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I ambled for a bit until I heard hushed voices in the distance. I rounded the corner just in

time to hear Demitri say something about length. If you asked me, I should have turned

around and ran. Instead, I stepped into the drawing room and froze, jaw to the floor. At the

center of the room, Demitri stood on a circular platform in front of three mirrors. Bright

morning light bathed him like a marble statue in a museum, emphasizing the cuts of muscle

on his body. Calixta, with pins between her teeth, kneeled at his feet hemming a…a…

“Is that a skirt?” I blurted out. Did I mention Demitri was half naked? No? Well, yeah.

Holy Greek god, Batman!

He frowned at my question. “It’s a kilt.”

“It’s a skirt,” I repeated dumbly. The circuits in my brain were misfiring. Demitri’s abs

were a miracle of nature, each bump perfect.

“It’s leather,” he said.

As if I couldn’t sound any more like an idiot, I replied, “Do you have to do that without a

shirt on, though?”

“It’s funkin’ rock n’ roll!” he growled.

Calixta and I shared a giggle and a loaded stare. When we realized we’d had a moment, we

scowled and returned to what we were doing—her hemming Demitri’s leather kilt and me

standing there staring like a fool. A part of me now understood the appeal of historical

romance novels involving Scottish men. A kilt—on the right body—was hella sexy.

I snapped pictures of Demitri patiently waiting for Calixta to finish her work. Ideas for the

next shoot already forming in my mind.

“What’s the kilt for?” I asked, kneeling with Calixta and pointed my camera up to capture

his perfection at an upward angle. With his long hair spilling over his massive shoulders, he

really resembled a dark-haired highlander who slayed hearts with a guitar instead of a sword.

Demitri spread his legs apart and rested his hands on his narrow hips. “The band in leather

kilts in the snow is one of Luka’s concepts for the Poison music video.”

“Luka came up with this?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

I froze. The response didn’t come from Demitri. I turned in a tight circle to keep from

bumping into Calixta. God forbid she pricks Demitri when she worked so close to his junk.

And based on what I saw beneath that kilt while on my knees, Phoenix must be one happy

girl.

Luka stepped from behind a wooden screen at one side of the room I hadn’t noticed when

I came in. How could I when my gaze was locked on the gorgeous piece of manflesh on the

platform. I had to correct myself. Demitri may look like a Greek god, but Luka embodied a

blond, delicious Loki in that kilt. Granted, none of these pantheons wore kilts, but my mind

was running away with me. He wore the kilt with a tight, black wifebeater. His messy mop of

curls framed his face so well. It didn’t help that my lips still remembered the feel of his

mouth on mine and how intoxicating he tasted. And let’s not forget the sinful tongue ring he

hid expertly.

“How long have you been standing there?” I stammered out.

His eyebrows rose, taking the bolt on one of them up a notch. “Long enough.”

It was times like this when I wished I had both eyes to fully appreciate what I was seeing.

Let him see what his mere presence did to me, not bothering to hide my stare. I wanted him

to know what he was depriving me of.

My tactic must have worked because a slight blush crossed Luka’s cheekbones before he

ran his fingers through his curls. The muscles on his arm flexed at the movement. My skin

still tingled at the memory of the rings on those long digits.

“Why the kilts?” I asked when the silence got a little too awkward.

“Luka wants to give the ladies something to think about.” Demitri laughed—a deep and

throaty sound.

“It’s a symbol.” Luka took a step forward. “Scottish warriors wear kilts. They are fierce in

battle.”

“What does it have to do with the song?”

“We are going into battle for our hearts, to rid ourselves of the poison there.”

Okay, not quite getting it. I pursed my lips but didn’t say anything. I decided I needed to

see what the rest of the video was about before I could make any judgments on Luka’s choice

of wardrobe.

“Alright, you’re done.” Calixta slapped Demitri in the ass and shooed him off the platform.

“Your turn, Your Highness.” She crooked a finger at Luka.

“Your Highness?” I asked, laughing. That came out of left field.

