by Julia James
What Rafael Sanguardo wanted was not what she was free to want...
An old, familiar ripple of revulsion went through her. Those slimy trails across her skin—fetid memory made tangible.
And with Karl Reiner pressingly at her side tonight, making her skin crawl, revulsion came afresh. Recrimination came in its wake. Why, oh, why had she ever got involved with Reiner Visage?
But she knew the reason now—just as she had long ago.
Rejection seared within her.
This is different! Entirely different! Karl Reiner can assume what he likes. I will never go along with it!
Nor was there anything he could say that would make her sign a new contract. She would simply go on stonewalling him, staying as composed and as civil as she could, until she was free in a few weeks’ time.
But his persistent unwanted attentions were becoming even harder than ever to endure. He was badgering her repeatedly to renew her contract, and this evening he had drunk freely, and she could see his temper mounting at her continued refusal. Now, dinner over and guests dispersing, he’d renewed the subject in the middle of the hotel lobby.
‘No,’ she said carefully, ‘it’s nothing to do with more money. I simply don’t wish to extend my contract any further. I’ve been very appreciative of it, naturally—’
‘That’s not the message you’re giving out.’ Karl cut across her brusquely.
Tight-lipped, Celeste refused to react. She knew very well that the cause of his pique was nothing to do with her not renewing her contract—it was because she wasn’t going to do what Monique Silva had done: show her ‘appreciation’ in bed.
Anger flashed across Karl’s face. ‘Who the hell do you think you are?’ he demanded. ‘Models are ten cents a dozen!’
‘As I say,’ she repeated tightly, ‘I’ve been very appreciative of the opportunity to represent the Blonde range of Reiner Visage, but—’
‘But nothing!’ He cut across her again. His face was set petulantly. ‘I’ve done you favours! Now it’s payback time! You damn well know what I want!’
He grabbed at her arm, closing his fingers around it. She halted, turning an icy gaze on him.
‘Take your hand off me,’ she bit out, jaw clenched. When he made no move to do so, she simply lifted his hand off her and stepped away. ‘Goodnight, Mr Rainer,’ she said decisively, and turned to go.
Infuriated, and despite the presence of other people in the lobby, he lurched at her, grabbing at her wrist again, yanking her round forcibly. His face was contorted in fury.
‘Don’t walk off, you stuck-up little bitch! Who the hell do you think you are? Behaving like a goddamn nun!’ he snarled at her.
The alcoholic fumes of his breath reached her. His voice was loud and carrying.
‘I can pick and choose any model I want—you hear me? And they’ll be grateful! Girls like you put out for anyone who’ll hire you! And since I’ve hired you you’ll damn well put out for me! You’re no different! You’re just a two-bit whore like every other model!’
Celeste gasped in shock. For a second she could not move. Then, behind her, a voice cut through.
‘Let her go,’ it said. It was arctic. ‘Let her go and get out of here before I throw you out onto the pavement.’
Karl’s head swivelled. ‘Who the hell are you?’ he snarled slurringly.
Rafael did not answer him. He simply yanked Karl’s hand away, then took his shoulder and elbow in a punishing grip and frogmarched him to the door, ejecting him onto the pavement.
‘If you try and come back in,’ he said pleasantly, ‘I will pulverise you. Do you understand me?’
He didn’t bother to wait for a reply, just went back into the lobby. His eyes went immediately to the frozen figure standing there, her ashen pallor registering her shock. He went up to her.
‘Brandy,’ he said. ‘Don’t argue. Then I’ll see you home—and don’t argue about that either. That charmless jerk is out on the pavement.’
She couldn’t respond. Couldn’t do anything except stand there, the vile echo of Karl’s accusation slicing through her head.
‘You’re just a two-bit whore like every other model!’
Her face contorted and she felt nausea rise in her throat, foul and choking. Then, from nowhere, her elbow was being taken—not tightly, but firmly—and she was being guided across the lobby and into the hotel bar. Her steps were halting, but she went all the same. Numbness filled her.
