A Promise of Passion

by Maggie Carpenter

  There was a knock on the door, and Harry immediately noticed was that it wasn’t a gentle, may I enter, knock. It was a strong, I’m here, and I’m coming in, knock. The door opened, and the tall, willowy, stunning model strode forward, paused, looked at each face in turn, then smiled at Harry. She was carrying a portfolio, but it was oversized, and she didn’t sit down as the other girls had, but unzipping the large leather case, she splayed it out on the conference table.

  Harry couldn’t take his off her. She had a commanding presence, and her long blond hair was beautifully mussed, as though some voracious lover had utterly ravaged her and she’d just slipped from between the sheets. Her artful eye makeup accentuated the unusual dark green shade of her irises, and for a moment he wondered if she was wearing colored contacts. As she began to speak he found himself drawn to her lips. They were full, and pink, and seemed to sparkle. Did her lip gloss contain silver dust?

  He suddenly felt a compelling desire to lose his fingers in her wild hair, push her on to her knees, and have her suck his cock until he spewed down her throat. It was shocking, and as his member began to stiffen in the confines of his trousers, he swallowed hard and tried to focus on the conversation that Jenny Graham had started.

  “Alana,” he said, finally interrupting what he considered an inane question and answer session, “we weren’t officially introduced, but I’m Harry Harrison.”

  “Yes, I realize that,” she replied, the tone of her voice and the crease on her brow almost appearing critical.

  Harry could hear the silent disapproval from those around him. No-one ever spoke to him in such an off-hand manner.

  “Tell me, do you have any romantic entanglements?” he asked, suppressing a smile.

  He sensed the horrified ripple around the table. Such questions weren’t asked. It was politically incorrect. What was he playing at?

  “You don’t need to know that?” Alana said, tilting up her chin.

  Harry finally allowed his grin to surface. The girl had spunk, but that had been obvious before she’d even entered the room. Her knock had told him that.

  “Yes, I do,” he retorted, raising his eyebrows. “If you’re going to be the spokesperson for Bare Beauty, your life needs to be uncomplicated. I can’t have you upset because you’ve had a spat with your boyfriend, or worried because you haven’t seen him for a month. Now answer the question. Do you have any romantic entanglements, and I should add, that includes girls, if you swing that way?”

  He loved to shock people. It kept them sharp and out of balance, and he felt the shudder of shock vibrate around him. He wanted to laugh out loud, but he kept his smile frozen as he locked her gaze. She didn’t waver, she didn’t drop her eyes, she didn’t do anything except stare right back at him.

  “I do not have anything in my life that will interfere with my work, Mr. Harrison, romantic or otherwise. I have no ailing family members, no crises, no pets, and no children. Does that answer your question?”

  Harry felt Gustav recoil. She was a shark. She’d made the comment about ailing family members as a direct assault on Vivien McKay, clearly the rival she most feared. Leaning forward, Harry placed his hands on top of the table, and intertwined his fingers.

  “It does, Alana. On another subject, are you tired from your trans-Atlantic flight?”

  “Not at all, I’m used to international travel.”

  Harry was amused and annoyed. No, thank-you, for the ride in his ultra-chic plane, no thank-you, for the limousines, no appreciation for any of it, including the opportunity that had brought her into the conference room. On the contrary, her energy suggested he was lucky she’d deigned to be there. He was lucky that she’d accepted his generosity. He was lucky she was even considering taking the role of spokesperson for his cosmetic line.

  Harry couldn’t help but admire her.

  As they’d bantered, the marketing people and the casting director had been flipping through the pages of her portfolio. The photographs weren’t just placed behind the clear plastic. Each offered a beautifully crafted frame with a description of the shot, including the location and the date. It was surprising that a model of Alana’s stature would have even brought in a portfolio, but as Harry looked across at them, he could see how effective it was. They were collectively and individually stunned at the caliber of the work. It put all the other portfolios to shame.

  “What commitments do you have over the next few months?” Gustav asked.