Everyone in the room paused. Luka looked pointedly at Calixta. She didn’t seem affected

by the heat in his glare. Demitri slapped Luka on the shoulder and laughed again before

looking at me. Okay, that got pretty weird fast.

“Don’t mind Calixta. She likes giving everyone nicknames,” he said to me, mischief in his

dark as night eyes.

“It’s because he’s so high and mighty,” Calixta added before she bit down on a couple more

pins.

Luka snorted, taking his place on the platform. The tension deflated. I chuckled. Luka all

high and mighty. He certainly had the attitude. And if he was pulling the strings in Vicious,

he’d definitely need the air of arrogance only royalty possessed.

Demitri and Luka mumbled to each other about the video they would shoot tomorrow

while I continued to take pictures and Calixta got to hemming his kilt. For a second, I

wondered what was under there, but I played the good girl and abstained from kneeling in

front of Luka. The last thing I needed was for him to have that image of me. Then I noticed

the edges of a tattoo peeking out of the collar of Luka’s tank top behind his neck. I couldn’t make out what it was, the black cotton completely obscuring the design. Like a curious cat, I

wanted to see it. The how was the problem. The naughty part of me wished Luka would walk

around half-naked the way Demitri did. The saner part of me knew my heart couldn’t take it

if he did. I silently thanked him for that.

“What time is the shoot starting tomorrow?” I asked, checking the settings on my camera.

“Dawn,” Luka said over his shoulder.

I groaned. I just climbed into bed at that time. Crap!

“And it’ll last most of the day, depending on Mr. Perfectionist here.” Demitri hiked his

thumb at the fallen angel reflected in three mirrors and Luka swiped at his cousin’s shoulder.

I didn’t believe I caught the moment until I stared at it on the digi screen. Demitri was

grinning up at Luka who was scowling down at him. Their interaction looked so dynamic in

the stillness of the picture. And as dumb luck would have it, Calixta wasn’t in the frame. She must have reached for something because when I looked back at the three of them, she

kneeled in front of Luka again. What a fortuitous moment.

A self-satisfied grin pulled at my lips.

“What is it?”

Looking up, my gaze locked with Luka’s as he stared at me from the center mirror. My grin

turned into a full on smile. “Looks like it’s gonna be another sleepless night for me.”

Luka mirrored my smile with a sexy one of his own. “Just the way I like it.”

Chapter Nineteen

Video

Considering the day ahead of me, I forced myself into a power nap an hour before the

shoot started. The film crew and production staff had arrived after midnight, already setting

up. I’d been wrong about the snow. It hadn’t melted. It actually snowed on the poor crew, but

none of them seemed to complain. They just kept working, once in a while brushing off a pile

of flakes on their heads. I briefly wondered if they had to sign an NDA as well then quickly

corrected myself. Of course they had. Yana wouldn’t have them on the property if they hadn’t.

I’d uploaded the pictures I’d taken of the dashing cousins in their leather kilts and

mentally chastised myself for ogling and not working. Man, these guys were way too good

looking. In fact, it seemed their family hogged the gene pool when evolution handed out the

best traits. I would have considered it unfair if I hadn’t been given a chance to photograph

them. Could anybody say easy A? I slapped my cheeks. No! I couldn’t allow myself to let my

guard down. Just because I had the most photogenic bunch in the history of good-looking

people didn’t mean the pictures would come out perfect. I still had a lot of work to do.

But the second my head hit the pillow, a loud banging forced me off my bed and its warm

sheets with a groan. Didn’t they know I needed my beauty sleep? I snorted at my own joke as

I shuffled toward the door. It couldn’t have been Deidra because she always let herself in, and Luka would rather use the terrace we shared than actually knock at my door.

The banging continued, more insistent now.

“Hold your horses!” I snapped. “I’m coming!”

I yanked the door open. A fuming Calixta with bags under her eyes and several strands of

hair out of place breathed heavily in the hallway. I considered slamming the door in her face.

“You’re here because…” I blinked at her, bleary-eyed.

