AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She tugged on her hand, aware the stranger had been holding on to it for much too long, and stepped around him, focusing on steadying the rhythm of her breathing as she headed for the salon’s lounge area. If she didn’t have to concentrate on standing up, maybe she could think more clearly. She indicated an armchair while she glanced over to the door, willing someone, anyone, to enter the store. ‘Please,’ she said over her shoulder, ‘tell me how I can help you.’
He watched her panicked retreat and her longing glance at the passing pedestrians with some entertainment. He’d been right to wait until now to make his move. It was late and unlikely anyone else would visit the salon and interrupt them. Unlikely anyone would come to her rescue.
She turned and looked at him, the questions laid bare in her large blue eyes. He could see her vulnerability and how she was fighting it. He could feel her suspicion, warring with curiosity.
He could taste her fear.
She was much more interesting than he’d been led to believe. And more beautiful. Even with tell-tale smudges of tiredness around her eyes, they shone with life and promise in features arranged perfectly on her face. Her dark-gold hair was swept up into a sleek curve that exposed the smooth sweep of her neck.
The face of a model and the body of a goddess. Paolo couldn’t have chosen better.
She would do perfectly.
‘What can I do for you, Signor Khaled?’ she asked as he curved his length into the plush Venetian-style chair opposite her own. ‘Are you looking for something for a special woman?’
He smiled, more to himself than outwardly. ‘You could say that. Your designs are the talk of Milan. Your show was an outstanding success. For a foreigner you have done remarkably well in breaking into such a competitive market.’
‘I’ve been very lucky.’
‘You are very talented,’ he said. ‘Otherwise you would not be where you are.’
‘Thank you,’ she said quietly, her cheeks surprisingly tinged with pink, almost as if she was unused to compliments. ‘Was there something in the collection that particularly interested you?’
‘It is all of interest. But that’s not why I’m here. I want you to make a dress.’
He saw the interest flare in her eyes. ‘Certainly. That’s not a problem. I do commission work for many of my clients.’
He could see by her body language that she was finally relaxing as they spoke, back in the familiar territory of what she did best. Her shoulders looked less rigid and, by the steady rise and fall of her chest, her breathing appeared more under control. She assumed he was just one more customer. This would be almost too easy.
‘This will be no ordinary dress,’ he continued. ‘I am to be married in four weeks. I want you to design and construct a wedding gown for my wife-to-be.’
A wedding dress. She loved all of her design work but always the greatest satisfaction, the greatest thrill, came in designing wedding gowns, a woman’s most important dress for her most important day. A dress that complemented, that accentuated while it minimised and made the most of the bride as it transformed her into a princess; Sapphy loved nothing more than to make it happen. But he was cutting it fine.
‘A wedding gown in just four weeks? Usually we would recommend at least three times that for something so special.’
‘With your talent, I should not think that will be a problem.’
Her pulse raced at the opportunity he was offering while her mind was busy negotiating the difficulties that still stood in the way of accepting the job. ‘Thank you. You pay me a huge compliment by even offering me this commission. However, as much as I am tempted, I do have other responsibilities and other clients I must consider before I can accept.’
He pushed himself from the chair and loomed over her. ‘But you have just shown your latest collection. That is completed. You will design this dress.’
She felt her eyes widen, taken aback as much at his physical presence before her as his bold statement. Until now he’d given the impression he specifically wanted her to design the wedding gown. Could it be that other designers had already turned down the commission? Maybe desperation was forcing his hand and he’d run out of options.
Besides, as tempted as she was to take on any wedding-gown design project, she would be mad to promise something she could not deliver. Especially just because it was demanded of her. ‘I’m still not a free agent. I do have my own line now, it’s true, but I still work within the House of Bacelli.’
‘I have already spoken with Gianfranco Bacelli. He will release you.’
‘I see.’ But she didn’t see. She bit down on her lip as she considered his revelation. This was no ordinary commission, not if it had already been squared away with the ageing designer who headed the Bacelli house. Whoever this Khaled was, he was a man of influence. And he obviously expected her to fall in with his plans.
