“I don't know how I feel about this,” she finally says, which actually makes me feel better about being unsure myself.

“Thank you! I thought the exact same thing,” I say.

“On one hand, it makes total sense for someone of his stature, who I just said was practically a celebrity, to want to protect themselves. This guy writes some very kinky literature, and I’m sure there’s tons of people out there that would want a piece of him for the sole purpose of trying to screw him over. That’s the case for anybody in any entertainment industry who has fans. So, I totally get that.”

“But, on the other hand?”

“On the other hand … fuck that guy!” Juliana barks so loud I’m sure the entire office heard it. “How dare he knock out Vance in public, then tell you you're not allowed to talk about him. How dare he even suggest that you can’t tell me about your kinky exploits with him. How selfish! I wanna know the details!”

I laugh as Juliana scowls and pouts at the same time, knowing exactly how to make me feel better about all of this.

“I think we both know it makes sense for him to do it,” I tell her, and she nods.

“I guess. But you still better tell me the details. It’s not like we’re going to sell the story to TMZ.”

“Well, we do work for a newspaper.”

“Shit, I didn't even think about that. Now it really makes sense.” The two of us laugh again, before Juliana gives me another hug and stands up to leave. “Listen, I know it’s all insane in both good ways and bad. Just promise me you’ll be careful. Okay? I don't wanna see you get hurt, and I definitely don’t want to go to prison for murder, but I will if I have to.”

I smile and rub her hand with my fingers. “Thanks, Juliana. I love you.”

“Love you, kinky girl. Now, I’m going to lunch. Talk to you later.”

“Later.”

Once Juliana is gone, I try to go back to editing my last set of photos, but my mind is stuck on Nas. After being in a relationship with someone like Vance, it’s easy to be anxious about people and their intentions. I love everything Nas has offered up to this point, but the last thing I need is another heartbreak.

A few minutes into making final edits, my phone vibrates on my desk, and I’m pleased to see it’s from Nas. Admittedly, not even signing the NDA could keep me from smiling at his message, and I think that must be a good sign.

Nas: Hi. I don't want to interrupt you at work, but are you free tonight?