Then, as she was helped up onto a bar stool, the numbness was suddenly pierced. Karl Reiner and his vile words disappeared from her consciousness. Replaced, totally, by the realisation of just who it was that was at her side now.
Her eyes flew to the man, tall and lean in a charcoal tailored lounge suit that only emphasised his naturally tanned complexion, who was taking his seat beside her.
Dear God—it was Rafael Sanguardo!
Shock ravined through her. Shock and something much more. Instant awareness, instant consciousness of everything about him that she had sought to suppress these past few days. To force down out of her memory.
Yet he was here now, in all his overwhelming, potent physical presence. Sitting beside her and looking at her with an expression of concern on his face, his dark eyes resting on her.
She hauled her gaze away. She could not cope with this—not now. Not after Karl Reiner’s vile outburst. She could feel herself start to shake.
Immediately she heard Rafael Sanguardo speak. ‘It’s all right. He’s gone. And he won’t be coming back.’
He spoke with certainty, and an underlying grimness. Her eyes lifted to him again.
But he was not looking at her. He had turned his head to address the barman. ‘Two brandies, please.’
As he gave his order he made a notable effort to control his emotions. They were surging strongly. One was an impulse to stride right out onto the pavement, seize hold of the jerk who had said what he had to the ashen-faced, shaken figure beside him and slam his fist into his foul-mouthed face. It took him aback, just how strong that urge was. A wave of protectiveness swept over him.
No one’s going to hurl that kind of abuse at her!
The protectiveness he was feeling was almost overpowering... But him slamming his fist into her abuser was not what she needed right now! What she needed was to stop shaking, to pull out of the shocked state she was clearly in after that vicious little scene back there with Karl Reiner.
He knew who the man was, all right. Just as he now knew the name of the woman who had been dominating his thoughts ever since he’d laid eyes on her.
Celeste Philips—that was her name. It had taken little effort to discover it, courtesy of the organisers of the charity fashion show, simply by describing her. After that her professional bio had been easy to find via her agency. She was currently contracted to Reiner Visage—of which cosmetics company the unlovely Karl Reiner was President. Nor had it taken much digging to uncover Karl Reiner’s even more unlovely reputation for pursuing the models he contracted.
A reputation that the ugly incident just now more than amply confirmed.
The two glasses of brandy were placed in front of him and he slid one towards Celeste.
‘Drink it down,’ he instructed. ‘You’re in shock.’
But Celeste gave a quick, jerky shake of her head. ‘No—no brandy.’ Her voice was slightly high-pitched. In her head she could hear Karl’s foul words snarling at her again. Hear his vile accusation...
She fought to stay calm, at least on the surface. Inside was different...
‘Coffee, then—you need something. You’re white as a sheet.’
She lifted her face, made herself look at the man who had rescued her. The man she couldn’t get out of her head. Who was now here, beside her, dominating her consciousness. ‘I’m fine. It
was just—’ She stopped. Swallowed painfully.
‘Damn,’ said Rafael feelingly. ‘I should have hit him. Trouble is...’ his voice was deadpan ‘...I might have spoilt his looks.’
For a moment Celeste was on a knife-edge. Then the balance tipped, giving her a safety net, letting her pull herself together. The laconically uttered insult to the drunken, obnoxious Karl had retrieved her sufficiently for her to manage to find the darkly wry humour clearly intended in the remark.
She bit her lip. ‘That’s a low blow,’ she heard herself murmur.
‘The lower the better,’ Rafael agreed. ‘Low enough to...ah...quell his unwanted ardour.’
She gave a shaky smile, not quite meeting his eyes. She might be pulling out of the shock of what Karl had snarled at her, but that only meant she was now having to cope with this completely unanticipated encounter with Rafael Sanguardo. And cope she must—somehow.
And she must start with the most important priority. Gratitude.
She lifted her eyes again. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Thank you for what you did back there.’