  “I receive offers all the time,” she quipped. “As I’m standing here, my agent could be booking me. You’ll have to check with him.”

  Harry grinned. The message was, if you want me, you’d better sign me quick or you won’t get me. He used the same ploy in his deal-making every day.

  “I want to bring you into a studio and do some test shots,” Harry declared, still bent over the table with his hands locked, “tomorrow at 3 p.m.”

  “Test shots?” she exclaimed. “I haven’t done test shots in years.”

  “Are you refusing?”

  “Uh, you’ll have to speak to my agent.”

  It was a good save, but she’d hesitated. It had only been for the flicker of a second, and Harry knew he was the only one who would have caught it, but he’d made his fortune catching those almost invisible, fleeting, flutters of weakness.

  “Thank you, Alana. Unless you have any questions, I think we’re done for now.”

  “Yes, I do have questions,” she said, finding her feet after her near misstep.

  “You’re welcome to take a seat,” Jenny said, pointing to the chair.

  “When are you scheduled to start the campaign,” Alana asked, ignoring the invitation to sit down, “and where will the majority of the work be done? Here in London? Paris? New York?”

  “We will begin with a fair amount of traveling throughout Europe for personal appearances as a pre-cursor to the roll-out, and that could begin in about a month. Shooting will start a short time later both in Europe and some island locations, but the company will be based in Paris, with a satellite office here in London.”

  Alana nodded, then wordlessly walked to the end of the table, picked up her portfolio, and began zipping it closed.

  “Thank you for coming in,” Gustav said, taken aback by her brazen attitude.

  “You’re welcome,” she replied, looking directly across at him, then moved back to stand opposite Harry, stretching her arm across the table in an invitation to shake her hand.

  “Thank you, Mr. Harrison,” she said, with a surprisingly soft smile and a lilt to her voice.

  “Thank you, Alana,” Harry replied, rising to his feet, his eyes refusing to leave her unwavering stare, but as he wrapped his large fingers around hers, he felt pressing against his palm.

  He held her grip for a moment, making sure he hadn’t been mistaken, and she didn’t release her fingers, giving him time to confirm his suspicions. The seconds ticked by, then shooting her a covert look of acknowledgement, he carefully slid his hand away, closing his fist around the tiny piece of paper.

  “Until tomorrow,” Harry grinned.

  “Indeed,” Alana grinned back.

  As she turned and walked out, silence fell across the room.

  “I think,” Harry chuckled, “you’ve all just been left speechless.”

  “Do we want someone like that? I mean, what a cow,” one of the marketing people remarked.

  “Like what? Smarter than you?” Harry quipped, rising to his feet.

  He watched the middle-aged man turn beet red, and as the heavy silence continued to permeate the air, he sauntered across to the buffet that housed a coffee urn, and a variety of pastries and sandwiches. Staring at the food that had been sitting there since he’d arrived three hours earlier, he shook his head, and checking his watch he saw he had ten minutes before Vivien McKay was due to arrive.

  “Madeline, this is all stale,” he declared. “Get it out of here and have it replaced with everything fresh. I’ll be back in a minute. G
ustav, a word?”

  As Gustav left the table to join him, standing in the hallway next to the door that she’d left cracked open, Alana let out a satisfied smile. Everything had gone exactly as she’d planned.

  In Harry’s inner sanctum, Gustav was waiting for Harry to speak. After they’d walked in and closed the door, Harry had ambled across to the windows and wordlessly stared out at the city.

  “What is it?” Gustav finally asked.

  “Nothing really,” Harry murmured, turning around. “I needed to get out of there for five minutes.”

  “Do you want Alana for Bare Beauty?”

  “No, I definitely do not.”

  “I’ll tell Jenny not to call her agent for the test shots.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Because you just said you don’t want her,” Gustav exclaimed.

  “I said I didn’t want her for Bare Beauty,” Harry corrected him.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t ask,” Gustav said hesitantly, “but, do you want to date her?”

