by Laura Burton
“Don’t mess this up for me. You’ve already made me look like a fool once today.”
Julie apologized again and hung up the phone. Frank worked with Julie at Estelle’s fashion department. He was head of the department, but he acted like he was a king. There were three rules in the office: 1. No jokes. 2. No talking back to him and 3. No one taking work home. Julie snuck the dress out of the office to get away from the constant noise and bustle. There must have been over one-hundred sewing machines, almost always on the go, and the tension in the air quashed Julie’s creativity. How could she focus with Frank breathing down her neck?
Estelle’s fashion line took pride in having their own in-house dress-making department, but the way the workers were treated made Julie feel like she was working in a sweatshop. If it wasn’t for Emily and her cinnamon rolls, Julie would have left New York a long time ago. Emily worshipped Estelle and thought Julie had the most glamorous job in the world; she didn’t have the heart to explain just how unglamorous her job really was.
Julie was so busy frantically working on the dress that she did not notice her phone, which remained quiet all morning. If she had not been so caught up in the stress of getting her work done, she would have been on edge expecting Harry’s call.
“You’re cutting it close.” Frank looked up from his watch and his eyes narrowed at Julie as she walked in. “Is it finished?”
Before Julie could respond, a tall slender woman with her hair cut into a neat bob exploded into the room.
“Frank, darling, I need those dresses.” Her high-pitched voice grated on Julie’s ears and she internally winced as the woman barged past her. Julie hung up the dress and stood lamely by the desk, not sure whether to leave the room or speak up. It was Frank who dealt with the clients. Julie shouldn’t even be in his office.
“Noelle, have I ever let you down?” Frank held out his hand and took the woman’s hand in his, pressing his lips to her bony fingers.
“Hmm. There’s a first for everything.” She wiped her knuckles on her white pencil skirt and turned to the clothes rack sitting proudly in the center of the room.
Julie shot a nervous glance to Frank, who stood immobile as Noelle rummaged through the dresses like a bargain hunter as she made various noises of approval.
Noelle Sunderland was a formidable woman. She was one of Estelle’s most senior managers. Always scrupulously dressed with only the latest trends, she kept her figure to an eye-wateringly tiny size. She walked and talked as if she were Estelle Voir, herself. Julie wondered if the harsh exterior was a mandatory requirement to be at her senior level in the company. Are women only to be taken seriously when they walk around barking at people, treating the staff as peasants?
“Phil,” Noelle shouted, snapping Julie out of her thoughts. The door swung open and a tall, balding man wearing tiny black spectacles hurried into the room. He glanced at Julie and they shared a mutual eye roll.
“Get these downstairs,” Noelle snapped. Phil muttered something inaudible and wrestled with the clothes rack as he vacated the room. “Heaven’s sake… careful!” Noelle shot a steely look at Frank. “The photoshoot was delayed by an hour. You were lucky the model was late, otherwise I would be speaking to HR and having your head.”
Julie gasped, alerting Noelle of her presence. Noelle’s eyes darted across the room and she studied Julie for a moment.
“And you are?”
“No one, she’s nobody,” Frank said quickly. Julie stared at him affronted.
“I’m Julie Andrews. I made those gowns.”
“You’re a seamstress?” The hint of disdain in her voice made Julie’s blood boil. She offered a forced smile and a nod as Noelle tilted her head to the side as if weighing Julie up.
“You’ll do.” She turned back to Frank. “I’m taking her with me for the afternoon. You don’t mind, do you?”
Frank’s mouth hung open so wide, Julie saw every single one of his veneers. Noelle, however, did not wait for a response. “Come,” she barked and patted her thigh as if to summon a dog. As Julie followed, she glanced back at Frank who stood still, his face entirely red and his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping its last breath.
Chapter Six
An Unexpected Greeting
“Did you find anything?” Harry asked Benjamin as he greeted him by the car. They walked together as a rally of paparazzi swarmed them. Benjamin shook his head before he gestured for the rest of the security team to step in and manage the chaos. The team stood like guards and forced the people back to create a clear path to the doors of Estelle’s offices.
