Chapter 50
Kjell
The makeup artist fromTouch av lyxlooks at me as if I'm out of my mind. "Sky? There's no one like that here."
"But she must be here," I reply. "Sky Blohm, the..." I wanted to saydaughter of Gustav Blohm, but I keep quiet just to be safe. "Long red curls, a beautiful face, deep blue eyes. Some people also call her Skady."
She shrugs and reaches for a makeup brush, dipping it into the container in her hand. "I'm sorry," she says, then turns back to the model. "I've been the only redhead here for over three hours."
Part of me can't believe it, and even though I try to understand what that means, I can't quite grasp it.
"Thank you, I'll keep looking," I mutter and leave the dressing room.
In the hallway, I look to the right and then to the left. There's no one in sight.
"Okay, to sum it up: she's not in the audience area, and she's not in the dressing room either. Apparently, she hasn't even been backstage today," I mumble to myself, the one lastnewspaper intended for Sky tucked under my arm, massaging my temples.
What if she really isn't here? What if her father instructed her to hide?
In the background, music starts playing. The show begins. I have no choice but to head back to the front. There, I can at least give Sky's mother the newspaper and ask her to pass it on. That's my only chance because after the threats from Gustav Blohm's lawyers, I shouldn't get anywhere near the company headquarters or the Blohm Villa.
I won't get to see Sky reading the words I've written just for her. I won't be there to find out if she understands what I'm trying to say. But at least she'll get the article.
With heavy shoulders, I walk through the hallway toward the door leading to the public area. Even though I have little hope, I keep looking around for Sky.
Unsuccessful.
The show is in full swing as I reach the foyer once again. The host calls out one label after another. I enter the dimly lit room, which is filled to the last seat. Chloe Morrigan and her team watch from a separate loge. I quickly make my way past the rows of seats and head toward where I saw Sky's mother earlier.
Onstage, a model is wearing a magnificent feathered gown. The white plumage sways elegantly on her body, and the audience applauds.
"Ladies and gentlemen, that was the presentation byM.D.E. What a dress, isn't it?" the host asks from the edge of the stage.
Enthusiastic whistles fill the room, and the music grows quieter. I'm almost at my destination, and I can already see Sky's mother in her seat.
Clutching the newspaper tightly, I approach her.
"And now, the penultimate design for this evening. From the brand-new label,Stjärnor i skyn Designs," the host announces, met with a restrained round of applause from the audience.
Melancholic piano music fills the air as I take the final steps toward Sky's mother. Suddenly, there's restlessness in the room. The audience starts whispering, and I see puzzled faces. A stylishly dressed lady points toward the runway.
Automatically, I turn toward the stage.
There's no one there.
Only a runway illuminated by a soft yellow spotlight and the music with its slow but intense melody.
The host wipes his hands on his pants and looks questioningly toward the side exit of the stage.
"Is something going to happen today?" someone from the audience calls out to the front, causing the music to stop.
Eerie silence envelops the room. It's as if the crowd is collectively holding its breath.
I don't know why, but I find myself doing the same.
My gaze shifts back and forth between the spot where the model should have appeared and the host.
He nods.
