Heir Untamed - By Danielle Bourdon Page 0,2

for the Ahtissari's discovered your work during a search, presented it to the family, and they narrowed down their choice to you. It's a rather intensive offer, Miss Sinclair. They will request your presence at their estate for the next four months. You will photograph the family in various settings, at various times, along with an extensive portfolio of the house and grounds. They're looking for fine detail, unique perspective and imagination.”

Chey twitched in surprise. “Four months? Why so long?”

“They would like snaps of the seasons, Miss Sinclair, and the family engaged in activities suitable to fall and winter. You will need to be there as the foliage turns and the snows set in. I daresay, after viewing your work, that it's right up your alley.” Allar smiled.

Four months sounded like an eternity. That was an enormous commitment she wasn't sure she could make. Living on site would prevent her from finding another job in the meantime. As if he read her mind by watching her expression, Allar spoke up before she could.

“They are willing to pay you thirty-five thousand dollars, Miss Sinclair. Half now, and half when you're through. They expect all rights to the photos, as well, just so you're aware.”

Chey's mouth fell open. Thirty-five thousand dollars? Stunned into silence, she stared at the two men. That would easily salvage her apartment and allow her to sock a good sized chunk away for savings. She could return in four months and have the luxury of finding a job at will rather than rush to take whatever she had to.

Maybe fast food wasn't in her immediate future after all.

“I'm—wow. That's a very generous offer. I have no problem giving them the rights to the photos.” It wasn't standard practice, but for that price, Chey was more than willing to make an exception.

“So you're considering it, then? They're also paying for all travel expenses and any new equipment you might need.”

“Travel expenses. I see. Where, exactly are we traveling to?” Chey wondered if the family lived in an exclusive neighboring city. They had money, there was no doubt about that.

“To Latvala, Miss Sinclair. You will be photographing the Royal Family.”

“...excuse me?” Chey wasn't at all familiar with the country. She knew it was small and in Europe. That was about it. And what was this about Royals?

Allar's lips ticked like he was fighting off a smile. “The King and Queen? You will be staying at the castle, in your own quarters. Very nice accommodation, I might add. Not every guest is allowed to actually stay in residence with the Royalty.”

It all felt like a surreal dream. The Royal family wanted her to take their pictures? What might that do for her career?

Light it on fire, an inner voice insisted. What an incredible addition to her resume. She might even be able to go into business for herself when she returned with that kind of experience in her background.

Four months suddenly sounded terribly exciting. “Yes. I accept.”

Allar smiled. Reaching down into the briefcase, he withdrew a packet and extended it to her. “This is the contract and confidentiality agreement. All it really says is that you agree to give up rights to the photos and that you will not discuss anything you see or hear with outsiders regarding the family. Obviously, taking 'extra' photos to sell to anyone else, such as a rag, is off limits.”

“A rag?”

“Tabloids, Miss Sinclair.”

Chey took the envelope. “Oh, of course. No, I wouldn't dream of it. When do we leave? I have a few affairs to get in order.”

“As soon as possible. The family is offering a five thousand dollar bonus if we depart within twenty-four hours. When you've signed the contract, I'll issue you your first check. If you need a passport, we'll expedite one. The private jet is waiting at a local airstrip.” Allar and Hendrik stood at the same time.

Chey, clutching the packet and her purse, rose as well. When Allar extended his hand for a shake, Chey slipped hers into his and sealed the deal. For an extra five thousand dollars, she would have had everything ready to go by dinner if she had to.

“It shouldn't take me longer than twenty-four hours to get everything in order,” she said, releasing his hand. Hendrik didn't offer his, and she didn't push it. Chey had the idea he was the actual security rather than security-negotiator.

“We have your cell phone number, Miss Sinclair. We'll be in touch in the morning.” Allar, briefcase secure in his