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‘Are you a designer?’ Stephanie continued.
Isobel nodded. ‘I own a boutique in Edinburgh. We stock a mixture of young, up-and-coming designers, and my own creations too.’
‘That’s amazing. It’s such a tough industry, isn’t it?’
Isobel took another long drink of wine before she replied. ‘It certainly is. I guess some people get lucky breaks, and others don’t,’ she added, her gaze finding Camille across the table.
Stephanie looked sympathetic. ‘Maybe you should speak to Camille, see if she can help out.’
Isobel laughed lightly, a strange expression crossing her face. ‘Yes, perhaps I should.’
‘After all, it’s all about connections. Who you know, and all of that …’
‘Mmm,’ Isobel nodded. Suddenly she had an idea, her eyes alight as she turned to Stephanie. ‘Won’t you have a big premiere coming up for your next movie? Perhaps I could design something for you?’
Stephanie looked apologetic, and Isobel instantly felt like a fool for asking. She was an unknown designer from Edinburgh – of course Stephanie wouldn’t want to work with her. ‘Forget I even asked,’ Isobel insisted.
‘It’s just that Camille’s already offered to dress me for my next premiere, and I said yes. She’s designing something for Catherine, you see – Michael has a big event in Los Angeles later this year – and we got talking when she came round to the house …’
‘I completely understand,’ Isobel insisted, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice. ‘Of course you’d want a big name for your premiere, not some unknown—’
‘I honestly do love your dress,’ Stephanie rushed to reassure her. ‘And there’ll be loads of events, and press conferences, and overseas premieres. Oh, you could design something for the UK premiere, in London. That would be incredible, and it’s the one I’m most excited about. It’ll be like a homecoming.’
‘Really? I’d love to.’ Isobel was genuinely thrilled, feeling a rush of warmth towards Stephanie. This could be her big break; her dress could be on the front page of the world’s press, and the exposure would be priceless. ‘You’d look incredible in cream or pale gold with your colouring. I can just imagine you in something chiffon and strapless, with a fitted bodice and full skirt …’
‘What’s this, darling?’ Stuart leaned across, picking up on the tail end of their conversation.
‘I offered to design a dress for Stephanie,’ Isobel explained excitedly, noticing that Camille was now speaking to Catherine and Michael. To her surprise, Stuart pulled a face, apparently not sharing her enthusiasm.
‘Oh, Isobel, would you leave the poor woman alone?’ he said, with an apologetic glance at Stephanie. ‘Don’t be so bloody desperate. She’s probably got famous designers falling over themselves to dress her, why would she want something of yours?’
Isobel felt as though she’d been slapped. She felt her cheeks flame, humiliation burning through her.
‘No, it’s fine,’ Stephanie insisted, coming to her rescue. ‘I’d love Isobel to design something for me. I adore what she’s wearing tonight.’
‘That’s very sweet of you, but you don’t have to pretend,’ Stuart continued. He was slurring his words a little, and Isobel realized he was drunk – though that didn’t excuse the unpleasant way he was behaving. ‘I’m sure you’d much rather wear Gucci or something, and I don’t blame you for that. Honestly, Isobel, you’re embarrassing yourself.’
‘No, you’re embarrassing me,’ she hissed back, feeling close to tears. She snatched up her bag, on the verge of walking out, when dessert arrived at the table – a traditional crema catalana, flavoured with lemon zest and topped with candied walnuts. It gave Isobel a moment to compose herself, and the conversation moved on, with Stephanie tactfully changing the subject as Isobel ignored Stuart.
After everyone had finished eating, Camille rose to her feet. ‘Thank you all so much for coming. I’ve had a wonderful evening, and I hope you have too, but unfortunately I have a lot of work still to do this evening and an early start tomorrow, so I’m going to bid you all adieu. Please, stay as long as you like. I’m sure my son will make you feel welcome.’
Camille made her way around the table, saying goodbye to each of her guests, smiling and air-kissing. The restaurant was beginning to quieten down as she picked up her bag and went outside to find her driver, blissfully unaware of the way Isobel’s eyes followed her as she left.
Chapter 6
Stephanie was thoroughly enjoying herself, carried through the evening on a bubble of happiness. It had been so nice of Camille to invite her to the dinner, and she’d had a fabulous time chatting with Isobel – until her husband had made his nasty intervention.
Stephanie’s gaze drifted across the restaurant to where Lucas was tidying up. He was joking around with his staff; the team clearly got on well, and he was obviously well liked. He was speaking in Spanish, so Stephanie didn’t understand what he was saying, but they didn’t need to speak the same language for her to appreciate his smouldering hazel eyes and gym-honed physique. She watched the way he moved, biceps rippling beneath his chef’s whites, in awe of the way he was so dominant in the kitchen. She found herself wondering whether he was dominant in the bedroom too …
Stephanie finished her glass of ratafia – Lucas had brought out a bottle of the traditional Catalan digestif and encouraged them to help themselves – and realized she felt a little drunk. Isobel was now chatting to Stuart, whilst Michael and Catherine shared a private joke, and before she had time to talk herself out of it, Stephanie got up and walked towards the kitchen. She stopped at the entrance and locked eyes with Lucas.
‘Do you need a waiter?’ he asked, moving towards her. He spoke English with a French accent, and she found it incredibly sexy. She loved that he was fluent in multiple languages; he seemed different from all the men she’d dated in Brighton, or the vacuous airheads of the acting world, who only cared about their ‘profile’ and who was getting what parts.
She grinned cheekily at Lucas. ‘I was just checking out your equipment.’
Lucas raised his eyebrows.
‘It’s all working nicely, thank you.’