For just a moment, as her eyes met his, she felt weak—as weak as a kitten. The blood seemed to be flooding back into her ashen cheeks, heating them. She could not drag her gaze away—his eyes were holding her...holding her as if there was a physical link between them...as if they were bound together...
She saw something shift at the back of his eyes—his dark, basalt-black eyes. Something that seemed to set every nerve-ending in her body jangling.
Then, with a quick movement of his head, he broke the moment. ‘De nada,’ he said lightly. His tone of voice changed. ‘So, coffee?’ he said enquiringly. ‘Or tea, maybe? Isn’t that what the English drink to settle their nerves?’
‘China tea would be lovely, thank you,’ she assented, grateful for something so normal. She needed to feel normal again—needed it badly.
As Rafael Sanguardo relayed her request to the barman she felt the backwash of what Karl had said to her start to fade. Her state of shock was ebbing, and so, too, finally, was the sense of incessant strain she’d been under all evening. But even as it ebbed a new emotion replaced it—the shimmering awareness of the man beside her.
Who had appeared out of nowhere to wrest Karl Reiner off her—
‘I don’t understand,’ she heard herself say. ‘How did you come to be here like this?’
There was bewilderment in her voice.
‘I’ve been meeting one of my UK CEOs for dinner,’ Rafael replied. ‘But I have to say...’ His tone of voice changed again, and his gaze rested on her. ‘I now understand the meaning of that English proverb that it is an ill wind that blows no one any good.’
He looked at her, but Celeste was blank. Rafael enlightened her.
‘Even though I would not wish Karl Reiner on anyone, at least he has given me the opportunity not only to be of some small service to you—he has also provided exactly the opportunity I have been wanting to take since the weekend.’ He paused deliberately, still looking at her. ‘To see you again,’ he said.
A troubled expression lit her face.
He saw it and said, his voice low, ‘Would that be so very unwelcome to you?’
She bit her lip. She wanted to find some way—a polite, considerate way, especially after his rescuing her from Karl—of telling him that what he wanted was impossible...just impossible!
Rafael saw her silence, needed to know if there was one reason that would be an immovable obstacle for him.
‘Is there someone else in your life right now?’
She swallowed, her expression still troubled. ‘No, but—’ She halted, not knowing what to say. How to say it.
Her hesitation was visible. A hideous thought speared Rafael’s head. His expression darkened. ‘Karl Reiner,’ he began, his voice harsh, ‘is he—?’
‘No! Dear God, no!’
Her rebuff was so instant, so vehement, that it could only be true. Relief flooded through Rafael. If for a moment he’d thought that that despicable piece of ordure had any kind of anything with her—
‘Gracias a Dios!’ he said feelingly.
‘How could you think—?’ She broke off, shuddering.
Of course she had nothing to do with Karl Reiner in that way! Someone like her would never, never think of such a liaison! Hadn’t she reacted strongly enough back there in the lobby to convince him of that? Her shock and disgust had been palpable.
He reached for his brandy, and as he took a mouthful an image formed in his mind. Madeline—Madeline being on the receiving end of what Karl Reiner had thrown at Celeste.
She’d have laughed. Laughed in his face, told him, ‘In your dreams!’ and walked off. Then she’d have regaled Rafael with it in bed. She’d have been totally unfazed by it, totally unaffected—she would have thought Reiner merely physically repellent, not repulsively offensive!
But Madeline was cut from completely different material from the woman at his side now. The woman who was cupping one slender hand around a teacup from which a delicate oriental fragrance was coiling upwards, stirring it with a silver teaspoon, focussed only on her task. He watched her for a moment, all thought of Madeline deleted as Celeste stirred her tea, inhaling the scent, and seemed visibly to calm herself.
‘Better?’ he asked quietly.
She nodded, lifting the cup to her lips to take a tiny sip of the hot liquid.
