The Officer's Runaway Wife & Secret Son novel Chapter 57

Clara cranked the steering wheel hard, driving off in the opposite direction.

Today was her scheduled photoshoot with Simon.

They had often taken these kinds of gigs during college to earn extra pocket money, modeling everything from high fashion to tacky matching pajamas for online retailers.

She parked in front of the photography studio. Simon rushed over, wrapped in a thick down jacket. He pulled open her door, took one look at her face, and froze.

"Holy crap. Did you go sell blood or something? Why are you so pale?"

"Just didn't sleep well. Makeup will cover it. What are we shooting today?"

Simon handed her a few sample shots. "It's a promotional campaign for that bridal studio again."

Clara scanned the images.

Snow, embraces, almost-kisses.

"This is a bit intimate," Clara said, pointing to a photo of a couple hugging. "If Rhys sees this, he won't just think you're gay—he'll probably break your legs anyway."

"I'm your friend, not a homewrecker," Simon rolled his eyes dramatically, ushering her inside. "Besides, we're sacrificing ourselves for art. We're doing this for money."

"Do you really need the money?"

"Who complains about having too much money? You might have your three-million-dollar diamond ring, but I still have to support my man."

At the mention of the diamond ring, Clara instinctively touched the band on her ring finger, the cold metal sobering her up.

If Rhys could skip work and lie for Margot, what did it matter if she took a few photos for a friend?

"Fine. As long as I don't have to act lovey-dovey with Rhys, I can act with anyone."

Simon knew she must have been wronged again, so he grinned. "That's right. Acting with me is your luck."

After changing, Clara walked out in a satin wedding gown.

Satin showed no mercy. Carry a little extra weight and it looked bulky; be a touch too thin and it hung loose and lifeless.

But Clara had lost so much weight recently due to her stomach issues that wearing the dress gave her a sort of fragile, broken beauty.

Simon had changed into a black suit, his hair styled back in a sleek, trendy look. He looked surprisingly dashing.

He extended his arm like a gentleman.

"Shall we, Mrs. Huntington? I'm letting you to be my girlfriend for half a day."

The shooting location was by the abandoned railway tracks behind the arts district. The snow from the previous days hadn't melted, making for a perfect scene.

Shawn, one of Brighton City's notorious playboys and one of Rhys's childhood friends.

He was just passing through, but when he spotted a stunner taking wedding photos by the tracks, he did a double-take. That second glance nearly made his jaw drop.

Shawn rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't seeing things.

"What the hell..."

He gasped, pulled out his phone, and snapped a rapid series of photos.

Although the distance was considerable, the image of the beauty clinging to the handsome man, smiling radiantly while he held her with zero hesitation, was crystal clear. Their deep eye contact was undeniable.

Anyone seeing it would say: What a picture-perfect couple.

Shawn shook his head, pulled up Rhys's number, and sent the photos right away.

...

They shot until dusk, when the photographer finally yelled, "That's a wrap!"

Simon quickly threw the down jacket over Clara, rubbing his hands together and blowing warm air into them.

"This is killing me. Someone else can earn this money next time. It's so cold I think my implants are going to freeze and fall off."