MELISSA'S POV
"No. No. No."
That was not—
"Xavier?" I said before I could stop myself.
He turned around like this was normal.
Like I wasn't standing here with my mouth open.
Like I hadn't just signed a modeling contract, only to see him standing at the center of the studio — in front of the lights, dressed in all black, hair pushed back, arms crossed like this was his set.
My blood ran cold.
"Hey," he said casually.
Marco stepped up beside me, smiling. "Don't look so shocked! You two do know each other. Half the internet thinks you're dating already."
I blinked. "What?"
"Oh, come on," Marco laughed. "That one video of you two at the fundraiser? That clip has like three million views. People are obsessed. Honestly, I thought the tension was part of the appeal."
"Tension?" I repeated.
Xavier shrugged, like this wasn't weird. "We've met."
Marco grinned. "Iconic."
"We're on the same team," I said tightly.
"Exactly! It's perfect. The chemistry, the backstory, the looks—this campaign is going to break the internet."
Chemistry?
There's no chemistry.
I stepped back. "You didn't say he'd be here."
Marco tilted his head. "Why would I? He's been signed to the brand since last season. He's the face of the men's line."
I stared at him.
"You okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine," I lied.
Xavier tilted his head. "You don't look fine."
"Don't talk to me."
That made Marco pause. "Wait. What's happening right now?"
"Nothing important," Xavier said quickly, eyes still on me.
I ignored them both.
I turned toward the door.
"Melissa," Marco called, tone sharp now. "Please don't walk out."
I stopped, breathing hard.
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Look, I know this is weird. But this shoot? It's huge. We're talking national billboard, full-page spreads, main banners. This could make your career."
"I didn't sign up to work with him."
Marco gave me a confused look. "You guys seemed fine at the gala. Everyone thought you two were… you know."
I laughed—cold and short. "Yeah, we're not."
"I didn't ask to work with you either," Xavier added.
I turned and glared at him.
Marco blinked. "Wait, so… you two aren't a thing?"
"No."
"Absolutely not."
He looked truly lost. "But… the glances, the outfits, the interviews…"
"All for show," I said quickly.
Marco rubbed his temples. "God, social media really lies."
Xavier raised an eyebrow. "Or maybe it tells the truth and someone's just in denial."
My jaw tightened. "Don't start."
"I'm not starting. Just saying."
"Stop talking."
"Gladly."
Marco held up both hands. "Okay. Okay. Look. I don't care what happened between you two. But can you survive a few hours in front of a camera without biting each other's heads off?"
I didn't answer.
I looked at Xavier.
Still smug.
Still calm.
Like this wasn't bothering him at all.
I hated that.
I hated him.
But I also hated the thought of walking away and looking weak.
"Fine," I said at last. "Let's get it over with."
"Great!" Marco clapped. "Love the energy!"
I shot Xavier a look.
He winked.
God, I wanted to slap it off his face.
"Alright, you two," Marco said, rubbing his hands together. "Let's warm up with something easy."
Warm up?
I was already on fire.
The stylist gave me a pair of strappy heels and a white silk jacket to throw over my top. Xavier, of course, was already in place — dressed in a black turtleneck and fitted trousers, giving model like it was his birthright.
The lights flashed once.
Marco clapped. "Melissa, stand closer. Don't be afraid of him."
I stepped forward.
Not too close.
But enough.
The photographer called out, "Good. Now turn slightly, shoulder toward him. Xavier, arm around her waist."
I tensed.
"Come on," Marco added. "We need connection. Intensity."
Xavier moved behind me, his hand brushing lightly against my back as he wrapped it around my waist.
I flinched.
"Relax," he whispered near my ear. "I don't bite. Unless provoked."
"Don't push me."
He smiled.
I could feel it without even turning my head.
"You're doing great," Marco said, stepping back. "More tension. More edge."
Tension?
Oh, we had that in buckets.
Xavier's voice dropped to a whisper again.
"You smell like vanilla," he said, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.
"Back off."
"Can't. You're in my contract now."
I clenched my jaw.
The photographer moved around us, snapping shot after shot.
"Look at her," the stylist whispered. "She's giving full Ice Princess."
Xavier heard it too. I felt his smile grow against my skin.
"You hear that?" he said low. "Ice Princess. I like that for you."
I snapped my head toward him. "Shut up."
He didn't.
He leaned closer, voice softer now, just for me.
"You're mad because you want to punch me… or because you don't?"
"I'm mad because you're in my face."
"And in your head?"
I shoved his hand off my waist.
Marco raised a hand. "Whoa, whoa. Everything okay?"
"I need water," I said tightly.
I walked off toward the water bottles and grabbed one with shaking fingers.
Behind me, Xavier laughed under his breath.
I spun around. "This isn't funny."
"It kinda is."
"You think I'm playing with you?"
"No," he said, stepping closer. "That's what makes it fun."
I blinked at him.
He wasn't even flustered. Not a single muscle in his face moved.
Calm. Cool. Infuriating.
"You're such a child," I muttered.
He grinned. "And you're such a queen. What a combo."
"Ugh."
"Melissa," Marco called, "we're gonna switch the background. Can you come back in five?"
"Sure."
I turned and walked away to the dressing area, heart racing like I'd just finished a sprint.
I sat down on the chair and let out a long breath.
One hand gripped the armrest. The other tightened around the water bottle.
How the hell was I supposed to do this?
How was I supposed to stand that close to him, while every part of my brain screamed he's your sister's boyfriend?
And worse…
Why did part of me like how easy it was?
Why did it feel good to see him fluster me, when no one else ever could