Elara stood in front of the camera, her body angled just right, her smile warm yet mysterious the perfect blend of intrigue and allure that the photographer had demanded. To anyone watching, she looked composed, every inch the confident star she was supposed to be. Her hands rested lightly on her hips, her shoulders relaxed, and her expression was that of someone who had done this a thousand times before.
And, to be fair, she had done this a thousand times before. But none of those times involved having Amara Lyselle a woman she couldn't decide whether to hate or tolerate posing with her. And definitely none of those times involved said woman looking like a lost puppy in designer clothing.
God, why do I always get myself into these situations? Elara thought, her mind racing a mile a minute despite the serene expression plastered on her face.