  “Date Alana? She’s a narcissistic bitch with an attitude, and way too smart,” Harry declared. “No, I definitely don’t want to date her.”

  “I’m confused.”

  “I know my friend. Worry not,” Harry smiled. “Are you meeting up with Vivien McKay after we finish here?”

  “We have tentative plans to have an early dinner around six o’clock downstairs at Emile’s, assuming she’s not too tired.”

  “She won’t be,” Harry exclaimed, “and that is an excellent choice. You won’t have to drive anywhere. I’ll call and make sure they give you a good table.”

  “I’m sure that’s not-“

  “I insist,” Harry said holding up his hand, “and I’m feeling better now. Let’s go back in.”

  As they walked into the conference room, Gustav saw worker bees had already replaced the coffee urn with a new one, and there was a tray of fresh sandwiches and muffins on the buffet. Following Harry, he stood next to him as the billionaire poured himself a cup of coffee and selected a chicken sandwich.

  “You are a mystery sometimes,” Gustav murmured.

  “Thank you,” Harry grinned.

  “No, thank-you,” Gustav grinned back. “I have learned much from you, and I believe I’m about to learn more.”

  “You will if you pay attention,” Harry winked.

  In the cafe situated in lobby of the modern high-rise building, Dominic and Vivien were sharing a pot of tea. Vivien didn’t want to cross paths with Alana, so she had her back to the lobby, while Dominic watched for Alana’s exit.

  “There she goes,” Dominic murmured.

  “What time is it?” Vivien asked nervously.

  “It’s 2:23 exactly,” Dominic replied. “You have a few more minutes to relax.”

  “I’m so glad Gustav will be there. Having a friendly face in that room will really help.”

  “Just be yourself,” he smiled, “and remember, ma chérie, Harrison wouldn’t have flown you all the way over here if he wasn’t seriously interested.”

  “He flew Alana over here too,” she grimaced.

  “I don’t see Alana being the right type for a makeup line that’s supposed to be all about natural beauty. She is very…what is the word…artificielle?”

  “Um, you mean, artificial? Affected?”

  “Oui, affected.”

  “You’re right, she is. Strange that he should fly her here for this meeting, unless there’s another part of the cosmetic line we don’t know about.”

  “Maybe, but I think Gustav would have told me,” Dominic frowned.

  “I don’t know why, but that just made me feel better.”

  “I’m glad, and I think you should head up there,” he suggested, “and don’t worry, you look beautiful. Just be yourself.”

  “Thanks, Dominic, for everything.”

  Rising from the table, she picked up her portfolio and headed from the cafe, and as she disappeared across the lobby, he lifted his bag from beside his chair and pulled out his sketch pad. Opening it to the drawing he’d started in the hotel when Vivien had first arrived, he stared down at the half-finished sketch, and picking up his pencil, he set it to life across the page.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Following the receptionist down the hallway, Vivien took several long, deep, discreet breaths. She’d been on a thousand auditions, but she’d never felt so nervous. The young woman escorting her to the conference room pointed to the door, wished her good luck, then walked away. As Vivien raised her closed fist to knock, she heard Dominic’s reassuring words echoing through her mind.

  Just be yourself, and remember, ma chérie, Harrison wouldn’t have flown you all the way over here if he wasn’t seriously interested.

  It made the ends of her lips curl into an almost smile.

  When she was first starting in the business, Ben Marshall had been a constant source of advice, and standing in the hallway ready to walk in, she put one of many his directives into play.

  When faced with a closed door knock only once, but make it solid, walk in confidently, make eye contact with everyone in the room, then offer your portfolio to the one you believe is in charge.

  Her knuckles hit the solid wood, then pushing down the handle she strode into the room to found half-a-dozen people sitting behind a gleaming oval wooden table.

  “Good afternoon,” she said, carrying her glance to each scrutinizing face, reaching Gustav who was seated at the end of the row and sitting next to Harry Harrison

  Shooting her eyes back to the famous billionaire, unzipping her case as she walked forward, she placed it in front of him and opened it up.

