to her with a feral smile. “I’ll come with you. Wouldn’t want you rushing things.”

Mika cocked a brow but did nothing more as she turned on her heel, determined to make Ale follow behind her. He did.

“Blake, this is Ale—”

“Alejandro Vargas,” Ale said, talking over her and roughly shaking Blake’s hand. “Your portfolio?” He put out his hand in a way that Mika knew unnerved the younger man, judging by the way the way his hands shook as he scrambled in his bag.
 

Mika gave Ale a pointed look, which he ignored. “Blake was tops in his class at SCAD and has interned at
Network
and
Free
magazines.” Ale nodded but still managed to look thoroughly unimpressed. He took a seat next to her just a tad too close.

Blake handed over his portfolio. Alejandro gave the photographs only a cursory glance, quickly flipping the pages. “Who are your influences?” he asked, not looking up.

“Well, um, there’s Steven Miesel, Annie Leibovitz and, uh, of course you.”

Ale quirked a brow and shut the book.

With that, Mika knew the interview was over.

*

And so it went for the next nine days. There was Adam and Nate, then Myles and Jasper, followed by Sara and Jasmine—well, even Mika quickly rejected Jasmine after one look in her predatory eyes and on-display cleavage. The others would have each been acceptable, but Alejandro had found a way to get rid of them all for some minuscule reason or another. And now, time was running out.
 

It was seven-thirty, and Mika was exhausted. They’d had a grueling photo shoot for a perfume ad earlier in the day. One where she got to help pose two willowy models in just the right positions around one gorgeous male model—yeah, no imbalance of power there. Right after the shoot, they interviewed a girl named Emma. Mika knew the girl was a long shot from her credentials, but still she had hoped.
 

Of course, Ale shot her down quickly and sent her packing, teetering on her wedge heels and practically in tears.
 

The studio was now empty, the two of them alone, and she’d just closed the door on the distraught Emma. Mika whirled on Alejandro. “Did you have to do that?”

He looked up from where he was standing by the set and raised his brows in surprise. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t give me that. You know exactly what I mean. You didn’t have to be so harsh with her. I know she was green, but did you have to rake her over the coals like that? Jeez, with your rapid-fire questions she may go running right back to Idaho or Iowa or wherever she’s from.” Mika threw her hands in the air in frustration and walked over to the rumpled bedroom set from the perfume shoot, quickly starting to strip the prop sheets.
 

Alejandro shook his head and went to the other side of the bed, taking off pillowcases. He did one while she did the other. “If my easy questions are enough to send her running back home to mama, then this isn’t the business for her. Besides I did the same thing to you, and it didn’t scare you off.”
 

She took in his well-worn jeans and soft denim shirt open at the collar. What a predicament they were in—she on one side of the bed with him on the other. Mika blinked to push away the dangerous thoughts trying to creep into her mind. “It doesn’t matter now, does it? Because in a couple of days I won’t be here, and you’ll be up the creek.”

He stilled, his eyes suddenly challenging. “Oh, will I? I thought the deal was you’d find me an acceptable replacement. And so far you have not.”

She folded her arms. “Who said we had a deal? This is not my fault. I’ve done all I can, and you’ve rejected them all. Too bad. I start my new job come Monday. You know this.”

His eyes narrowed, and his jaw tightened at her words. But he walked around the bed to her, suddenly too close. His broad shoulders loomed above her, his scent surrounding her.
 

“Do you mind?” she asked.

The corners of his mouth quirked up, and he ran his hand along the side of her neck. She quickly swiped it away, trying hard to ignore the shiver that ran down her spine.
 

“As a matter of fact, I do.” He leaned in and kissed the soft spot at the center of her ear.
 

She straightened even more and stepped back. “That’s not going to work on me.” The words were out, but she hated the underlying breathlessness to her voice. Mika coughed. “Like I said, I’m still leaving.”

He stepped back and she didn’t know if she was relieved or not. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“Ale, you wouldn’t dare. I’m not one of these little girls to be threatened.”

“And I’m not some man to be toyed with. You think you can just use me as your stepping stone, and then leave me when I need you the most?”

Need. Used.
Mika looked up at him in confusion. “What are you talking about? How did I use you? I was loyal to you. You knew when I came on board that I wanted more, that I eventually wanted to work on my own. You knew I wanted to learn from you, and I did. I stayed with you for years longer than I should have, because you kept firing so many assistants. I was a fool for putting my life on hold for so long. Yes, I was wrong to not tell you about the
Stylist
job as soon as it came up. And fine, I’ll admit I was a coward for that. But now I have to go.”

