The Consequence She Cannot Deny. Bella Frances
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No. I didn’t realise.’
Could this get any more awkward?
Mariella’s wily, exquisitely arched brows rose. ‘Angel, no one who dresses in Sophia Loren’s hand-me-downs is fooling anyone. You think you can get your claws into Raffaele? Let me give you some free advice. You’re just some light relief between emails. Don’t think that your fumble on the terrace is going to get you on some fast track to fame. There’s a whole stable of little fillies like you, waiting for him to click his fingers. So take it from me—success is about what you put in, not about how well you put out.’
‘I don’t know what you think you know, Mariella, but I can promise you this: I am here for one reason and one reason only. I want to make a name for myself.’
‘You already have, angel. You already have.’
Mariella winked at her, then shook her head as she breezed past, leaving Coral adrift in the swarm of people packing things away.
But she was right. She was absolutely right. This was her career, not a fantasy island adventure. Raffaele Rossini was not going to chase after her when she was back in London. She’d been a distraction this afternoon and that was it. He was off the charts and off the agenda in every single way. Every. Single. Way.
Thank goodness she’d had the strength of will to resist him earlier. It had taken every ounce of her resolve not to kiss him back. When he’d touched her she’d wanted to melt into him. When he’d held her face she’d wanted to close her eyes and slide into heaven...
But that wasn’t why she was here. She was shoving open the door of her career. And it would slam in her face if she messed up.
‘Miss Dahl?’
She looked up from the images on the laptop into the face of a very attractive young man.
‘Signor Rossini wishes you to attend a meeting at his villa.’
‘Oh! I haven’t quite finished, and my things—’
‘The meeting is due to start now.’
Coral looked around. Mariella and the fashion staff had disappeared and the clothes were being packed away. Only a few junior staff still wandered about, tidying up the loggia.
‘Is it really important?’
He gave her an Are you serious? look and shook his head.
‘Follow me, please.’
It would be fine. It was probably a meeting to look through the images she’d shot and select the best, decide what needed to be filtered or airbrushed. Mariella would be there. And the other senior staff. Maybe they would be planning the next shoot. There was talk that Kyla was going to ask Salvatore to do a couple shoot.
She picked up her precious camera and tucked it in her bag. Then she followed the brisk pace set by the man back through the house and out to the front entrance, into a black buggy and along the short paved road to Raffaele’s villa.
Her stomach fluttered and she felt the dirt and dust of the day on her as she tried to wipe her damp hands on her dress.
‘Do you think I could clean up before I meet Signor Rossini?’ she asked the young man, but he merely opened the door and closed it behind her as she once more stepped inside the spectacular house.
‘You may bathe in Aphrodite’s Pool, if you like.’
* * *
‘Raffaele?’
She looked around for signs of the others, but the eerie green glow from the sunken pool and the shimmer of light from the chandelier landed on a room that was quite deserted.
‘Indeed. Thank you for joining me,’ he said, beckoning for her to follow as he led her through the lounge and out to the terrace.
It was already lit with candles and tiny lights, and there was a glimmering curtain between the wide, low walls and the high hedges beyond.
‘I thought it was important to close our discussion more appropriately than the last time. Mariella has just left. She thought things went very well. You have potential.’
‘Thank you,’ said Coral, following behind him.
Her eyes shifted from the broad slope of his shoulders in a tight T-shirt to the tight fit of his trousers across his backside as he walked. He stopped and turned so suddenly that she realised she’d been caught staring.
She looked up at the unreadable, unbearably handsome face and blushed.
‘Yes, everyone seemed pleased,’ she babbled. ‘Especially Kyla. She channelled her inner supermodel and looked quite the goddess—but in a very tasteful way. I’m so glad you’re pleased.’
‘Yes, I am. Very pleased.’
He took the bag that hung limply from her hand and put it down. The butterflies in her stomach soared. To please Mariella was one thing, but to please the CEO of Romano with the list of conditions he had set was another thing entirely. She felt almost dizzy with pride.
‘I couldn’t be more pleased,’ he said.
And, although she knew he wasn’t just talking about her work, she was flattered.
‘That makes me feel very proud,’ she said.
‘So you should be.’
He stared into her eyes and she tried to look away, but the inky irises drew her in deeper and deeper. He smiled, ever so slightly, and her eyes fell to his mouth, to the perfect shapes and shadows.
Oh, my God! He’s going to kiss me!
Her treacherous body fluttered with longing. But he smiled gently and the moment passed as he turned back towards the lights of the house.
Air flew from her lungs like a burst balloon. She felt light-headed. Undone. And nothing had even happened.
‘You can bask in your glory all evening at the party.’
‘What party?’ she said, swallowing.
‘It’s been a good day. Kyla’s lust for cheap glamour has been held in check. Mariella has pulled off a great feature. Of course there will be a party. They’re getting it ready now, at the old villa. Salvatore is coming here shortly—we have some things to discuss—and then we will come over to join you all.’
He was inside now, walking back to the lounge. The dogs pricked up their ears and tracked him with their eyes as he passed.
‘That’s amazing. I mean, I’m really, really pleased that you liked the work. Do you think...?’ She paused.
‘Do I think that there might be more commissions to follow?’ he said.
He unscrewed a bottle of water and poured it out slowly, rhythmically.
‘Perhaps... Kyla has some idea of a couple thing with Salvatore, so maybe they’ll want you to do that before the wedding. Mariella will talk that through with you tonight.’
‘That’s incredible. I can’t thank you enough.’
Her mind whirred. A party. The staff would all be there. Mariella and the others, drinking champagne and looking so well put together—the way they always looked. They worked in an industry where everything was about looking perfect, and they had access to every product, every accessory under the sun. Her vintage thrift shop dress had been just about good enough for daytime, but she’d look ridiculous wearing it again tonight.
‘I wish I’d known. I thought I’d be flying home tonight. I never imagined I’d be invited to a party. I’ve not brought anything to wear.’
‘That’s never a problem on a fashion shoot. Everyone will be helping themselves.’
‘But I can’t wear those clothes! I’m a totally different shape.’
‘There’ll be