Chapter 3 Modelling

Someone smelled very good as they touched me. I could smell the spice and feel the weight of a hand on my shoulder. But the fear rose up anyway. The blast of terror that brought me screaming into consciousness arrived right on schedule. I knew what it was, but still the panic ruled me. I should know. The feeling had been with me for years now.

"Brynne, wake up."

That voice. Who was it? I opened my eyes and faced into the blue intensity of Ethan Blackstone not more than six inches away. I pushed back into the seat to make more distance between me and that gorgeous face. I remembered now. He bought my picture tonight. And took me home,

"Shit! I'm sorry I-I fell asleep?" I fiddled for the door handle, but I didn't know this car. I scrambled blindly to get out to get away. Ethan's hand shot over and covered mine, stilling it with a firm touch. "Easy. You're safe, everything's fine. You just drifted off is all."

"Okay... sorry." I panted some deep breaths, looked out the window, and then back to him still watching my every move.

"Why do you keep apologizing?"

"I don't know," I whispered. I did know, but couldn't think about it at the moment.

"Are you okay?" He smiled slowly with a tilt of his head. I swear he liked the fact that he rattled me. I wasn't sure if I didn't. I so needed to get away from this situation right now, before I agreed to all manner of things. Something along the lines of Take off your clothes and stretch out in the big backseat of my Range Rover, Brynne. This man had a way with control that severely unnerved me.

"Thank you for the ride. And the water. And the other stu-"

"You take care of yourself, Brynne Bennett." He pressed a button and the lock clicked. "You have your key ready? I'll wait until you're inside. What floor is it?"

I dug my key out of my purse and replaced it with my phone, which was still on my lap. "I live in the top studio loft, fifth floor."

"Roommate?" "Well, yes, but she's probably not in. Again, wondering what loosed my tongue in sharing personal information with a virtual stranger. "I'll look for the light to come on then." Ethan's face was unreadable. I had no idea what he was thinking. I pushed the door open and got out. "Goodnight, Ethan Blackstone." I left his car at the curb and headed up the steps of my building, feeling the stare of his eyes as I walked. Sticking the key in the door, I looked back over my shoulder at the Rover. The windows were so dark I couldn't see inside, but he was in there waiting for me to get in my building so he could leave.

I opened the foyer door to five flights of stairs ahead of me. I slipped off the heels and did it barefoot. The second I entered my flat I hit the lights and locked up. I literally collapsed against the wooden door for support. My heels dumped on the floor in a clatter, and I exhaled a huge sigh. What the hell just happened?

It took a minute to heave myself away from the damn door and head over to the window. I pulled back the drape with a finger to find his car gone. Ethan Blackstone was gone.

*******

A five-mile run was just the ticket to help clear my head of the fog from last night's- Alice in Wonderland down a friggin' rabbit hole-trip. I seriously felt like I'd done the whole "Eat Me" and "Drink Me" thing too. Jesus, had the champagne been drugged? I'd acted like it. Allowing an unknown man to drive me in his car, drop me at my home and take over control of my food? Well it was stupid, and I told myself to forget about it and him. Life was complicated enough without borrowing trouble.

That's what Aunt Marie always said. Picturing her reaction to my modeling made me smile. I knew for a fact that my great-aunt was less concerned about the nude pictures than my own mother was. Aunt Marie was no prude. I set my iPod to shuffle and took off.

Pretty soon the awkward encounter from last night had been pounded onto the London pavement of Waterloo Bridge. It felt good to push myself physically and just run. Must be all the endorphins. Cursing inwardly for another sex reference, I wondered if that was my problem, and the reason I allowed Ethan so much leeway last night. Maybe I needed an orgasm. You're so screwed. Yeah, and I could just imagine the literal and figurative versions of that statement.

I forged ahead and crossed over onto the Thames path that followed the great river. My iPod helped too. Music had a way of resetting the brain. With Eminem and Rihanna battling out lying for the sake of love in my ears, I kept a steady pace and admired the architecture I passed on my route. The history in such an ancient city as London was vast, yet it contrasted with the bustling, modern world player in a perfect balance. Duality. I loved living here.

Modeling wasn't my only job. All students enrolled in the graduate program for art conservancy at the University of London were required to do practicum duties at the Rothvale Gallery in Winchester House. The Duke of Winchester's seventeenth-century mansion had housed U of L's Department of Art for about fifty years, and in my opinion, a more beautiful location to study certainly did not exist anywhere else.

Heading in through the employee entrance, I flashed my badge for security, then again for the conservation studios.

"Miss Brynne, good day to you." Rory. So proper and formal. The back room guard greeted me the exact same way every time I came in. I kept hoping that one time he would say something different. Shag any millionaire control freaks last night, Miss Brynne?