Chapter One
DYLAN SPRUCE
The bellover the door chimes, and I hear Kyanne greet, “Welcome to Booty Boudoir Studio. You must be Larson and Tomy.”
I don’t hear the answer as I move deeper into the studio, stopping in front of my mirror. It’s one of those really big ones that you might find in the dressing rooms of Broadway performers, complete with bulbs around the perimeter.
Yep, still immaculate. Turning my face to the side, I tap the corner of my eye with my finger. Is my eyeliner smudged? I move closer to get a better look. No, it’s perfect too. Smirking, I turn toward the very back of the studio where my desk is. There are four monitors set up, each with a different set of photos. A different couple. Different individuals.
My attention moves between them as I touch them up and get them ready for print. This couple, with the harness and crop, is probably one of my favorite sets I’ve taken in a long time. One of the women was pure dominance, and it was gorgeous to see the way she handled her pet.
“Dylan?”
I turn away from the screen as Lawrence steps into the room with a travel mug.
“Your tea,” he says, setting it on my desk.
“Chai dragon, not regular chai?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Steeped at precisely two hundred and twelve degrees for three minutes and thirty seconds?”
“Yes.”
“Clover honey?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“The size of a quarter.”
“Mm. Oat milk?”
“Whole milk. Just until the color is cherry like wood.”
I nod in approval. “Reduced to one hundred and fifty degrees?”
“Yes.”
“With biscuit cookies on the side?” I eye the desk, seeing the distinct lack of cookies.
Lawrence sets a plate beside my travel mug. “Caramelized biscuit cookies. Two.”
I smile. “Very good, Lawrence.”
He smiles, his eyes trained on me as I take the lid off my mug and dip a cookie in. As soon as I put it in my mouth, I understand why he’s watching me. “Something’s different,” I say, narrowing my eyes.
“They didn’t have your normal cookie. No one does. The shipment came in with the wrong cookies, but I checked, and these are the same ingredients—even a single calorie less per serving. Three out of ten people like them better than your usual,” he says.
Better, huh? I dunk it into my tea again and take another bite. “They’re not awful, but I’m not so sure I’d go so far as to say they’re better. Thank you for looking into it for me.”
Lawrence grins. “Of course. Anything else?”
“Our next shoot is here. Will you get the studio ready for me?”
“On it.”
