Photo shoot

I never get much sleep because by quarter to five, one of the man that was on the jet with us comes to wake me up.

I sit up in bed feeling groggy, as this muscular man glances at me.

"The boss wants you ready to go in ten minutes," he tells me.

I nod, stretch, and yawn before throwing my covers off.

When I get to the bathroom, I am made full aware that my eyes are red and puffy. There is also a present of a cold sore on the right side of my upper lip.

I brush it all off as nothing. Hop in the shower to wash only the necessary areas, then hurry to get dressed and apply my makeup.

When I am about to knock on the door, it is pushed open with Mr Cross standing there looking hot and dressed in a maroon colour three piece suit with a grey, black and white tie and a black shirt underneath.

He looks me up and down, then smirks.

"Good, you are ready and actually dressed well today.''

I feel like twirling in the lime green skirt suit I am wearing at the small complement.

"I have a photo shoot to attend. Please make sure no unwanted people are there and I don't want any questions. I'm only there to take pictures, and that's it."

I nod.

When we arrive at the location for the photo shoot, that is nestled in downtown Miami, all I can see is people hurrying to work in their crisp suits, million dollar cars going by and cop cars.

"After this is over, we are going to Lincoln Road for early morning cocktails," Mr Cross said.

I never object. Neither did any of the men we are with.

We walk up the short steps of the imposing brownstone building to see people waiting at the door with drinks and sandwiches.

"Good morning. Welcome to the Myers hotel. I am Vince, let my show up to the meeting room." A man with a thick Hispanic accent said.

The room that he leads us to is already set up with large white lights, cameras, a white backdrop and a small stool for Mr Cross to sit on.

"Mr Cross, so nice to finally meet you. I am Mike, and I will be your photographer today." The young man said.

He then directs my boss on where to sit, tells him how to tilt his head, then begins to snap a few photos.

Our eyes lock, Mr Cross smirks, and I can hear Mike telling him that his pose is perfect.

He then tells him to stand, where he snaps a few more pictures.

Soon enough, Mike holds his camera in one hand, then tells us the shoot is over.

"Nice working with you, Mr Cross. We will send the pictures to you as soon as they are cleaned and process." Mike tells him.

"Good, tell the magazine that I would like to choose the photos I wish them to use and publish."

"Very well, sir." Mike nods.

"Mr Cross, we have the main restaurant setup if you want to have breakfast here," a man said.

"No, thank you. I have made prior arrangements."

The smile the man is wearing wavers a bit before he nods.

Mr Cross wastes on time leaving from the hotel, which he instructs his driver on where to go.

Not long after, we are speeding through a light traffic, over a bridge and to where the city starts to reveal a beach lined by better looking store fronts.

After the car is parked, Mr Cross and I, along with two of his bodyguards, walk down a stretch of road, passing people who stare at us and hostess or store attendants trying to get us to stop by their business.

And as much as I wanted to peek inside a couple of the stores, I keep up with Mr Cross strides.

We finally stop at a place called the Aura, where a girl in a badly styled blonde wig smiles at my boss but ignores everyone else that is with him.

"Are you serving cocktails at this time?" Mr Cross asks the blushing female.

She nods, then leads us to a table. The men that are hired to protect Mr Cross sit at two different tables, while we sit in the centre, being walled in by them.

The girl place a menu in Mr Cross' hand, then drops mine rudely on the table.

There is a chuckle, before my boss looks up at the girl.

"Don't be disrespectful now."

She puts on a confused look on her face, acting as if she doesn't know what he is talking about.

"You dropped my companion menu, so please. Have a little manners, do as they trained you to do and pick it up, then place it in her hand, just as how you had done with me."

I feel like smirking at her, when she does as Mr Cross says in a stiff manner.

"And please, get someone else to tend to us."

After nodding, and walking away, a short man comes by to apologise, offering us free meals and a membership cards.

"Can we just order?" Mr Cross asks.

The man nod, "yes of course."

"Lady first." Mr Cross gesture to me.

"Can I have the chicken marsala, parmesan truffle fries, and cranberry juice?"

The man nods, writing it all down, then turns to Mr Cross.

"Spicy shrimp linguini, and keep the sex on the beach coming."

The man hurries away, not stopping when a woman at another table tries to stop him.

Soon after, a waiter comes by, placing fruit salads and freshly brewed coffee before us.

"Please enjoy. Your main course will be ready soon." He does a deep bow, then hurries off.

"Is it always like this?" I ask.

"Like what?"

"People falling over you."

"It's comes with the lifestyle."

"Do you like it?"

"Do I like female throwing themselves at me expecting nothing in return? It depends on the female."

"Hmm," I say, nodding my head.