Page 15 of Marry Me Not
“Yeah. Let’s just get this over with,” I said roughly. Fabiana turned pale. The photographer just nodded and gestured for us to follow him.
We walked in silence toward an arch at the edge of the property where the photographer drew to a stop. “Here we are, could you two step up onto the platform?”
Fabiana tripped on her way up. My hands shot out and clamped around her waist. The second I touched her, something strange jolted through me, like static electricity sparking across my palms.
The fuck?
Her gaze flew to mine, and for one disorienting second, I wondered if she’d felt it too.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “My heel got caught in the grass.”
Our faces were only inches apart. Her skin was flawless, and her mouth was slightly parted. For one absurd moment, I had the urge to wrap her curls around my fist and find out if Nettle tasted as good as she looked.
Get a grip.
“Fabiana, put your hand on Cosimo’s chest so we can see the ring.”
“Is this okay?” She shot the photographer a nervous look.
“Great. Cosimo, pull her into you a bit more.”
I tugged her closer, moving her around with the efficiency of someone arranging furniture. But as the photographer fiddled with his camera and told us to hold still, she definitely didn’t feel like an inanimate object as she pressed against my side. She was soft and warm, and I was uncomfortably aware of every point where our bodies touched.
An irritating heat spread over the back of my neck.
“No, the lighting is hitting you all wrong,” the photographer said, frowning at the camera. “Can you turn a bit more eastward?”
I turned us. Fabiana was stiff as a board in my arms.
“Nope.” The photographer lowered the camera and looked at us the way a teacher might look at a group of badly behaving students. “Fabiana, you’re tense. The camera is picking up on it.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll try to relax,” she said in a shaky voice. Her temples shone with a thin layer of sweat.
I frowned at her. “What’s going on with you?”
Her throat bobbed on a swallow, and she lifted her eyes to meet mine. “Nothing.”
It didn’t look like nothing to me.
“It’s just some pictures,” I muttered. “What’s the big deal?”
“Let’s just try again,” she called out to the photographer, ignoring my question.
“Okay, look this way. Smile. No. Not like that. That’s a grimace, not a?—”
Fabiana pushed away from me.
“We really need to get these done if we want to catch the golden hour,” the photographer said, sounding annoyed.
I shot him a glare. I was getting really fucking tired of him acting like he was the boss here. “Take a hike. Come back in five minutes.”
“But the light?—”
“I don’t give a fuck about the light.”
He looked more than a little offended, but he was smart enough not to argue. I waited until he was out of earshot before I stalked over to my fiancée.
Her back was to me. She had one palm anchored against the column and another lifting the hair off her neck.
