I cock a brow. "I'll buy you a bottle of scotch and we'll call it even."
"That's a deal." His fingers drum against his knee. "You're a better negotiator than your agent. Maybe you should skip the meeting and work out your own deals."
"Speaking of meetings," I segue into the real reason I invited him over. "I asked Sophia if she'd meet me for thirty minutes last week and I haven't heard a word from her since."
"Do you blame her?" He glances at his watch. "I'm not through foreplay in thirty. You need to learn to pace yourself."
I shake my head. "You're a fucking jerk."
"No." He leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. "You're the fucking jerk. I know what you said to her. You're damn lucky I'm your friend too, Nick. If I weren't, I'd take you to task for what you did."
I assumed Sophia had told him but when I called him earlier to ask him to stop by on his way home from work, he seemed fine. Apparently, he's not. I get it. They're friends and he's right to defend her.
"I was wrong," I admit easily. "I fucked up what I had with her. I want it back."
"It's not that simple." His gaze narrows. "Sophia's special. She's also smart. If she thinks a situation is bad for her, she'll avoid it at all costs."
I still. "You think I'm bad for her?"
He doesn't back down. Instead, he leans forward, his finger pointing directly at me. "I think your ego got in the way of what could have been a great thing for you both. You need to check it at that door if you want another chance, but I'm warning you. Don't fuck her around again. If she lets you back in, that'll be your last chance. She won't put up with your bullshit again."
I know he's right. "You think I have another chance?"
"You broke her in two, Nick, and do you know what the first words out of her mouth were the day after you tried to ruin her fucking life?"
"What?"
"She called me to ask if you were okay. She was worried about you. So, yeah, I think you've got a shot at another chance. Make it count. Sophia's one in a million."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Sophia
"The only thingI hate more than this is…" I tilt my head as I watch him intently. "I can't think of anything. I hate this more than anything else on the face of this earth."
He straightens, the black T-shirt he's wearing pulls taut over his muscular chest. My eyes scan his arms and the colorful tattoos that cover his skin. I checked out his website when I found out that I was going to meet him today. Noah Foster may be one of the most sought after photographers in the country, but he's also one of the most intimidating. It's not just that he's tall with broad shoulders. The jagged scar that covers his face tells a story that he's not willing to. He was hurt at some point, but that's not evident in the tone of his voice or the gentle way he's been guiding me.
"You'll survive, Sophia." He tosses me a smile from where he's standing three feet in front of me. "Try and loosen up. Think of something that makes you happy."
The only thing I've been able to think about since I walked into his studio is Nicholas. It's not just because I can't getmy mind off the man. Nicholas owns a Noah Foster original photograph. I saw it hanging in the foyer of his apartment the first time I was there. It's a tasteful shot of a woman. Her face isn't visible, but the curves and contours of her nude body are. It's breathtaking.
"I used to follow your work," I say it before I realize that it's a backhanded compliment. "What I meant to say is that I always thought the photographs you took a few years ago were breathtaking."
The corner of his mouth twitches. "The photographs I take now are breathtaking too. It's just in a much different way."
I know he's right. All of the galleries on his website feature work he's completed recently. In addition to the gorgeous selection of portraits of notable New York residents, he has an entire online portfolio devoted to people in the city who don't have a home of their own. Those pictures, in particular, are filled with turbulent emotions. The joy mixed with sorrow in the faces of his subjects is mesmerizing.
"Gabriel told me you used to work for him." He fills the silence in this studio with his words. "What kind of a boss is my cousin?"
"He's the best," I say quietly. "I learned a lot from him and now he's given me the chance of a lifetime."
"When he called to ask me to handle your portrait, I was honored." He points the camera in his hands at me before he looks through the viewfinder. "He doesn't usually handle stuff like that himself."
He's right. It's always been my job to book photo shoots for the designers that come on board. I've spoken to Noah's assistant more than once when I've reached out looking for an opening in his schedule so he could handle a portrait session. I never thought I'd be the one in front of his camera.
"He's always spoken very highly of you, Noah."
"Gabriel's one of the good ones." He snaps a picture. "This is a test shot so don't flip the fuck out."
