Daddy’s Rules by Kelly Myers
Savannah
When I find out the photographer I’m going to be working with is Nick Knight, I’m not sure how to feel. I’ve heard a few rumors that he’s an arrogant ass so I decide to invite my neighbor Jasmine over and get the scoop while I pack.
Jasmine Torres leans back on my bed and crosses her long, long tan legs. “Nick Knight is a brilliant photographer,” she assures me. “But, he can also be difficult and demanding.”
“Should I be nervous?” I ask.
“No. I think he only gets pissy when people act unprofessional and waste his time.”
“Well, that’s understandable.”
“And, you’re a total pro on set so don’t even worry about it. I’m sure y’all will get along just fine.”
I toss some leggings into the suitcase and then look up with a smile. “I’m so excited, Jazz. This is the biggest thing I’ve ever booked. And, the paycheck…” I shake my head, still in disbelief. “I can’t believe how much money it is!”
“Welcome to the big leagues, baby! We’re going to have to take a trip to New York and go see your billboard in Times Square.”
“Oh, my gosh, can you imagine?” We both squeal. “So, when did you work with Nick?” I ask and rummage through my dresser for some pajamas to pack.
She studies her nails, thinking. “Must have been about three years ago. When I did the Marc Jacobs shoot.”
“And, he was nice to you?”
She makes a face. “I wouldn’t describe Nick Knight as nice,” she says carefully. “But, he’s very focused and keeps things extremely professional. So, the good thing is you don’t have to worry about some sleaze trying to hit on you.”
I let out a little breath and nod. “That’s a relief. I don’t want to deal with some creepy perv all weekend.”
With a laugh, Jasmine glances down at what I’ve packed so far and frowns. “Um, you do realize that you’re going to Las Vegas, right?”
“What do you mean?” I frown.
“Savvy, by the looks of what you’ve packed, I’d guess you’re going camping.” She pulls out a plaid shirt and cringes. “What is this ridiculousness? You’re supposed to be a model and have a little style. This looks like a shirt my Grandpa owns.”
“Gimme that.” I grab the shirt and toss it back into the suitcase. Okay, so maybe I’m packing practical clothes. What’s wrong with that? I’ll barely be wearing my own clothes, anyway. When doubt starts to fill my mind, I tilt my head and chew my bottom lip. “What do you think I should bring?” I ask.
If Jasmine is good at anything, it’s giving advice.
“You should have at least two or three club outfits, an outfit to wear to the casino, a bathing suit and, for the love of God, Savannah, pack some sexy pajamas.”
I look down at the long, pink cotton nightgown in my hands. I suppose it is a little similar to one my Grandma wears. But, I shake my head and frown. “I don’t do sexy.”
“You don’t know how to do sexy,” she corrects. “But, I can help you. Just because you’re a virgin doesn’t mean you have to dress like one.”
A blush heats my cheeks as she jumps off the bed and starts going through my closet and drawers, pulling things out and tossing them in a pile. Then, she starts matching things up. “Okay, this is about as good as it gets. But, you’re lucky I’m such a good friend because I’m going to let you borrow a couple of things. Be right back,” she says and jogs out.
While Jasmine runs back to her apartment, I check out the outfits she pieced together and think they’re pretty cute. I place them in my suitcase, toss in the shoes she chose and wait for her to return.
When she walks back in, she’s holding a hanger with a slinky red dress dangling on it that screams sex. “This little number comes with a hard-on guarantee.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t think I want to take it then,” I say, but she shoves the dress at me.
“You are definitely taking it. And, I have some pajamas for you,” she adds and holds up a sexy little nightgown. It’s a powder pink, silk slip edged with lace. “I got to keep it after I walked in the La Perla show. Twelve-hundred dollars, baby. Can you believe it?”
I let out a sigh and tuck the lingerie inside then zip it up. “You act like I’m going to have some kind of secret rendezvous,” I say.
She shrugs. “You never know.”