Paparazzi were like a different breed of humans. With no regard for personal space, they fought tooth and nail to get the best shot. Harry was used to it. His popularity soared three years ago when one of his movies broke box office records. It was a two-hour long space opera movie, with only one actor. Bradley Stokes. The whole shoot took less than six weeks and post production went surprisingly well. It was the least expensive movie he’d ever made, and it went viral.
Harry had many enemies. Which was odd, because he considered himself friendly and agreeable. But that was show business. It wasn’t personal.
He wondered why anyone would care about him dating Julie. She was a seamstress. What’s the big deal? Maybe the note he’d received the night before came from a disgruntled actor who didn’t make the cut, or perhaps Julie had an ex-boyfriend who couldn’t let her go? What did “Walk away now” really mean? Walk away from Julie or the current movie deal?
Harry shook his head and emptied his mind of his negative thoughts. He was scheduled to drop in on a promotional photoshoot for his upcoming release—a romance set in Ancient Greece, loosely based on Helen of Troy, the woman said to be so beautiful her face launched a thousand ships.
Julie’s face could do that, Harry thought to himself. His heart warmed at the memory of her pout as she blinked at him, fluttering her lashes. The warmth spread from his chest throughout the rest of his body and he became weak at the knees.
“Harold, we were not expecting to see you.” A tall lady with an austere expression held out her thin hand for him to take.
“I’m just checking in, Noelle, don’t worry. I’m sure you’ve got everything under control.”
Harry glanced at the set. A massive green-screen filled the back of the hall, and two people posed for the photographer. A team dressed in black were positioning huge spotlights and a woman was crouched down to adjust the dress on one of the models. Harry looked back at Noelle, then tuned back in.
“Sabrina is sick. No matter, I have a stand-in and Bertie will photoshop Sabrina’s head onto the stand-in’s body.” Noelle sounded bored; her eyes were drooping, and she stood resting her elbow in her hand and stroked a tuft of hair behind her ear. Harry turned and noticed the woman adjusting the model’s dress had moved. His mouth fell open.
It’s her.
She stood with her back arched and her right arm draped over the shoulder of Matt, the main character. He grasped the back of her gown roughly and her head went back, her long platinum hair flowing to her waist. Harry’s stomach tangled as he swallowed against the dryness in his mouth.
“Kiss her cheek,” Noelle, coming back to life, barked as she strutted across the hall to stand next to the photographer. Harry watched Julie flinch as Matt lowered his head to brush his lips against her cheekbone. Harry’s hands were balled into tight fists as he looked on. Julie’s eyes flitted to him and widened as a look of recognition flashed across her face. Harry gave an awkward wave before he lowered his hand and stood rooted on the spot.
Max, the photographer, was the best of the best. Fast, to-the-point and very precise, he did not need much time to get the shots they needed, and within half an hour the entire shoot was finished. Matt dropped his hands and marched off without a word to Julie, who stood with her arms hanging by her sides and looking at Noelle for further instructions.
She wore a long Grecian gown. It was sheer and if it weren
’t for the modesty slip, there would be little left to the imagination. The way the dress draped over her body was so delicate and elegant, it gave Harry goose bumps. He found himself staring at Julie, who was looking so lost. He wanted to scoop her up in his arms and carry her out of the hall, away from all these people. This was not her world. She was so sweet, so tender, so beautiful; it seemed a crime to expose her to this environment.
Hollywood is brutal. Why did Noelle drag her into this?
Noelle barked instructions to her as if she were a dog. Not the gorgeous, respectable woman she was. But that was Noelle being Noelle; she treated everyone like that. She was known as the “battle axe,” but she got things done. And that made her the best in the business.
Julie picked up the skirt of her dress and tiptoed bare foot across the hall. This was Harry’s chance. But something held him back. The words of that note burned across his mind.
