“And lovely for my pretty little friend here,” said Francois, winking at Sasha.
Sophia’s face was dark as thunder. “Not bad for a whore,” she said beneath her breath, then spun on her heel and stalked off.
I gasped at her words, but Francois was stifling laughter. “Bonsoir, Madame Delavigne!” he called after her. I nearly choked at the name. “Don’t mind her, sweetie. She’s just got her panties in a knot. I’m sure you’ve heard all about how her daughter practically left Prince at the altar.” He put a hand to his mouth in mock shock. “Oops. You did know that, didn’t you?”
I shrugged. I had no doubt this man took delight in causing trouble. “I’d heard something along those lines,” I replied. I’d never delved into the details of Prince’s relationship with Angelique Delavigne. I’d gathered it was intense, though. We hadn’t spoken about the motivations for my contract much, but I knew his ex had a lot to do with it. I was supposed to present myself as a doting fiancée for his father and show the world how happy he was without Angelique. Until last night, I’d thought we’d moved beyond that. Now I didn’t know anything anymore.
“Well, sweetie,” Francois was saying, “I suppose it must have been intimidating for you to step into those shoes. That woman is a man-eater. She’s left a trail of broken hearts in her wake. I don’t know what she does to them, but those poor boys are never the same afterward.”
I swallowed hard. “How awful,” I murmured. I reached for the bottle of water in front of me and carefully sipped from the straw in it.
“Oh! Not that I’m saying she did that to your Prince, of course. I’m certain he’s simply mad about you, sweetie!” He leaned back to survey his handiwork, seemed satisfied, then stepped behind me.
I looked at my face reflected in the mirror. The color of my eyes was made almost insanely vivid by the dark application of shadow and liner. Silvery lips and hollowed cheekbones were intended to make me appear like a water nymph. We’d be launching the new Ardmore line of marine-based products this evening. I was going to be raised to a stage set to look like a rolling ocean with several other models.
Right now, I just wanted to go home. I wanted to fix things with my man.
“Anyway, I think you’re very brave,” he added. “I had to work with Angelique Delavigne a few times, and she was a complete bitch. It didn’t surprise me at all when I heard she ditched poor Prince for that Russian count, Dmitri what’s-his-name.” He fluffed my hair. “Although if she’d known he’d forked out so much for that ring he ended up giving you, she might have reconsidered.”
“I…can imagine,” I whispered.
“And anyway, why should you care that it was meant to be hers, sweetie? It’s so fabulous I wouldn’t care if they’d fished it out of a sewer and handed it to me.”
I gulped hard. I hadn’t known it was intended for her. Angelique had implied it that day, but I thought she was just trying to upset me.
“Right! Places, please!” the stage director called out, snapping my attention. Francois gave a quick look in the direction of the voice.
“That’s your call, sweetie. Break a leg!” He stepped away as I rose from my seat. The wardrobe manager had materialized and was fussing with my dress. Diaphanous to the point of being transparent, the silvery chiffon floated around me in soft waves. Although it may have floated down to my thighs, in the right light, my nipples were visible. They’d assured me that my hair would cover me, but I didn’t have time to worry about it. I was being taken by the arm and firmly guided to a platform suspended above a stage.
Beyond the blinding stage lights, I was aware of murmurs and rustles. And then the music began, overlaid by a dramatic voiceover announcing the new range. Standing in a giant oyster shell, I rose into the spotlights, my hair streaming over my shoulders, over my breasts to my hips. As instructed, I was posing like Botticelli’s Venus, a hand across my breasts, another resting over my mound. There was a hushed sound of appreciation and then growing applause. For the next few minutes, the other models and I twirled about with the wind machine blowing our hair dramatically while the announcer extolled the virtues of the various ingredients.
Finally, the lights dimmed on the stage, and for the first time, I was able to see the crowd in attendance. I stepped back into my shell, gave a tiny curtsey, then raised my chin. And looked straight up at Prince in the doorway with his head tilted to the face of Angelique Delavigne as she brushed her lips over his.
Chapter 7
Prince Walker
“What are you doing here?” I asked bluntly. Angelique Delavigne was running her fingers along my sleeve.
“Oh, darling, is that any way to speak to the love of your life?” she said lightly.
“No, it’s not. But it’s a great way to speak to you,” I snapped.“What do you want, Angelique?” If my words struck a nerve, it didn’t show. Her cat-like smile remained firmly in place.
I’d spent the afternoon with Andy at The Oaks, waiting for the call from his team. I’d probably put away one too many whiskies. They’d added to the dark cloud left by the half-bottle I’d finished last night. It was a dark cloud that continued to hang over me even when we got word that Sasha’s brother had been safely released. The old Prince would have gone home then, and left Sasha to think I was angry with her. I couldn’t do it, though. I had to see her now. Had to clear the air.
By the time I’d arrived at Sasha’s show, I’d felt a swirling annoyance set in. I had a nagging headache, and a pervasive sense of doom, which I knew was attached to a night with no sleep. And the constant tension caused by this whole insane situation. Then I’d seen her rise into the stage lights like a goddess – I was transfixed. Torn between the agony of betrayal and the future I’d been planning with this woman before me.
When Angelique had materialized from the crowd, it had been the last thing I needed. I wanted time to think, to mull over what all this meant to Sasha and me. I’d taken her into my most private spaces, and yet she was still keeping so much from me.
“You’re looking tired, darling,” Angelique continued, stroking a fingertip down my cheek. “Is it the stress? Isn’t that girl looking after you?” I really wished she would stop touching me, but the woman seemed convinced she had rights over me. When she cupped her palm around my cheek, I grasped it firmly, peeled it away, and leaned down.
“Get your fucking hands off me, Angelique,” I muttered. Her eyes widened slightly, but before I could step back, she’d pressed her lips against mine. For fuck’s sakes!
“I’m sorry you’re grumpy, baby,” she whispered. “You remember that I know how to make it all better, don’t you?”
“Angie! Darling, how lovely! I see you’re rekindling old flames,” a voice broke into the moment. Angelique stepped back, her lips curled up into a sly smile.
“Ah, I was wondering where you’d gone to, Mom,” she said to Sophia Delavigne. Perfect. One of the Delavigne women was enough to set my teeth on edge. Both of them at once would be intolerable.
