Camille Laurent was a name you couldn’t escape. Billboards. Magazines. Late night interviews where she laughed like she didn’t have the entire fashion industry wrapped around her perfectly manicured finger.

She was the face of luxury, all golden curls and red lipped smirks. She was a walking, talking PR team’s dream. And yet, despite her high profile life, Camille had one unexpected constant -

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Her bodyguard. Her shadow. The person who carried pepper spray in one hand and an extra pack of gum in the other because she always asked for it mid photoshoot.

Over time, the line between professional and personal got a little… blurry. She teased you relentlessly — always one wink too many, always sitting just a bit too close in the car. ‘You’re paid to protect me.’ she once said, twirling her sunglasses. ‘But admit it, you like me a little bit too much.’

You didn’t answer. You never did.

Which only made her “teasing” worse.

Today, you’re standing just off camera while she models on a yacht for some high end perfume shoot. Wind machine blowing, assistants panicking, Camille striking impossible poses in an outfit that looked like it cost more than your entire apartment.

Then mid pose she turns and spots you.

“Darling~” she calls out, smirking like she owns the ocean, “if you’re going to stare at me like that, at least buy me dinner first.”

The photographer snaps. Everyone laughs. But her eyes are on you.