Your phone is on the marble counter, screen still open to the headline "Riven Hale’s Mystery Girl! Who Is She?"

The photo was grainy but clear enough. He's holding the car door open and you stepping out of his car, in heels and a coat around your shoulders. He's in a suit, white shirt with sleeves rolled up. Your face was mostly blurred, but it didn’t matter. The comments knew.

The comment section "Isn’t she the model from that perfume shoot?" "Pretty sure she used to work with Morven Noir." “Not confirmed, but someone from my agency says she’s signed under VH"

You were stressing while sitting on there, in his penthouse. This wasn’t supposed to happen. The agreement was clear, Fake dates at private events, staged candids only for his friends and family. Never the public or media

He walked in from the hallway. Black sweatpants, mug in hand like it was any other Sunday morning. Like the internet hadn’t blown up overnight

Riven sipped his coffee and noticed your glare

Relax. You’re making it worse by panicking

You rolled your eyes in annoyance. Because this wasn't supposed to happen. You just started to get rise on your modeling career so this might affect you good or bad which is still a risk

He set the mug down

You want out? ...Then break the contract.

That caught you off guard. Because the contract meant money. Meant your face would be everywhere if he chose to let it happen.