Over the next two hours, I witnessed Igor's innate talent in front of the camera.
He needed minimal direction—every pose brimmed with power and intensity. Standing still, he was like a statue. In motion, he moved like a leopard poised to strike.
"Turn and look at Elena," the photographer directed.
Igor's eyes found mine.
The flash fired, and the world went quiet. His gaze was too intense, too raw, like he wanted to pull me into those green depths. My heart pounded, my palms grew slick with sweat.
"Amazing!" the photographer shouted, exhilarated. "That look! Hold it!"
But I knew—it wasn't acting. It was genuine hunger.
During the outfit change, I adjusted his collar on a deep-V tank that exposed swaths of his tattooed chest.
"Lower the neckline," I said, my fingers hooking the edge.
His breath quickened. I looked up and caught him staring, his eyes deep enough to drown in.
"Elena," he rasped, voice low.
"Just fixing your clothes," I played dumb, but my face flushed hot.
"You're teasing me," he said, grabbing my wrist, his thumb stroking my pulse. "I can feel how fast your heart's racing."
"It's work time," I pulled back, my voice shakier than I wanted. "Be professional, Mr. Vorontsov."
He chuckled low, the sound making my knees weak.
For the final set, focusing on clothing details, I knelt to adjust his pant hems. From this angle, looking up, I saw his taut jawline and the subtle roll of his Adam's apple.
"Don't look at me like that," he said suddenly, his voice strained like a taut string.
"What?"
"On your knees, staring up with those eyes," his fingers raked through his hair. "Keep it up, and I'll throw you over my shoulder and carry you to the changing room—right in front of your staff."
I shot to my feet, my face burning.
The photographer called it. "That's a wrap! Great work, everyone!"
The staff began packing up. Anna sidled over. "Boss, the pics are incredible! This line's going to explode. And your guy? Total vibe. Ever think about signing him as a brand ambassador?"
Before I could respond, a large hand encircled my waist from behind.
"No," Igor's voice rumbled in my ear. "I model only for her."
Anna grinned knowingly and slipped away. The studio emptied out, leaving just the two of us.
He turned me to face him. Those green eyes burned with something dangerous.
"Thanks," I said, trying to keep things normal. "You really saved the day."
He took my hand and pressed it to his chest—right over his heart.
"Here," his voice was low and earnest, his gaze so intense it stole my breath. "I want your name tattooed."
I blinked. "What?"