He let her be, contenting himself with looking at her. Her beauty, seen again after a space of days, was etching itself on his retinas. Tonight she was wearing a knee-length cocktail dress in eau de Nil, high cut at the neckline, with short cap sleeves. A jade necklace and earrings were her jewellery. Her hair was dressed differently, in a more complex style with braids and loops, but still worn up. An impulse went through him—a longing to see that incredible pale hair loosed from its confines, flowing like a silvery river over her naked alabaster shoulders...
He pulled his mind back from such impulses, focussing now on her features. Her perfect beauty was just the same as it had been when he’d seen her walking down the stairs at that charity event. A beauty that moved him so strangely—so strongly.
And so, too, did the other quality that had made him watch her then, as it did now.
That sense of aloneness—apartness. As if she moved in the world but was not fully part of it. As if it could not touch her.
What had she said about the stars? That they were very far away...
As she is.
His expression changed. But I will get close to her. With me she will not be alone, apart. I will draw her to me! Woo her and win her!
And he must make the most of this opportunity to begin his journey to that destination. She was here, beside him, and that, surely, was a start.
‘Tell me,’ he said, his voice holding in it nothing but quiet concern, ‘how is it that you were with Karl Reiner tonight if he is so repugnant to you? I know that you are the face of Blonde Visage, but—’
She lifted her face sharply. ‘How do you know that?’
He gave a half laugh. ‘I could say that your face is your giveaway,’ he said lightly, ‘but I have to confess that, since fashion magazines are not my usual reading matter, I found it out from your agency.’
Her face worked. ‘Why were you asking?’ she demanded. But there was no need to ask. She knew. Rafael Sanguardo had shown his interest in her—she had been naive to think that just because she had walked away from him the other evening it would not be possible for a man of his means to find out a great deal about her!
His expression was deliberately transparent. ‘I make no secret of the fact that I want to get to know you better, Celeste.’
It was strange to hear her name on his lips—a name she hadn’t told him. She would have preferred him never to know, so that she could sl
ip back into the shadows of life where she dwelt. But it was too late for that. All she could do now was hold him at bay, make it clear to him that whatever he was hoping for could not be.
‘So why did you have to be in Reiner’s unpalatable company?’ Rafael pursued.
She made herself give a slight shrug. ‘I’m still under contract, so it’s unavoidable. Tonight he was a guest of one of the fashion magazines he places a great deal of advertising with—that was his excuse for me having to be here.’
‘Excuse?’
She gave another shrug, not meeting his eyes, focussing only on the cup in front of her. ‘You heard what he wants. He made it plain enough.’ A sudden thought struck her, and without realising it she lifted her face to look at him.
‘What you did—back there—will he make trouble for you?’ There was concern in her voice. ‘He could do you for assault—’
‘He can try,’ said Rafael.
And there was something about the way he said it that made Celeste realise that Karl—or anyone—would be very, very foolish to attempt to make trouble for Rafael Sanguardo. There was a toughness about him that was unmistakable.
But there was chivalry, too, she acknowledged. Even if his intervention had proved opportune for him, allowing him to do what he was doing now. Getting to know her—
But it’s no use—no use at all. Nothing can come of it—nothing!
That was all she had to remember. And she should act on it right now. She should get to her feet, thank him once again and then go home—home to her little flat in Notting Hill: the fruit of her years of modelling, her quiet haven, where she could be apart from the hectic round of her career. Apart and alone.
The way she had to be.
Because nothing else was possible...would ever be possible...
She was condemned to the solitary life she led.
But Rafael Sanguardo was speaking again, interrupting her troubled thoughts. ‘What about for you?’ he was asking, that note of concern still evident in his deep, accented voice. ‘Will it make things difficult?’
She gave another shrug. ‘I’ve only got a few weeks left to run on my contract, and there’s little he can do in real terms. I most definitely will not be resigning! Oh, there’ll probably be some gossip—I dare say some of the people I work with will hear about it. But he has a reputation already, so it will hardly be a surprise.’