Nola

Oh my God, I already regretted this.

As soon as I'd agreed to replace Sabrina, I'd been whisked off to the makeshift dressing room, where I was briskly stripped down to my bra and panties, given a white bathrobe, and then a gaggle of girls and one weirdly muscular guy descended on me, armed with curling tongs and hair products, brushes and sponges and mascara wands. All I could do was sit in the chair I'd been provided, and let the hair and makeup team do their thing, even though I felt like I was being pulled in a dozen different directions.

When they were finished, and I finally got a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I didn't know what to think.

I looked . . . kind of hot.

But also not like myself at all.

My skin had been made porcelain, my lips and eyes done in the most amazing shades of bronze and gold. My hair fell in thick, loose curls around my shoulders, except a section at the top which had been sleekly back-combed and held in place by pearl-topped pins.

Mike would've hated it.

I tilted my head this way and that, watching the way my skin caught the light; they'd dusted some kind of luminous powder on my face.

"We just need to get you dressed," one of the makeup girls told me.

I'd been so focused on the hair and makeup side of things that I'd forgotten I wouldn't wear my own clothes for the video.

Two more girls came into the room, one of them carrying a garment bag. She unzipped it and lifted out something white and silky, and my stomach flipped because whatever it was looked beautiful, but there also didn't seem to be much of it.

She hung my outfit on a nearby rack, then both girls approached me. I felt suddenly self-conscious, wanting to burrow deep into my bathrobe, because only Mike had seen me in my underwear in a long time, and he'd always found something to criticise.

Would these girls see the same flaws?

I hardly measured up to the statuesque models I'd seen wandering around the mansion, and when the girls tried to remove my robe, I instinctively shied back. The girls exchanged puzzled looks.

"Sorry, just not used to this," I said.

The girls removed my robe, then stood back to examine me. I fought not to wrap my arms around myself.

"The black bra has to go. It'll show through the dress," said the taller girl.

This time I did cross my arms, hiding the offending bra.

"The cups we had for Sabrina won't fit her," the shorter girl mused.

Glancing down at my modest cleavage, I concluded that Sabrina Willis must have more in the boob department than I did.

"The dress is too sheer for her to go braless," Tall Girl said, examining me like I was a mannequin.

"We could cover her up with nipple tape," Shorter Girl suggested.

I knew they were just doing their job, and trying to make the best of the mess that Sabrina had created, but the way they discussed me as if I wasn't here made me squirm.

The girls talked among themselves a little longer, in low enough voices that I only caught half of what they said, before agreeing on the nipple tape.

I still hadn't been consulted, and my palms were starting to sweat. Exactly how skimpy was my outfit?

I soon found out.

Sabrina might have bigger boobs than me, but apparently we had similar size hips, because the teeny tiny thong that had been meant for her fitted me just fine. Which would have been great except I hated thongs. I also didn't love that the wardrobe girls stripped me buck naked in the middle of the room, and applied a strip of nude tape across each nipple, before helping me into the thong and then the dress. They fussed around me, arranging folds of fabric, smoothing the dress down, fiddling with the golden ribbons that ran around my waist. I didn't dare look in a mirror until they'd finished, too apprehensive about what I might see.

Finally the girls deemed me dressed, then they bustled off, and I was finally left alone to examine my reflection.

The breath rushed out of my lungs.

"Oh, shit," I whispered.

Now I understood why Tavish had mentioned that I was taller than Sabrina. The dress – if I could even call it that – skimmed my thighs, leaving almost nothing to the imagination, and there was no way in hell I could risk bending over, especially not in a thong. My ass would be out for the whole world to see.

The front of the dress was little more than two narrow strips of fabric that went over my boobs, and as the tall wardrobe girl had observed, the material was very sheer. Even with the boob tape, I felt exposed.

A series of slim golden ribbons crisscrossed the waist of the dress, and there were gold buckles on the shoulders, giving the illusion that if the buckles were unclipped, the whole front of the dress would collapse. Maybe it wasn't an illusion.

"Slutty Roman toga," I muttered.

China came into the room, now wearing a white bathrobe. "Oh, wow," she said, giving me an approving once-over.

I squeezed my hands tightly in front of me. "It's a little skimpier than I expected."

"Yeah, but you look hot."

Did I?

I'd thought so when I first saw how the makeup team had done my face, but now all I could see was everything Mike had complained about. My legs weren't long enough. I had cellulite on my thighs and butt cheeks. My boobs were too small. My hips were too wide.