… or I will destroy you.
If the note is about her, is she worth the drama? In the face of adversity, Harry often ran as far as possible in the other direction. The media made him out to be a brooding, heartbreaker, who had little regard for anyone’s feelings. He got the job done—much like Noelle. Only, he was not like Noelle, and his team orchestrated circumstances to make him appear “hardier” than he was.
Harry blinked out of his thoughts and noticed Julie approaching him. A waft of perfume filled his nostrils and her smile melted his resolve. How could he stop seeing her? That smile. He got a rush of dopamine every time he saw it.
“Hi there,” Julie said, rubbing her arms.
“You don’t speak to anyone! Don’t forget your place, seamstress,” Noelle yelled across the set. Harry’s heart sank at her words.
Does she really have to be that harsh?
“It’s all right Noelle, we’re… friends.”
Noelle’s eyes narrowed as she looked from Harry to Julie, then returned her judging gaze to Harry. Huffing out a sigh of disgust, she marched off tutting to herself.
“I’m told you saved the day,” Harry said mildly. Julie’s face lit up at his words. She placed her hands on her waist and squared her shoulders.
“Oh sure, that’s me. Always happy to save a photoshoot from disaster.” She laughed to herself. Harry tried not to glance down at her chest as it heaved up and down in that decadent dress. Her body moved fluidly and in a way that had him enchanted.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call you this morning.” Harry chewed the inside of his cheek and awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, thinking of a plausible lie to tell her. Should he let her know about the threat he received? Maybe she had an idea who wrote it?
“Oh, I didn’t even notice.”
Julie’s words stung, as if a poisonous dart shot him right between the eyes. His face must have mirrored his feelings, because a look of horror crossed Julie’s. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean that to sound so….” She pushed her wavy hair back from her shoulders and sighed. “It’s been a weird morning.” She reached out and touched Harry’s forearm briefly. Her fingers set off a chain reaction through his whole body.
“I see that. So modeling isn’t your usual thing?”
Julie shook her head and nervously eyed someone behind Harry before she could reply. The fast approaching footsteps alerted him to turn around.
“We have a situation with Matt,” Benjamin muttered. Harry followed his line of sight to see Matt had returned and was looking at him intently, his broad arms folded making his shoulders look even bigger.
“I’m sorry,” he said turning back to Julie. She eyed him expectantly, her hands still resting on her hips. “Are you free right now?”
Julie glanced back at Noelle who was standing off to the side, talking to the photographer, then she looked back at Harry, her eyes bright.
“I think so.” It was a simple answer yet seemed to set off fireworks inside Harry’s head.
“Great. I will come and find you in a minute.”
Julie nodded coyly and walked toward Noelle but stopped and glanced back at Harry. They shared a mutual look of admiration and Harry’s heart raced.
Taking a deep breath, he turned back toward Matt.
“Right. Let’s see what he wants now.”
Chapter Seven
A Touch of Love
Julie maintained composure until she entered the changing room; she clenched her fists and did a little dance. Having only worked in the manufacturing side of the building, she hadn’t had an opportunity to see the studio downstairs. The grandeur of the high ceilings and fancy equipment blew her away. Massive green-screens, tall, high-tech lighting equipment, and racks and racks of clothes. Oddly, the team of stylists that had been perfecting her hair and correcting the way her dress draped on the floor had Julie feeling giddy. The flashing lights and all eyes on her would usually be the idea of a nightmare, yet something about putting on that Grecian gown, wearing masses of blonde hair extensions, and layers of makeup made her feel like she was totally in character.
For a short time, she was in somebody else’s shoes. Not the shy, simple seamstress living in a foreign country, but a gorgeous actress, modeling for the front cover of her next big Hollywood blockbuster.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the tall mirror and her heart skipped a beat. The hair and makeup team had transformed her to look like Helen of Troy. According to Greek myth, she was married when Paris––a prince from another land––instantly fell in love with her beauty. He launched an attack on Sparta to kidnap Helen.
