Let's Make A Deal

The model was on the verge of a full-blown tantrum, but Emma chose to ignore her haughty tone and silently focused on styling her hair. She let the warmth of the straightener ground her. Upon touching it, Emma noticed the hair was rough and severely damaged.

"Should I add curls?" she asked, looking at the model's reflection in the mirror.

The woman let out a harsh groan to express her annoyance.

"Good grief, who paired me with such a dunce! Of course you curl it!"

Emma set to work forming the curls, fighting the urge to burn the woman's hair, forcing herself to maintain a professional demeanor. When she had accepted this internship, Emma hadn't expected the insemination to take hold so quickly. Now, her belly was growing-fifteen weeks had passed, and the reality of her pregnancy was setting in. A smile touched her lips-the smile of a fulfilled young woman. Her dream was taking shape a little more every day, and nothing around her could take that happiness away.

"Let's go! Everyone in position!"

The photographer's sharp voice snapped her out of her pleasant daydream. Emma finished the final curl just as the lead model burst up from her chair.

"Damn it, Sharon, you have dark circles like my grandfather!" the photographer called out, tracking her with his eyes as she walked past him.

Emma suppressed a laugh, clearing her throat and turning away so her smile wouldn't be seen.

***

Azzario exhaled a long sigh as the elevator doors slid open. Before they had even parted fully, he strode out with a brisk, determined step. He detested places like this; the overwhelming scent of perfume and cosmetics was almost unbearable. To conceal his irritation, Azzario maintained a cold, impassive mask as he walked toward the deafening music.

Azzario was emerging from a long, agonizing depression that had lasted a full year-one that had nearly driven him to suicide. He had managed to drag himself out of it only by immersing himself completely in his work and his family's empire. Over the painful months that followed, Azzario had built a fortress around himself, insulating his heart from his own emotions. He was well aware that he could come across as ruthless... even inhuman.

He pushed the studio door open and stepped to the side, hands shoved into his pockets. To his dismay, the photo shoot seemed to be dragging on indefinitely. He restrained himself from interrupting and observed Sharon with a critical eye. At that moment, he wondered why he had ever taken her on as a mistress. Likely just to escape the sheer boredom he had felt in bed for months, though he now realized he had acted too hastily. Even for a brief fling, he was not ready to let a woman back into his life or his intimacy. Despite his outward indifference, Sharon stirred up memories that were far too painful. She was just like the rest-calculating, arrogant, self-assured, and born into privilege. Unfortunately, she was the type he had to deal with every single day.

To mask his annoyance, Azzario turned his head and closed his eyes for a brief moment. When he opened them, his gaze locked onto a delicate figure in the distance. He narrowed his eyes, his blood surging faster through his veins... Without a doubt, standing right there was the little English girl who had trespassed onto his property weeks ago. He would have recognized her anywhere. Her fair complexion, slender frame, and striking blue eyes were impossible to miss. Her dark hair was down this time, held back by a butterfly clip, cascading over her chest with subtle reddish highlights in the light.

He never expected to see this young woman again...

Yet seeing her here dissolved any remaining suspicions he had harbored. She clearly had nothing to do with journalism. Her blue eyes still held that familiar flicker of panic-like a doe trapped in a hunter's gaze-yet they were undeniably full of life.

As she turned fully in his direction, unaware of his presence, Azzario straightened instantly as his eyes caught a detail that was impossible to overlook. Her stomach was softly rounded, outlined beneath a simple tank top.

Immediately, a pang of guilt struck him as dark memories washed over him like a crashing wave. Had she been pregnant when he confronted her so harshly? Azzario clenched his jaw and took a step forward to get a better look at her stomach. He felt an unprecedented surge of softness toward this stranger. He needed to pull himself together immediately!

"Who unplugged the cable?!"

The photographer's sharp outburst cut through his thoughts. Azzario tore his eyes away from the young woman to shoot a brief glance at the man.

"Find me that cable!"

Azzario shifted his focus back to the Englishwoman. She had vanished. He withdrew his hands from his pockets and began scanning the studio floor.

To his utter astonishment, he spotted her crawling on all fours in his direction, tracing the power cords with her eyes.

"Dios mío," he muttered under his breath.

No one else seemed to care about her-or her condition.

Pregnant.

Deciding to put an end to what he viewed as an absurd situation, Azzario placed his foot firmly on the cable. When she reached him, blocked by his shoe, she tugged at the cord without looking up.

"Could you move your foot, sir?"

Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Azzario didn't budge until she finally lifted her gaze.

Her wide blue eyes expanded with shock, giving him a fleeting sense of satisfaction.

Her pale skin flushed crimson, hiding her light freckles.

"Look how we meet again..."