"You don't think so?" China said, reading my conflicted expression.

My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. It made no sense that I'd spilled my Mike woes to Darius when I barely knew him, yet I couldn't do the same with China, but the words refused to come.

Her face softened. "If it's too much, you don't have to do this."

"No, I want to," I said, and surprised myself by how true that was.

This was no longer just about not letting down China and everyone else who'd come here today. It was about challenging myself. It was about leaping out of my comfort zone – no, not my comfort zone. The one that Mike had shoved me into.

I hadn't used to look in a mirror and catalogue everything that was wrong with me. I'd actually used to like how I looked. If there was a chance of ever getting back to that frame of mind, I needed to start somewhere.

"What do I need to do?" I said.

"Right, so I appreciate you're not familiar with the track, and you're being thrown in at the deep end, so bear with me," China said. "The song is called "Temptation", and, unsurprisingly, that's what it's about."

I glanced again at my skimpy outfit in the mirror. Yep, no mystery there.

"A lot of the song and video will be left open to interpretation, but the gist of it is that the women are something more than human," China said. "They're goddesses, angels, nymphs, succubi, however anyone wants to view them."

That explained why she'd rounded up so many stunning, statuesque women to appear alongside her.

And then there was me.

Who was neither stunning nor statuesque.

I swallowed and fought the urge to fidget with my dress or pick my fingers. The makeup team had applied a set of shimmery gold fake nails; the last thing I wanted was to accidentally pull one off, or pick my fingers raw and bleed on the white dress.

China was still talking and I hastily tuned back in. There was no point agreeing to save the shoot by taking Sabrina's place if I screwed everything up because I wasn't listening.

"Are you okay with that?" China said, intently studying my face.

Shit, shit, shit, what had I missed?

"I'll completely understand if you're not comfortable with properly straddling Darius or sitting in his lap, so we can shoot it from different angles to make it look like that's what you're doing, if you prefer," China said.

She wanted me to what?

"Straddle . . . him?" I squeaked.

Had it suddenly got hot in here?

China nodded. "We're not shooting a softcore porno, or anything like that, but I want this to be sexy. Suggestive." She grinned. "Tempting."

My mouth felt like dust.

"Can you do that?" China asked.

I had no idea how to be sexy, especially when it had been so long since I'd felt comfortable in my own skin. But all I could focus on was that China wanted me to play the role of some kind of supernatural sex-goddess seducing a human Darius. I'd had dirty dreams like this. Maybe it wouldn't be real, but it was an opportunity I had to take.

I nodded.

China beamed. "Great. It might feel weird doing this on camera, but just try to forget that anyone else is there, okay?"

Right. Darius and I wouldn't be alone. I deflated a little.

I needed to remember that this wasn't a dream. This was a job. I could straddle Darius as much as China and Tavish told me to, but it wouldn't mean a damn thing, and I was a fucking fool if I tried to convince myself otherwise.

"What if I screw up?" I asked. "I've never done anything like this before."

I was referring to the seduction as much as the filming.

China shrugged. "Then we shoot the scene again. We never get it right on the first try. Have you seen my video for "Tongue-Tied"?"

My mouth felt dry again but for a very different reason. "Tongue-Tied" was one of the China's sexiest solo songs, complete with a raunchy music video that Mike had loved. It was one of the videos that he'd watched over and over again, always when he knew I was around, like he was making a point of drooling over women who were far sexier and more beautiful than I'd ever be.

I couldn't say any of that to China, so I managed a jerky nod.

"You know the scene on the pool table?" China said.

Oh yes, I knew every single frame. Thanks, Mike.

"You wouldn't believe how many times I fucked that up. I lost count of the takes in the end," China said, her mouth wryly twisting.

I almost couldn't believe that. China was so gorgeous, so confident in the way she moved and took up space, and just existed in the world. How could she possibly get anything wrong?

"Tavish won't get mad at me?" I said.

China tilted her head, a little frown creeping across her face, and too late I realised how nervous I'd sounded – more nervous than someone simply facing a new experience. I was half-expecting Tavish to yell at me the way Mike had, to verbally strip me raw.

"Tavish is as grateful as I am that you're stepping in at such short notice," China said. "No one's expecting you to work miracles, Nola, but I have complete confidence in you."

"Why?" I couldn't help asking.

She gave me a gleaming grin. "Guess I'm just a good judge of character. You ready?"

Taking a deep breath, I braced myself.

"Let's do this."