Chapter Seventeen: Hidden Talents

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**

I've been coaching myself to get over it.

We called it. We're done. We won't try anymore, and I should get over it. So, that's what I'm doing by sitting in my apartment and eating Oreos. The GQ photoshoot is this afternoon, meaning I need to get there before the guest of honor gets there. Am I getting dressed? Nope. Apparently, watching Say Yes to the Dress (again) while eating fattening cookies is more important.

Pedro is sitting by my foot, staring up at me with a wide-eyed look. I feel as if he's judging me for indulging in sweets instead of doing my job.

That, or he wants an Oreo.

"Don't give me that look," I say to him. "I'm over it. I've cried my tears and have moved on. Who says I can't have Oreos because I want to?"

He scoots closer to me, his soft little front-paw landing on top of my pinky toe.

"Goddamnit, Pedro. Fine. I'll get dressed."

I'm sure that was the last thing Pedro wanted, but regardless, I set my cookies on the kitchen counter and head for the shower. When I wash my hair, the straightness of it shrivels up into the curls I was born with. But I don't put it into a bun when I get out, yet spread some hair mousse throughout my tresses and end up happy with the result. Now, in terms of my outfit, I'm conflicted. After the GQ shoot, I'm supposed to go to Alejandro's house to talk about the event with his uncle and the coordinators. I'm a little excited; ever since the coffee meeting, I've wanted to see him again. It's just pushing the thoughts about Sebastian out of my mind that make it less exciting.

Let it go, Leslie. Just let it go.

I decide on an olive green satin blouse with black slacks (that make my ass look amazing, if I may say so myself). After putting on my heels, I grab my things and head to the photoshoot. Sebastian and Sarah aren't there yet, so I speak with the photographer and the editor of GQ as they set up everything.

"We want the photos to reflect his interview," the photographer explains to me, quite animatedly. "The spread will be titled 'Under New Management;' his exposé is about how he went from playboy to president in a matter of months. I want fierce, serious and sexy. I want dominance. I want 'CEO' to exude from him. Someone will pick up the issue next month and think 'wow. It feels like I'm being bossed around just by the look in his eyes.' That is want I want—a powerful man."

I just nod and agree because, by the look in her eyes, any opposition would result in certain death.

It's not too hectic but will be once "the prince" arrives. And per my prediction, Sebastian's presence brings the photo shoot to life. I don't talk to Sebastian much when he gets to the shoot; he doesn't even look at me.

This is for work, Leslie. Focus.

After wardrobe and makeup, we start with the still shots. Sarah is standing next to me while the editor is right behind the assistant photographer, commenting on the photos as they appear on the computer screen. When I look at Sebastian, I'm actually honest with myself; he looks good. Really good. The stylist decided to keep it simple—dark blue trousers and a button down white shirt. Of course, they insisted on keeping the top few buttons unbuttoned. He's standing for most of the shots, and for some, he's leaning against the wall. I'm staring at him in a way that I know I shouldn't be, and luckily, I stop myself right before Sebastian makes full undivided eye contact with me. I look at him, draining all emotion from my expression so nothing can be assumed on his end. I turn the other way when his eyes are too much; his gaze is like the sun—staring at it for too long becomes way too intense.

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