Edward had left earlier for work and now I was planning to go to the nearest coffee shop where I could drink more coffee and search for another job. I had my laptop tucked away inside my purse and I planned to bolt my wake-up coffee on the way, then tuck myself in a dark corner with a tall vanilla iced latte and occupy my mind with job hunting. Something that would keep me from thinking about how I'd done another shoot with Flynn, even after that awful encounter at the party. We’d barely spoken two words to each other the entire time, and that had involved setting up for the shoot, managing instead to communicate through a series of gestures and monosyllables. We’d finished up in under two hours and he’d paid me a thousand dollars. I'd told him not to call me again and he hadn't responded. I suspected he would call me and I wondered if, this time, I’d find the guts to say no. And always, following that was the question that made my stomach twist. Would he show Edward the pictures?