I laugh. “Oh, I know. I’m going to be in my room when I’m not working and either reading a book or-”
Jasmine holds up a hand. “Savannah, do me a favor. After your shoot Saturday, go out. Please, please, please wear the red dress, have a glass of champagne and celebrate. Even if it’s just you. You’re going to be all made up, looking absolutely stunning with big Guess hair, a ton of makeup and probably look just like Claudia Schiffer in the 90s. Take some time and enjoy it, okay?”
Maybe she’s right, I think. It wouldn’t hurt to do that and just enjoy the moment before going back up to my room and washing the makeup off. “I’ll think about it,” I say. “Thank you for the dress and sexy nightgown. Even though I have no one to wear it for.”
“Never say never,” she says with a wink. “Live a little, Savvy. You’re going to be in the city of sin. And, I’m going to call you Saturday night and check in. And, I swear to God, if you’re sitting in your room by yourself, I’m going to get in my car, drive to Vegas and drag your butt down to the bar.”
“Your car’s in the shop,” I remind her.
“Then, I’ll borrow Taylor’s car.”
“Are you trying to be a bad influence?”
“Who? Me?” she asks all innocently.
I plop down next to her and try to calm my nerves. When I booked this, I knew it was a big deal but now I’m starting to get anxious. What if I mess up? What if I’m off my game? I start to pick at my nail polish and Jasmine bats my hand.
“Anything else I should know about this photographer?” I ask her. “You know I like to be prepared.”
“Just that he’s hot as sin.”
“What?” My head snaps up from my now chipped nail polish. “Are you serious?”
“You’ve never seen him?”
When I shake my head, she whistles under her breath, grabs her phone and starts typing. “Here he is,” she says and turns the screen around to show me a picture of Nick Knight.
Oh. My. Goodness.
I swallow hard and study his perfect features. With high, sharp cheekbones that could cut glass, dark hair and...I zoom in on his eyes and feel my heartbeat quicken...silvery-gray eyes that remind me of liquid metal, Nick Knight is the most attractive man I’ve ever laid eyes on.
“He used to be a model,” she says. “I think he retired like 15 years ago.”
“How old is he?” I do a quick search on my phone and see he’s 42 years old.
Jasmine shrugs. “Doesn’t really matter. I told you-- he’s a total professional on set and won’t look twice at you. Not in that way. Besides, I’m pretty sure he has a girlfriend.”
Of course he does. A guy like that probably has his pick of women. Boo.
“Who?” I wonder and scroll through the endless articles about him online.
“Some socialite.”
Then, I see her. She looks around his age, maybe 40, and it says her name is Margo York. With sleek, shoulder-length dark hair and pale green eyes, she’s rather striking. “Margo York,” I mumble.
“That’s it! I think she’s worth millions.”
Good for her,I think and close the app. I hope they’re very happy together.
Jasmine eyes me then smirks. “I can’t believe it.”
“What?”
“I never thought I’d see the day.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“Savannah Hart just found a man she thinks is attractive.”
“Oh, shut it,” I say. But, when my cheeks redden, there’s no denying it. “What?” She's staring at me like I have three heads and it’s starting to make me mad.
“You are too cute, Savvy.”
“He’s...very handsome,” I admit, feeling flustered. “Anyone with eyes can see that.”
“He’s also twice your age and otherwise taken.”
“Duh. Like I’d do anything about it, anyway. Even if he wasn’t,” I add.
“Maybe he’ll have a hot assistant helping him out.”
Assistant?Is she kidding? Um, yeah, no one would be hotter than Nick Knight. He’s legit steaming. Wow, I can’t even imagine having a man like that as a boyfriend. The hotness would overwhelm me.
I know I said before that I wanted a man and not a boy. But, looking at Nick...he’s so much man that I’d have no idea what to even do with him. Whatever. It doesn’t matter, I tell myself. He’s off-limits.
When I meet him, I will shake his hand and smile politely. I will model my ass off and show him that I am a force to reckon with; an up and comer that he needs to keep his eye on.
He will be thoroughly impressed with my professionalism and hard work. And, maybe, if I’m lucky, we will get to work together again at some point in the future.
If not, I’ll tell him that it was a pleasure, board the plane and return home.
Back to my lonely, little apartment here at Sunset Terrace.
