terrified I’ll wake up tomorrow with a zit!’
Celeste laughed. ‘Drink nothing but water for the rest of the day,’ she advised, half joking. ‘Who’s the client?’ she asked, just to be friendly.
But when the girl answered Celeste’s expression changed.
‘Reiner Visage,’ breathed the girl. ‘They’re ever so posh! I can’t afford any of their stuff myself! Do you think I can get some free samples?’ she asked ingenuously.
Celeste didn’t answer. Her face was grave. The girl looked so young— Young and naive and vulnerable...
Memory’s needle went under her skin again.
‘Listen,’ she said, sounding serious, ‘if you do get picked, please be careful. Karl Reiner’s nickname is Creepy Karl, and he’s earned it!’
She debated whether to tell the girl about the hassle she herself had had, then decided not to. The odds were against her getting a Reiner contract at her very first casting, and she was obviously so thrilled right now that Celeste didn’t want to spoil the moment with an unnecessary warning.
She fished in her bag for a scrap of paper, scrawled her name and mobile number on it and gave it to the girl. ‘I’m Celeste Philips. Let’s have a coffee some time,’ she said, her voice friendly again.
The girl’s eyes shone. ‘Oh, that would be brill—thanks! I don’t know any other models yet. My flatmates all work in offices. I’m Louise, by the way—Louise Foreman,’ she said.
‘Well, good luck, Louise,’ Celeste said, refraining from adding, But not tomorrow.
‘I’ll put your name and number in my phone right away,’ Louise said happily. ‘Thank you ever so much! I can’t wait to tell my mates I’ve got a casting!’
She trotted off, busy with her phone. Celeste watched her go. Was I really ever that young? she thought. That eager?
But she had been. Of course she had. After all, modelling had been going to make her fortune. The fortune she’d wanted so much...
Like a guillotine, she sliced down the steel door in her head that she kept forever locked. Seeing that young girl, so like herself once, had let it start to open.
But it wasn’t just the young model who had turned the key in that door. Like an unwelcome intruder, Rafael Sanguardo’s image formed in her mind, as disturbing now as it had been from the start.
What power does he have to do that? Why does he get to me the way he does? Why can’t I just delete him and never think about him again?
The answer was as disturbing as the man himself.
And one thing was for sure: Rafael Sanguardo’s image did not come with a delete button...
* * *
Rafael’s brow was furrowed in concentration as he focussed on the figures his laptop screen was displaying. Calculations ran rapidly through his head.
‘Sorry to disturb you, but Miss Philips has just turned the corner.’
His driver’s voice interrupted his concentration, but he looked up at once.
‘Thank you,’ he said crisply, shutting his laptop lid. He twisted his head very slightly to look out of the window of his parked car. He saw her at once.
She was wearing jeans, a grey sweater and sneakers. Her hair was in a long plait to one side, and she had a capacious leather bag on her shoulder. She looked fresh and fit, her face without a trace of make-up, clean and clear, her figure slender and long-legged.
Rafael watched her a moment, analysing his feelings. They had not changed. Even casually dressed, as she was now, she had an impact on him that went straight to the same place as when she was dressed to the nines. Holding his gaze totally. Filling his vision.
He got out of the car, watching her register his presence. Watching her stop dead.
Casually, he walked up to her. ‘You really do take evasion to the limits, don’t you?’ he said pleasantly.
Celeste glared at him. ‘What are you doing here?’ Her heart had started to slug, and she hated him for it. Hated herself.
‘Asking you to dinner,’ Rafael answered, unconcerned by her aggrieved
Celeste laughed. ‘Drink nothing but water for the rest of the day,’ she advised, half joking. ‘Who’s the client?’ she asked, just to be friendly.
But when the girl answered Celeste’s expression changed.
‘Reiner Visage,’ breathed the girl. ‘They’re ever so posh! I can’t afford any of their stuff myself! Do you think I can get some free samples?’ she asked ingenuously.
Celeste didn’t answer. Her face was grave. The girl looked so young— Young and naive and vulnerable...
Memory’s needle went under her skin again.
‘Listen,’ she said, sounding serious, ‘if you do get picked, please be careful. Karl Reiner’s nickname is Creepy Karl, and he’s earned it!’
She debated whether to tell the girl about the hassle she herself had had, then decided not to. The odds were against her getting a Reiner contract at her very first casting, and she was obviously so thrilled right now that Celeste didn’t want to spoil the moment with an unnecessary warning.
She fished in her bag for a scrap of paper, scrawled her name and mobile number on it and gave it to the girl. ‘I’m Celeste Philips. Let’s have a coffee some time,’ she said, her voice friendly again.
The girl’s eyes shone. ‘Oh, that would be brill—thanks! I don’t know any other models yet. My flatmates all work in offices. I’m Louise, by the way—Louise Foreman,’ she said.
‘Well, good luck, Louise,’ Celeste said, refraining from adding, But not tomorrow.
‘I’ll put your name and number in my phone right away,’ Louise said happily. ‘Thank you ever so much! I can’t wait to tell my mates I’ve got a casting!’
She trotted off, busy with her phone. Celeste watched her go. Was I really ever that young? she thought. That eager?
But she had been. Of course she had. After all, modelling had been going to make her fortune. The fortune she’d wanted so much...
Like a guillotine, she sliced down the steel door in her head that she kept forever locked. Seeing that young girl, so like herself once, had let it start to open.
But it wasn’t just the young model who had turned the key in that door. Like an unwelcome intruder, Rafael Sanguardo’s image formed in her mind, as disturbing now as it had been from the start.
What power does he have to do that? Why does he get to me the way he does? Why can’t I just delete him and never think about him again?
The answer was as disturbing as the man himself.
And one thing was for sure: Rafael Sanguardo’s image did not come with a delete button...
* * *
Rafael’s brow was furrowed in concentration as he focussed on the figures his laptop screen was displaying. Calculations ran rapidly through his head.
‘Sorry to disturb you, but Miss Philips has just turned the corner.’
His driver’s voice interrupted his concentration, but he looked up at once.
‘Thank you,’ he said crisply, shutting his laptop lid. He twisted his head very slightly to look out of the window of his parked car. He saw her at once.
She was wearing jeans, a grey sweater and sneakers. Her hair was in a long plait to one side, and she had a capacious leather bag on her shoulder. She looked fresh and fit, her face without a trace of make-up, clean and clear, her figure slender and long-legged.
Rafael watched her a moment, analysing his feelings. They had not changed. Even casually dressed, as she was now, she had an impact on him that went straight to the same place as when she was dressed to the nines. Holding his gaze totally. Filling his vision.
He got out of the car, watching her register his presence. Watching her stop dead.
Casually, he walked up to her. ‘You really do take evasion to the limits, don’t you?’ he said pleasantly.
Celeste glared at him. ‘What are you doing here?’ Her heart had started to slug, and she hated him for it. Hated herself.
‘Asking you to dinner,’ Rafael answered, unconcerned by her aggrieved
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