*

Ale turned away from her.
Have to go.
He had heard those words before. Overheard them actually, but still they hurt just as much as the first time. His own mother had said them to his father before she closed the door on them all forever, walking out on her husband and her two young sons with little more than a backwards glance. Sure, there were the cards and the occasional trips to FAO Schwartz for birthdays, always a week late because she just so happened to be traveling somewhere exotic and couldn’t find her way back on the actual day. But it wasn’t a replacement for the missing body in the bleachers on game day or when he won first place for his photographs in the high school’s art show, or that day when he’d had such intense stomach pain he passed out on the soccer field. Alejandro had been thirteen, and it had turned out to be appendicitis. His father, who by then only had time for work and his evening tumbler of Scotch, couldn’t be spared from his business deal, and his mother, somewhere in Ibiza, could only send her regards for his speedy recovery.
 

And now there was Mika saying she too
had to go
. He knew what those words meant. They meant he’d be on his own forever. Stuck here to deal with the pain of this supposedly perfect life he had. Well, to hell with it. He didn’t want to deal with it on his own. He wanted her to stay. He didn’t say anything years ago, just dealt with his pain on his own, by himself, and grinned through it. He wasn’t doing that now. Not again.
 

He just needed a bit more time. She’d come around and see that being with him was the right thing for both of them. He couldn’t hear her words about the magazine and her wants and her needs because to his ears, they were just excuses so she could walk out of his studio and out of his life. Forever.

He put a hand up and started to walk toward his desk, but Mika grabbed him, forcing him to turn around. “Talk to me. Tell me you understand that I have to do this for me.”

He pulled back and nodded, then brushed her short, wispy hair out of her big round eyes.
 

She closed them for a moment and he couldn’t resist kissing the tops of her lids. He gave a silent prayer of thanks for that moment, bracing himself for what was to come.
 

“I do understand, beauty, I really do. But I’m sorry, you can’t leave just yet.”

Her eyes shot open.

He continued. “You see, I need you so much right now, and we are just too busy for me to let you go. You’ll have to call them at the magazine and postpone. It just can’t be avoided, and you wouldn’t want to be considered as someone who would shirk her responsibilities.” He gave her his patented smile, all even white teeth and flashing eyes, the one he’d seen reflected back at him and the rest of the world so many times from the Who’s Who pages. He knew it well and had perfected it. Hoped it would pass in this moment. “Hey,” he said, tucking a finger under her chin. “Just give it a couple of weeks, and I’m sure you’ll find me a suitable replacement by then.”

With that, Alejandro stepped back and walked out the loft door, trying hard to get as much distance as he could between his words and the expression of devastation on Mika’s face.

Chapter 17

It had been two weeks and still no assistant was good enough for Alejandro. Every day with him grew more and more tense and Mika felt about at the end of her rope. She had put them off at
Stylist
as long as possible and was hopeful they would hold out a little more. That Ale’s name could carry just a little bit of weight. So far it had. And as it was, she couldn’t just walk out on Ale with him threatening to blackball her throughout the industry. The fashion world was small, and with one bad word, her career could be over before it even started. Right now, she felt like a caged tiger backed into a corner with the ringmaster prodding at her nonstop.
 

Though it was just late afternoon, Mika was fighting a killer headache since the music in the studio was blaring. Ale was photographing a pop diva for her upcoming CD cover. The diva had a small entourage of about fifteen when it came to her hair, make-up, wardrobe, Mom-ager, PR and assistants. It was an awful lot for such a young girl. But wise—or unwise—beyond her years, she still was bringing the sexy hard for Ale and his lens.

The young woman gyrated to the beat of her own music while licking her lips and smiling suggestively at Alejandro. “You know, this new album will be my coming out. I’m breaking free of my sweet image with this one.”
 

Ale nodded as he clicked away. Mika raised a brow as she looked on from behind him. When was she ever America’s Sweetheart? The girl was delusional.

“Yeah, no more Little Miss Bubble Gum. Those days are behind me,” the diva continued as she turned and gave a little butt wiggle for the camera. “You think I need the top?”

Ale coughed. “I think it would be best. You don’t want to totally alienate your core fan base, do you?”

“You think?” the girl replied.

Mika groaned as her phone vibrated with a new message. She looked down, away from the overly hormonal teen queen. It was the editor of
Stylist.
She stepped back to check her phone, and her heart dropped. In that moment, her world washed away.