Without answering my implied question, Calixta dragged me into the hallway by my wrist.

“Hey!” I pulled back but she didn’t let go. For someone short, Calixta stored major

strength. I must have outweighed her by at least ten pounds and yet I couldn’t free myself

from her grip. “The hand is still attached you know!”

She closed the door behind me and said, “I don’t have time for this. The model who was

supposed to take part in the shoot dropped out last minute. The bitch! We don’t have time to

vet anyone else. Luka suggested that we use you.”

“Wait, what?” I stood there dumbstruck.

“Are you hearing me?” Calixta started moving, taking me with her whether I moved or not.

Still in shock trying to process her words, I let her tug me along, not wanting to risk

dislocating my wrist.

“I heard you. I just don’t think I’m the right person for the job.”

“Don’t be a baby about it. All you have to do is wear this wicked dress, walk around in the

forest for a couple of minutes then lie on a concrete slab pretending you’re asleep or dead,

whichever you like. I prefer dead, but that’s just me.”

Calixta’s rapid fire words confused the hell out of me. We hurried along busy hallways. It

seemed no one in Lunar Manor was getting any sleep today. The activity reminded me of a

shaken ant farm, frantic yet focused. I even spotted Deidra carrying a chafing dish toward

somewhere. She disappeared around a corner so quickly, I wasn’t sure it was her at first.

My warden led me into the drawing room and took me behind the wooden screen Luka

used earlier to dress in his kilt. The memory almost gave me mental block.

“Strip,” Calixta commanded.

“What?” I blinked at her like she wasn’t speaking English.

She must have caught on and enunciated her next words. “Take off your damn clothes and

put that on.”
That
was a garment bag which I assumed contained the dress. “Then come out and I’ll make adjustments to your frame. But from the looks of you, I think you have the

same measurements as the model.”

“Calixta, I don’t think—”

“Don’t think. Just do.” When she huffed, I half expected flames to come out. “Like I said, I

don’t have time for this. If you don’t get into that dress, I will put it on you myself. And I promise, that will not be pleasant.”

Sufficiently frightened, I nodded. Calixta gave me privacy without my asking for it. In my

underwear, I unzipped the garment bag and just stared. The dress was black, which I began to

see was the color scheme Vicious liked to work with. The leather bodice tied in with the

leather kilt theme. But I couldn’t understand the skirt. It was completely made out of

feathers. Just unzipping the bag already caused it to molt. The dress was gorgeous…and

expensive. I’d never been in anything so beautiful.

“Are you sure this is what I have to wear?” I combed my fingers through the silky feathers.

They looked and felt so real.

“Don’t wear a bra,” Calixta said in response. She sounded calmer than before, so I breathed

easier.

Not willing to incur her wrath, I removed my bra and shimmied into the dress. The damn

thing weighed a ton. I grunted when the zipper got stuck halfway up my back.

“What’s taking you so long?” Calixta joined me again behind the screen.

“I think my boobs are too big for this dress.” The ladies were already feeling crushed to my

chest and the zipper hadn’t even fully closed yet.

“Of course not. Suck in a deep breath.”

I did as I was told, and with a deft flick of her wrist, Calixta zipped the dress closed. I

groaned. My breasts were officially melded to my lungs and I couldn’t breathe. I squeaked so

to Calixta and she laughed at me. Note to self, the woman liked torture.

“Come on. I need to put you in the shoes then it’s off to hair and makeup.” Calixta left me

to navigate walking in the dress by myself.

With the tight bodice and the heavy skirt, I was pretty sure I would stumble and face plant.

Feathers would rain down on my humiliation. I could see the picture already. Unwilling to

fall in such a gorgeous dress, I yanked the skirt up with both hands and stomped my way to

the platform. If this was Luka’s idea of a joke, I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of getting to laugh. Like everything I did, I would put a hundred and fifty percent into this. How hard

was it to walk around and pretend to be dead afterward?

I shouldn’t have asked that question because after a couple of hours in hair and makeup,