  “My portfolio, Mr. Harrison, but before we begin, may I say thank you for bringing me over here in such splendid style, and also for this wonderful opportunity.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed the ride,” Harry said, smiling back at her, “and yes, I would like to see your portfolio.”

  Moving away from the table Vivien settled into the chair provided, and with another quick glimpse at Gustav, she waited for the questions to begin.

  When she’d walked through the door, everyone at the table was immediately taken with her, and not just because of her beauty. She oozed confidence, but not the self-centered, holier-than-thou, confidence of Alana. When she’d stepped forward and spoken to Harry, her genuine gratitude and warmth was almost self-deprecating, but what had caught them all off-guard was her lack of makeup. She was wearing only mascara and muted peach lip gloss.

  She was the epitome of what Bare Beauty was all about.

  She was also the only model who had offered her portfolio to Harry Harrison. The other girls were clearly intimidated by him, and had placed their cases in the middle of the table. Alana, for reasons known only to her, had put it directly in front of the marketing gurus and casting director.

  The table sat silently as Harry flipped through the pages. Watching him, Vivien tried to read his face. It was frustratingly expressionless, but it also gave her a moment to study him.

  He wasn’t a handsome man, but he wasn’t unattractive. His dark hair was thinning at the temples, and he wore glasses, but she liked his choice of square tortoiseshell frames. His clothes were as she’d expected; a charcoal grey tailored suit, a sharp white shirt, and a designer grey and red tie. Elegant gold cufflinks glistened at his wrists, and she couldn’t help but notice his watch; Rose gold, and it looked like a Patek Complications. His appearance matched who he was, a successful businessman.

  “Impressive,” he remarked, as he slid the portfolio down the table for the others to peruse.

  “Thank you,” Vivien said, looking him directly in the eye.

  “What commitments do you have in the coming months?”

  “Presently, the print work for Gustav’s new clothing line, but I’m only just coming back to work. I know that my agent, Ben Marshall, has begun making calls, so it’s hard to say what he might have brewing.”

  The message had been the
same as Alana’s, but delivered with grace.

  “You took time off?” Jenny asked.

  “Yes, almost a year.”

  “Any special reason?”

  “I needed some time with my family.”

  Gustav nodded his approval. Simple, uncomplicated, and no mention of the drama she’d suffered.

  “This job will entail quite a bit of traveling,” Jenny continued. “Do you have any problem being on the road?”

  “Not at all,” Vivien said earnestly. “Traveling was one of the things I missed during my time off.”

  “I’d like to have you come into the studio for some test shots tomorrow afternoon,” Harry declared. “Are you available?”

  “Absolutely,” Vivian smiled. “I’d enjoy that.”

  “You would? You don’t object to doing test shots?” Jenny pressed.

  “I’d be happy to.”

  The thought of having an opportunity to be in front of the cameras again, without it being at an actual shoot, was like a gift. She was thrilled by the invitation. It was exactly what she needed. A dry run to find her feet.

  “Then we’ll be in touch with your agent about the details,” Jenny said. “Do you have any questions?”

  “None that I can think of,” Vivien replied, “but that will probably change when I walk out the door, like when I go to the grocery store. I almost always forget what I’ve walked in to buy, then remember it on my way home.”

  It was a statement they could all relate to. It made the gorgeous model human. Underneath her stunning good looks, she was just like them. She went shopping. She forgot things. The comment had been another of Ben Marshall’s secret tidbits. Say something that takes you from being someone special, to someone like them. She could see the acceptance in their eyes. She’d witnessed it many times before. It was almost as if a wave of relief had swept through the room.

  “Thank you, Miss McKay,” Harry said, standing up, suggesting the interview had come to an end.

  Jenny zipped up Vivien’s portfolio, and to everyone’s surprise, Harry walked around the table and picked it up.