*SAMPLE* Capture This [GirlxGirl]

Chapter 1

Give me sexy. Snap. Give me innocent. Snap. Give me ferocious. Snap.

I'd love to tell you that being the daughter of one of New York's most successful men was hard for me. I'd love to tell you that posing for cameras and paparazzi day in and day out was a struggle. I'd love to tell you these things, because I love attention. I love sympathy and empathy. But if I'm being honest, and I am, it was the dream. I got paid by the truck load for pouting; for strutting; for wooing.

I didn't care that people all over the world had three jobs to provide financial support for their families. I didn't care that there were dirty old men begging for money on the streets, and a big contributing factor to my lack of care was my oblivion. All I saw when I was out in public were shops, paps and occasionally myself, in the reflection of shop windows or in my two hundred dollar compact. I didn't pay attention to the ragged man at my feet, holding up a three day old coffee cup with a few cents inside. I didn't pay attention to the teen mom, stressing at all three of her children to keep up with her; keep their hands off each other; be sensible.

Back then, it was all about me. I saw to that. So did my father. He gave me everything I ever asked for. A pony, an $11,000 dress, a priceless diamond encrusted necklace. I was showered with gifts and fortunes some wouldn't even dream of. And I could say that "money doesn't buy happiness" and that I was constantly depressed with all this fame and fortune. That, however, would be a lie. I loved it. I loved it all. But the part I liked best? The attention. I just couldn't get enough.

All this money meant a lot of upper class friends, who shared my thoughts and feelings as though we were the same person. And since we were all so alike, we got along just fine. But I was always the Queen Bee, wherever I went. I mean, a world famous model with a world famous businessman as a father is always going to attract admiration and envy, whoever the company.

So, now that I'm done bragging, I should probably get to the point where I tell you that, little did I know, all of this would soon change. I should also probably tell you that this change was first initiated when I met Rose English. Yes, why don't I start there?

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"Where the hell is Clarissa?" December 2nd 2006. My photographer was nowhere to be seen. Markus, one of my many stylists and advisers, approached me with some experimental fabric in his hands.

"Alex, darling, I hate to be the bearer of bad news but Clarissa's gone." He said. "You didn't know?"

I breathed a snort of disbelief. "What do you mean she's gone?"

"I mean she left to go do volunteering in Africa. Probably to make herself feel better about being a total bitch her whole life." He speculated, and I couldn't help but sense that he was glad she was gone. "I thought you knew?"

"What? Obviously I didn't know. Who the hell is going to fill in for her then?."

"We've already hired someone to take her place. She had great recommendation letters from-"

"I don't care who recommended her. Where is she?" I demanded.

Markus sighed and nodded towards the back of the room. I looked over his shoulder to see a young blonde, of a similar age to me, fiddling with the camera equipment laid out on the desk before her. Although she wasn't small, she looked tiny compared to everyone in the room. It must have been her posture, or the way she was standing, but to me she looked like a timid little mouse. I threw my hands up and approached her.

"If you're done playing with your toys, we all have jobs to be getting on with." I remarked impatiently. She didn't even look up at first. I leaned in closer. "Hello?"

She jumped a little and looked up. Upon seeing me she stood upright, and I could see that she was taller than I had initially assumed, and was actually quite an attractive girl. Not that I would have been caught admitting that.

"I'm sorry Miss Valentine. I'm pretty much done here. Are you ready?"

"For the past half hour. Let's go." I snapped.

She gathered her equipment as I made my way to the screen. I surveyed the props. Since we were in the middle of winter, my scene was a snowy wonderland, and the props included a sleigh, fake snow, a lantern and an oversized candy cane. It wasn't a lot to go with, but I knew how to work with these things.

I turned to the crew.

"Are we set?" I asked, earning several nods and smiles in return, and was relieved to see that the new photographer had set up her equipment and was ready to go. She scratched the top of her head.

"Alright let's start off with the candy cane. If you could pick that up and maybe, lean on it with one hand. We'll see how it goes from there." For the timid girl I had taken her for, she sure had an authoritative tone. And, as the shoot progressed, I found that she didn't entirely suck at her job.

"Yes, now put your free hand on your hip and give me a wink. We're going for the bad girl look with this one." I could see that the rest of the crew were impressed, and not just with me. "That's great, lean forward a little...Perfect." That bitch was stealing my spotlight. A short while later someone called for a lunch break. I headed over to the buffet table, where I found myself standing beside the photographer. I had to mark my territory, and now was the chance. She had to know who was in charge.

"If you are even a minute late next time, I'll fire you on the spot and see to it that you never get another job in this state. No, in this country. Are we clear?" I was surprised to see that she was doing her best to hold back a laugh. Was she laughing at me?

"Of course, Miss Valentine. Understood."

"Is something about this funny to you?" I stared her down.

"No ma'am." She took her food and walked away. I looked after her, jaw dropped, in disbelief. She should have known better than to treat me like that. My father owned this magazine, after all. And the modelling company. He owned most of New York. Sara, another of my stylists, approached.

"Close your mouth honey, you might catch flies."

"I hope there are no flies in this room or someone's getting fired." I threatened, somewhat half-heartedly in comparison to my usual temper.

Sara breathed a laugh. "So do you like the new photographer. She comes highly recommended by-"

"I want Clarissa back. She's been my photographer for as long as I can remember. This one has an attitude."

"Please, Clarissa was your photographer for about a year. And you didn't like her at first either, remember?" She reminded me. "Give Rose a chance."

"Who's Rose?"