Mr. Imperfect - By Savannah Wilde Page 0,89

glamour magazines. And she clearly did not give a shit. The glint in her eye all but said, Find every flaw you want. It doesn’t change the fact that I can make you see God anytime I feel like it.

The best models were always the ones who loved their bodies. Angelica was one of those rare few who fit in that category.

Rori made another round to observe the progress of the students. No one merited interruption. Like any artist with a willing muse, they were focused on depicting what had caught their attention. Some were focused in on one body part, others concentrating on the holistic impression of the woman. One of her favorite students had focused in on the soft slope of Angelica’s generous hips and curvy thighs in an angled profile. It maintained pure modesty while also capturing the unabashed sensuality of the woman.

“Excellent,” she murmured as she saw the student add the last shading details. This student had an obvious gift with realism but a passion for the abstract. His in-class work was phenomenal, but his original works ignored the skill he had honed and had frustrated, angry auras about them. Yet another tortured artist. Brilliance anchored by emotional torment. The combination was so common, it was a cliché.

Moving to the next student, Rori fought the urge to frown. Impassive. That’s what she needed to be. Just like she was with Mike.

Where was the idiot? He had no excuse to be lost and she knew he and the driver had found each other, since that was the last time he’d texted her.

Two hours ago.

She should just leave the class and get to the bottom of everything. It was where her head was at anyway. Her students wouldn’t care. Fredrik wouldn’t care. She was the only one who cared, which was the exact reason Rori had to stay right where she was and see the class through to the end.

Because if she didn’t, everyone would know she cared. And that would be bad, indeed.

.

Chapter 46

It had taken Mike an hour to make it past the lobby. The exhibit space was ideal for Mike’s particular style of capturing events. The open, airy gallery had very few natural obstructions and presented the issue of offering him too many options, rather than too few.

Seven cameras would probably work best, though. Five fixed, one on a track, and one handheld with him that he could use to roam around. He was supposed to check with Fredrik about where he could set up his monitor feed so it wouldn’t distract from the event. But Mike didn’t see how that would be a problem, since he could make anywhere in the building work. Even a linen closet.

He would place the first stationary camera at the entrance where it could capture the mood of each attendee as they arrived and departed. High and angled would be perfect. The next camera—

“Can I help you?” a female voice called out from behind Mike. He turned to see a platinum blonde with a pixie cut striding his way with purpose. She was his age, maybe a little older, but definitely more stylish.

Mike sent her a broad smile and held out his hand. “I’m Mike. I’m the videographer for Friday’s event. Just here to case out the logistics.”

She didn’t take his hand. “Who let you in? The exhibit is closed to visitors during the transition.”

“Sorry. I wasn’t aware of that. I was just on my way to meet up with Rori when I saw the space and just kind of showed myself in.”

“Right,” she said. “You just figured no one would care that you were alone in a room full of millions of dollars of art without any supervision.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Mike drawled, taking a second look at the art around him. Millions of dollars? Really?

“You think it’s overpriced,” she accused.

Mike shrugged. “I think art is worth what people will pay for it. That’ll always be the name of the game, right?”

She gave a small nod. “So, you call her Rori, huh?”

The quick change in subject caught Mike off guard. “Well, it’s her name.”

“No, her name is Aurora. Everyone that I’ve ever heard calls her that. Except you and Fredrik.”

He wasn’t quite sure what to say to that.

“Is she your girlfriend?”

“I, uh, no.”

“But you want her to be,” she amended. “That’s why you’re here under the ruse of filming. As an excuse to get close and get in her good graces.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“I would,”

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