How fitting to be in the arms of Matt Broker when Harry walked in; he was the last person she expected to see. Noelle told her nothing about the producers for the movie, only that she needed to stand-in for an actress who fell sick.
This day was turning out crazier than she could have dreamed. Emily would love this. It was a perfect opportunity to spend more time with Harry. Part of her wondered if Emily had somehow engineered it all; it wouldn’t be surprising if her friend had something to do with the actress’ mysterious illness. She’d known Emily to take her matchmaking business far too seriously on occasion.
Julie stepped out of her dress and carefully draped it over the chair. She stared at it for a few moments deep in thought. A scenario played out in her mind of her wearing the dress and walking arm in arm with Harry in a beautiful garden, when a knock on the door snapped her out of her reverie. In a flash, she grabbed the dress back up and held it to her body like a shield.
“Yes,” Julie called out in a startled tone. The door swung open and Julie yelped at the sight of Harry standing in the doorway while she stood there undressed.
“Sorry, I thought you meant I could come in.” Harry’s face turned crimson as he backed out of the room and quickly closed the door. Julie scrambled to pull on her jeans, jumping up and down to force the denim over her hips.
“I thought you were Noelle!” Bending down she picked up her rumpled shirt off the floor, stuffed it over her head, then smoothed the material over her stomach. “Okay”—she flicked her hair back and opened the door slowly—“you can come in.”
Harry ruffled his hair and offered a sheepish smile.
“Hi,” he said in a low, silky voice, as if they were meeting each other for the very first time. His bashfulness sent rushes of energy through Julie’s body, wanting her to run over and throw her arms around his shoulders. She cleared her throat and forced herself to stop fantasizing.
“Hi,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant.
The two of them stood facing each other, looking a little lost for a moment. They cast their eyes about the room as if waiting for further instructions. Julie surveyed him closely. His shirt revealed just enough of his collarbone to show off his tanned skin. As she scrutinized him, he brought his finger to his lips, and her eye caught the leather bracelet wrapped around his right wrist. He opened his mouth to speak, but seemed to change his mind.
Julie decided to break the tension. “So, where are we going?” The question snapped
Harry out of a daze.
“Right. About that.” He glanced behind him as if to check no one was eavesdropping, before he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Julie took an automatic step backward; the two of them alone in the changing room sent flurries of excitement through her.
“Matt––you know the guy you were taking photos with––has a few concerns about the press tour, so I need to take a rain check.”
“Oh” was all Julie could say, wishing she was more eloquent, or could at least muster up a few syllables.
“I’m really sorry.” He shifted his weight uncomfortably and clapped his hands. “Are you free tonight?”
Julie was free. Her next batch of dresses were not due for another week, and besides work she had zero social life. When she wasn’t working her fingers to the bone, her evenings consisted of Netflix marathons while snuggled up with Tabby. It was not the thing she needed to confess to the big-shot movie producer who was currently canceling their impromptu date.
“I’ll have to check my diary,” she joked, resisting the urge to laugh at herself. She decided to trust he wouldn’t cancel again the next time one of the actors had a pressing need.
Harry nodded but his brooding manner sent Julie’s thoughts back to the carriage ride through Central Park.
His furrowed brows and deep, piercing eyes were enough to lower any woman’s defenses. Julie took a tentative step forward and touched his arm, realizing he didn’t get her humor. A spark lit up behind his eyes at her touch. “I’m kidding. What did you want to do?”
Chapter Eight
Music for the Soul
Harry anxiously shifted in his seat in his office listening to Matt ranting about his costar Sabrina.
“I’m not doing the tour without her. You’re going to have to sort it out.”
“She’s sick. What am I supposed to do?”
Matt shrugged and folded his arms. “Not my problem.” He reclined against the back of his chair and eyed Harry shrewdly.