Page 24 of Winter With You

‘I am calling the police⁠—’

The rude man stopped talking. He seemed to be unable to get his breath, the taller guy’s hand tight to his throat, all strong, long fingers pinching. White Knight.

‘Are we done?’ the taller man asked as Rude Man went a puce colour. ‘Because if I’m not hearing an apology for Ms Felix when I put you down we can stay here until you fall down. Your choice, Mr Torres.’

Ms Felix. He knew her name? Mr Torres? In quick succession Gabriella’s eyes went from White Knight to Rude Man. Benoit Torres. The actor?

There were choking sounds and then Benoit’s feet hit the sidewalk and right away he was rubbing his throat with his hands before finally looking at Gabriella.

‘Sorry,’ he said, gruff and weak.

And then Gabriella got a good look at the White Knight. Definitely recognisable now. It was the guy from the restaurant yesterday. And then he was stepping towards her, the hand that had been around Benoit Torres’s throat outstretched in offering.

‘Good morning, Ms Felix,’ he greeted with a smile. ‘I’m Luca Manning. Your stylist.’

What. The. Fuck.

16

‘You were expecting a woman.’ Luca smiled, his hand still offered but currently untaken.

‘No,’ Gabriella replied. ‘But I wasn’t expecting the guy from the restaurant yesterday and I’m just, you know, wondering if I take your hand whether I’ll end up in a mixed martial arts position against that wall.’

‘You’re safe,’ he answered. ‘That never happens at a first appointment.’ God, why had he drenched that entire sentence in libido. Because, if he had thought Gabriella had looked good yesterday, she looked even better now buttoned up in her fake designer jacket he felt held a story, tendrils of her dark hair escaping from under her woollen hat. She was a little older than him, he knew that now from his internet research – thirty-four to his twenty-eight – but he was of the opinion that you liked what you liked when it came to attraction. He continued. ‘But, you know, if I offer you a bottle of water, I don’t want to worry about having to duck either, so we’re kind of even.’

‘I might go for the full-on knock out, depending on what outfits you’re going to try to truss me up in.’

‘It’s never my intention to unwillingly truss someone up, Ms Felix.’ He waited a beat, watched her pupils dance. ‘That would make me poor at my job and I’m not poor at my job.’ He smiled. ‘But, you know, I will let you be the judge.’

‘Can we go inside now? It’s freezing out here.’

The question came from the young girl stood at the door, shivering a little despite her thick coat.

‘Yes, er, this is Phoebe, my niece. Phoebe, this is my stylist,’ Gabriella introduced.

‘Hello,’ the girl greeted with a small wave.

‘It’s nice to meet you, Phoebe. And I think there will be a hot chocolate with your name on it inside.’

‘Really?’

‘Sure.’

‘And, what is going to have my name on it?’ Gabriella asked him.

He smiled. ‘When I’ve finished dressing you, every magazine in the city.’

‘You’re very confident, aren’t you?’

‘No,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Not at all. Just honest.’

And, as they all headed towards the front door of the studio, he knew that none of the outfits he had prepared were going to be right. This was a problem he needed to solve and fast.

* * *

‘I love the brown but, have you got anything in green?’ the woman who was accompanying Gabriella and Phoebe asked.

Luca could see, having Gabriella here in this room with the mannequins, that his gaze had been off for one reason and one reason only. These clothes he had originally chosen were matched in terms of colouring and fit, apart from that one dress he should have hacked the neckline out of, but the key thing he hadn’t been adequately able to fully assess from their brief interchange in the restaurant yesterday was Gabriella’s energy. And not necessarily the vibe she was giving off as her awkwardness over this whole fashion scenario became evident, but the energy she was storing. He could sense it. There were contrasting elements at play, this woman here and one who had thrown a plastic bottle at someone’s head.