"Don't move!" she ordered.

Before he could react, Tilda whipped out her phone and aimed it at him.

"No photos," Lyndon said, brows furrowing. But it was too late. Tilda had already snapped two shots.

Lyndon groaned and kicked off the heels, lunging for her phone. "Delete those."

Tilda dodged, laughing. "Not a chance!" She was actually gearing up to post those photos online.

Lyndon watched her fiddle with the phone, clearly seeing her intentions.

He closed the gap between them in two strides, wrapping her in his arms as he reached for the phone. "No posting on Instagram."

She squealed, clutching the phone tighter. "I didn't post them-I just saved them!"

"Saving them is still not allowed."

He finally managed to wrest the phone from her hands and made to delete the photos.

"Don't you dare! That's my phone!"

She reached for it again, but he twisted away.

"I'm the model here. My image, my rules."

She huffed, crossing her arms in a dramatic pout. Lyndon's finger hovered over the delete button.

He glanced down at her expression—defiant and annoyed.

He felt his temple beginning to throb.

If he deleted the pictures now, she'd probably give him the silent treatment again.

They had only just made up. He wasn't ready to start another cold war.

Lyndon hesitated, his harsh demeanor melting as his voice dropped to a gentler register.

"I'm offering you two choices." He proposed. "I can delete these photos entirely, or you may keep them with one condition—they never appear on Instagram. Your decision."

Tilda had steeled herself for the worst, expecting him to demand their immediate deletion.

Her eyes widened with delight at his unexpected concession, a radiant smile blooming across her face.

"The second option!" she exclaimed eagerly. "I promise they'll remain private—just for my collection, I won't post them. Deal?"

Lyndon studied her face, skepticism etched in the furrow of his brow.