Brothers of Paradise Series

Endless possibilities.

It’ll be tempting to try to get close again, I know myself well enough for that. What’s more-it’ll be tempting to get to know her better. She’s surprised me every step of this trip.

She’d called me predictable. Me, while she is quickly turning out to be the most unpredictable person I’ve ever met.

She’s broken ever box I tried to fit her into.

I put a hand over my forehead and keep my eyes closed against the bright Kenyan light. “I’ll sleep on the couch,” I say. “It’s comfortable enough.”

Ivy gives a soft laugh. “Don’t be silly. Your feet are hanging off it. You don’t fit, Rhys.”NôvelDrama.Org content rights.

I open my eyes to respond but fall silent. No words come out. She’s standing over by her open suitcase. And she’s not wearing a shirt.

Oh, she’s in a bra, and perhaps she thinks that shouldn’t matter to me-I’ve seen her in it before, not to mention shot her in a swimsuit-but it does. Because now it’s just her and me. Because there’s a locked door between us and the outside world.

And because I know how sweet her lips taste.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting ready.” She rummages through the suitcase. I watch as she grabs what looks like a ridiculously sized toiletry bag. No human in existence has ever needed a toiletry bag that big.

“We have two hours to go.”

“Yes, but there’s no hair or makeup artist here.” She tucks the bag under her arm and scoops out another one, like she’s carrying all of the world’s products in there. “I’m doing it myself. The agency sent a list of instructions, so I’ll just follow those.”

I swallow. “This is unusual for you, right?”

“Sharing a room with a photographer?” She’s smiling as she says it, but it still hits me in my gut. It takes me a second before I can answer.

“That too, but handling… all of that yourself.”

“Yes. I’m still not really sure why they didn’t send a stylist with us…” she muses, rummaging for something. How much stuff does she need? “Considering how much they’re spending on us, and how important this campaign is, I can’t quite understand it.”

I put a hand under my head. A brief pang of guilt hits me, but I shove it away. Telling her I’m the reason we travelled like this-that the bet with Ben had specified no crew and no assistants-would accomplish what, exactly?

Besides, she’ll get paid regardless of the outcome. It doesn’t matter which campaign is chosen as the winning one. It only matters for my pride.

I close my eyes again with that knowledge. “So you need two hours to get ready?”

“Scoff all you like,” she says, “but I don’t just walk around looking like I did in Paris or Rome. You’re welcome to view part of the prep work later. I could teach you the difference between a foundation and a concealer.”

“I’ll pass.”

“Your loss,” she says brightly. “It does wonders to cover up dark circles under your eyes.” The bathroom door closes, and soon thereafter, the shower runs.

Tiredness is fighting to bring me down, but I force myself to check one final thing. I open the camera on my phone and inspect my face. Whatever she says, I don’t have dark circles under my eyes.

There’s a message waiting for me from my younger sister.

Lily: Hope you’re having fun in Kenya! Just checked your itinerary. Sorry I didn’t have time to make you a bingo sheet this time. I also saw that you’ll be back in the States right before Dad’s party. Please, Rhys? Looking forward to seeing the photos you take!

I put my phone away with a groan, resolving to reply later, even if it won’t be what she wants to hear. I have no plans to attend a party in our father’s honor.

The sun is high in the sky when I brave the near-sweltering heat on our patio, overlooking the surrounding landscape. It’s not quiet here. No, nature is loud. There are cicadas and birds and somewhere in the distance something much larger, much angrier makes a sound I can’t identify. The sky is a light blue, the ground nearly beige with dried grass.

I lean against the railing and just look. This is what life is about-this is what life should be like. Traveling. New experiences. Not a stuffy two-story house in the same town where I was raised, not weekends spent at the Yacht Club, not days in an office. My siblings’ choices were theirs, but this… this is mine.

Ivy comes to stand beside me, so quiet on bare feet that I barely hear her. The scent of soap and shampoo hits me, subtle but powerful. I glance over.

They’ve put her in a pair of white chinos and a khaki-colored linen shirt, complete with laced-up boots and a leather belt. It’s magazine safari clothing.

And God help me, but yes, I can tell that she’s put in prep work, whatever that means. Her eyes are darker, and somehow they look deeper. Magic. Sorcery. Unnecessary, as if she needed to be more striking.

“Well?” she asks. “Will this do?”

“It’ll do,” I say.

She leans on the railing next to me. “I know you’d rather be photographing wildebeest than me.”

My lips twitch. “Infinitely preferable in every way but one,” I say. “They don’t handle directions as well as you.”

Ivy’s lips curve, but it’s not her wide smile. This one is… well. It reminds me of the one on the bridge in Paris. The one that’s somehow a bit shy, which is the last word I’d ever expected to use to describe Ivy Hart.

“What a compliment,” she murmurs.

A million possible responses race through my head. A million more that I discard immediately.

The loud sound of a car horn breaks our eye contact. Someone’s outside our lodge, and they’re impatient. I grab my camera equipment and follow Ivy outside to the oversized Jeep, complete with the Rieler logo on the side.

Joy is standing beside it, a massive grin on her face.

“Ready for your private safari?”

Ivy’s excitement is obvious, and it’s infectious, even as I listen to the two of them talk. She asks endless questions. So this is a national park? Are there rangers? When was the last time you saw cheetahs? Lions? Leopards?

I shoot from the side of the car. It’s not difficult to, not with these landscapes. A horde of gazelles. A giant vulture on the side of a carcass. My entire being itches with the desire to camp out here for a night, to photograph animals up close. To lie in wait with my camera the only tool.

Joy leads us to a group of elephants, and for nearly half an hour we sit in silence and watch the graceful giants move. The only sound is the clicking of my camera.

We finally park on a large patch of grassy area, with the savannah behind us. The light is excellent-so we start shooting. Ivy is grinning as she climbs onto the hood of the Jeep. “You want me like this?”

“Yes,” I say, pointing back. “On your elbow… like that.” I back up to photograph her, watching through my camera as she adopts her posing face. The one that’s casual and relaxed, but displaying all the right angles.

She breaks in five minutes. “Look at me,” she says, “just reclining on my Jeep. Come travel with Rieler and you can recline on a Jeep, too!”

I lower my camera. “Ivy,” I say, but there’s no real annoyance in my voice.

She grins at me. “Sorry, I can’t help it. Joy?”