And before Sakura knew it, she was heading over to the secluded studio on 45th Street. She could barely contain herself; mixed feelings were swirling about her mind. She was excited to start shooting, wondering what she would be doing, and she was anxious because she so desperately wanted to prove herself - to everyone - that she could be the model that everyone demanded and needed. And she was nervous! She was going to meet the man from the phone call who had disrupted her concentration for the past month. And her thoughts on him were mixed as well: she was angry, of course, who wouldn't be? But then, there was something else underlying the anger, something Tomoyo said kept coming back to her: "…He is known as the hottest guy in front and behind camera…" Before she could dwell on it any longer, the car door was opening and someone was speaking to her.
"Lost in thought?" a smug Tomoyo asked. She had been observing Sakura all morning, and it had been an interesting study. She noticed Sakura was deep in her thoughts, brooding almost, about the moment to come. She will not be disappointed, Tomoyo thought.
"Oh, no, just a little jittery, you know. Pre-shooting butterflies…" Sakura! Stop thinking about this! It will be fine. Just relax; breathe and go inside. Sakura was used to these internal pep talks by now; they were the only things that would get her into the studio before a shoot. So she let out a sigh, took a deep breath, and stepped through the door.
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Syaoran had been anticipating this day since he made the call. Of course he had been keeping tabs on her ever since he decided to hire her. And boy, was she a busy woman. In a month she had completed two covers, five inside scoops, and seven TV interviews. She even went to Brazil, where she completed an ad for a new spray-on tanning lotion. So it could be expected that she was the single most exciting thing in his life since he left Meilin, and he wasn't about to ruin it.
He saw her walk in. She looked like a dancer, sporting black dance pants and a loose and lightweight sweatshirt. Not only was she beautiful in the morning, she emanated across the room. She was pure heaven.
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Sakura's heart stopped when she noticed the man who could only be her photographer, staring at her. She tried to avoid eye contact, but his amber eyes, so vivid even from ten feet away, held her in his gaze. She took another deep breath and introduced herself.
"Hi. I'm Sakura Kinomoto, your new model. This is Tomoyo, my publicist." She extended her hand to him, expecting a reciprocated gesture. He simply continued to stare, not hiding his obvious scrutiny over her body. Still with her hand out, Sakura stared opened-mouthed as he walked away from her.
"Right. Let's get started everyone," he said.
Sakura was dumbfounded. Not only had this man brushed her off a second time, she felt violated with by his gaze, his eyes saying more than a true professional photographer. An aide showed her her dressing room and costumes. Finally, she was allowed a meeting with the man himself.
"Sakura, here is the deal. I needed models for my new romance piece for an art show in Paris. It is a love story without words, without sound, simply pictures. I haven't decided who is to be your male counterpart yet, but today we are focusing on you. As you can see, your dress is a simple Japanese school uniform. The story thus follows: a girl who uses magical cards to fight evil is joined with by a young man, who is unruly and arrogant. They fight to be the master of the cards. Somewhere in this time period, he falls in love with her, and he helps her to destroy foes. At the end of the final battle he professes his love, and they share an earth-shattering kiss. And that's about it."
Sakura tried not to laugh. That was about the stupidest thing she had ever heard of. A girl who uses cards to fight evil? A boy who helps her and then falls in love? It seemed to be some childhood fantasy, twisted into a bizarre love story by Syaoran Li's fertile imagination. He seemed to notice her disappointment, for he then he spoke again.
"You don't have to like it, Sakura. I am the artist. I am only using your body because you seem to fit the profile of the girl I saw in my dreams." At that comment he immediately went red. He had obviously told her something that he never planned to share. What did that mean? That he dreamed about me? Tomoyo was right, he is drop dead gorgeous, but his personality is awful. I could never fall for a guy like that. Thoughts such as these ran through her mind, scaring her and making her feel uncomfortable. Again, he seemed to read her thoughts.
"It is flattering to think that a professional such as myself would ever dream of you, but let me quickly assure you that your ideas are false. I am an artist. I live, eat, and consequently dream my art. Let us leave it at that," with that last comment he moved behind his camera, motioning for her to pose on the set. Sakura, coursing with red-hot anger, gingerly positioned herself on the set, making it quite obvious that she was taking her sweet time. How dare he violate my thoughts in that way? Am I that easy to read? He seems to know just what I am thinking, when I am only discovering it for myself. "I want you to hold the cards as if you were just holding them for the first time. Remember, you use these to fight against evil in your home town, Tomoeda."
Sakura's bewilderment was growing. He seemed to have thought of every detail, every last insignificant detail in the whole of the story. But how did he know that she grew up in Tomoeda? These strange annoyances continued throughout the day: the tedious work, his demanding and perfectionist attitude. Everything had to be just so. It was two hours before he even began to take a picture, and that was only a preliminary check to see if the camera was functional. By lunchtime, Sakura was tired and frustrated by his meticulous and exacting nature, and took a quick shower and nap in her dressing room instead of eating.
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"Do you delight in annoying her so, Mr. Li?" Tomoyo inquired sweetly. Syaoran seemed undamaged with her belittling tone, and answered in a monotone voice.
"I simply must have things perfect. A lot is riding on this art show. And anyway, this story, this idea has some personal value to me, and she is snuffing it as if it was written by some quickie-mart photographer." With that he left, off to find Sakura and ready to start his torture afresh. He was surprised to find her sleeping, curled up like a little girl, even snoring a bit. He caught himself before he almost touched her hair, her beauty surpassing any other sleeping maiden he had come across. He didn't want to, but he woke her up gently, tapping her on the shoulder with one finger. Gradually she opened her large emerald orbs and then screamed. So occupied with the beauty of her face, he had completely disregarded the rest of her body, which was currently wrapped in a small towel, leaving much of her bare. With at her reaction he colored crimson and tried to stutter an apology.
"SS...Sakura, I'm so-so sorry. I d…didn't mean to. I just wanted to wake you up. It's time to get started again." After this statement, he left in a hurry, to his own office to cool down. As he washed his face, and sat down on the couch, all he could think about were those luscious, long legs, and her pert, milky white breasts. She surely was a beauty, and only seventeen! Surely there was some law against being so wonderful at such a young age. He too was young, but that hardly mattered to him.
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Sakura gathered herself together and put on her costume. I will not let this get to me. He is a pervert, but a genius pervert. I shall continue, and NOT let this bother me. It was easier said than done, she thought grimly and with that last thought, she composed herself and quickly exited her dressing room and entered the set.