Phillips waited until they were alone, and then said, “I’m not usually wrong, but I admit I made a mistake with Bale. He was so irrational when it came to blaming you for the mess he was in, I actually thought he might be responsible for running you off the road.”
“What made you change your mind?” she asked.
“We discovered he had left Boston and driven out to visit his sister in Ohio. He just returned a couple of days ago. There’s nothing to link him to your crash.”
“That’s good to know. I guess you don’t need to send guards wherever I go now,” she said hopefully.
“I’m afraid that’s not going to change,” he said. “Bale wasn’t responsible, but someone was, and he’s still out there. Until we find him, you’ll have protection.”
She was just about to return to her station when Phillips surprised her by asking if she was still going to be modeling for a benefit at the Hamilton Saturday night.
“Yes,” she answered. “And it’s important, so please don’t drag me back in here.”
He promised not to bother her, and in the spirit of goodwill, since he’d been working her like a dog, he announced she could leave at noon today.
Two agents accompanied her to the spa and salon where Giovanni had booked appointments. She promised to text them when she was finished, but they refused to leave. After a long negotiation, she finally convinced them that two men standing watch might be a tad unsettling for the women patrons of the salon, and they reluctantly agreed to wait outside. She then spent three hours getting waxed and lotioned, pedicured and manicured, and an extra hour listening to her favorite hairdresser, a most unusual young lady named Penny, who had more piercings and tattoos than an entire biker gang. Penny caught Allison up on her exciting life. She always had at least three boyfriends—at the same time, of course—because otherwise, she explained, she would be bored. Penny believed her life was complicated, but compared to Allison’s, it was a walk in the park. Allison couldn’t tell anything about her own life, not that she wanted to, so she sat quietly and listened, letting Penny think she was one dull bookworm.
“I don’t get it,” Penny said. “With your body and your looks, you should have men falling all over you.”
Allison wanted to change the subject, but Penny wasn’t ready to talk about anything other than Allison’s miserable dating history. She gave her tips on how to attract a man while she trimmed her hair, and when she was done, she air-kissed Allison on both cheeks and sent her on her way. Penny didn’t notice the two men waiting in the parking lot.
The agents dropped Allison off at her apartment, and she decided to give herself some time to decompress. She was tired of worrying. She had spent far too much energy stressing over Bale and Will and Brett and Stiles and her aunt and uncle. She wasn’t going to worry about Liam, either, although that was easier said than done. She prided herself on not breaking down and crying, and once she was back in her living room she reached for her new laptop. There was only one problem. It was becoming more and more difficult to escape into her work. Liam kept getting in her way, and that infuriated her.
A day later Giovanni lifted her out of her pitiful mood. She couldn’t feel sorry for herself when she was with him. Even when he was barking orders, he was fun to be around. She loved him for a lot of reasons. He was kind and generous and honorable, and most of all she loved him because he really cared and watched out for her.
He was also quite a taskmaster. She was told to be in the suite at the Hamilton at exactly four o’clock, and she didn’t dare come late. Giovanni was fanatical about punctuality. Three designers were showing their work and donating substantial amounts to a children’s fund. Allison was one of five models for Giovanni.
The setup for the show had been carefully thought out. Each designer was assigned a section of a large ballroom with double doors that opened outside to a magnificent garden. The walkway had been built up a few feet above the audience and ran the length of the garden. There were rows of chairs on either side with cameras and lights positioned everywhere. Fortunately the weather was cooperating. It was going to be a beautiful, though somewhat humid, evening.
Giovanni had been alerted that Allison had arrived and rushed to greet her. Impeccably dressed in a dark suit, he looked more like a movie star than a designer. Tall and lean with an Adonis face and dark curly hair, he could have passed for thirty but was actually in his middle fifties. She kissed him on both cheeks and then hugged him.
He held both of her hands and looked deeply into her eyes. “How are you doing?” he asked.
“I’m good,” she assured him.
“Are those ghouls leaving you alone?”
“I’m ignoring them.”
“You’d tell me if there were any more problems, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, I would.”
“I love you like a daughter. You know that, don’t you?”
“I love you, too.”
He let go of her and began giving orders. Allison changed into a wrap, sat in one of the makeup chairs, and waited while everyone scurried around her in a controlled panic. A curtain separated the different designers who were showing previews of next summer’s collections, and Giovanni’s assistant, Peter, was making certain no one got a peek at his creations.
Giovanni had requested to be last. Allison was scheduled to model three different outfits. According to Giovanni, the showstopper was the evening gown she would wear for the finale.
The show went off without a hitch. After walking the runway twice, oblivious of the crowd and the flashing lights, Allison returned to get ready for her last appearance. She sat in the chair, her posture ramrod straight, as Giovanni’s team worked their magic and transformed her into what they declared was their greatest achievement, a compliment that didn’t hold much weight since they told her that very thing every time they got her ready for a show. Her eye makeup was a smoky gray, and her hair was down, swaying below her shoulders except for one strand that had been twisted into a thin braid and pinned into a crown on top of her head.
Once she was made up, Peter slipped the gown over her head. It was virginal white with a beaded low V-neck top. The beading cascaded down onto the gathered diaphanous silk skirt. When she walked, the fabric flowed as though she were a Greek goddess floating on air. Her curves made the gown all the more provocative with each step she took.
At last she was ready for Giovanni’s approval. He finally appeared from behind the curtain and gave her the once-over. He seemed to be taken aback by the sight of her, and then he nodded.
She stood near the double doors ready to make her entrance. Instead of blocking out the audience, this time she peeked around to look over the crowd. She was surprised by the number. Only those benefactors who had paid a steep price for a ticket were allowed to attend, but obviously crashers had gotten in somehow. They were five deep behind the last rows.
There was a subtle change in the lighting and the music. The pulsing sound was deeper, building anticipation. Allison stood still, waiting for the tap on her shoulder telling her to walk, her mind racing. She did try, but she couldn’t disappear now. Her mind went to Liam. Could he be there in the crowd? It was a crazy thought, yet nothing would have surprised her. He’d shown up on the street when Will confronted her. He had been there when her car crashed down the hill. He might even have been at her graduation. He seemed to show up at the oddest times.
At every show she’d ever done for Giovanni, his assistant would whisper something outrageous right before she started down the runway to help her relax. She thought he’d forgotten, but as it turned out, tonight was no exception.
“Remember the three rules, Allison. No tripping, no smiling, and no puking on the guests.”
She almost burst into laughter. No puking on guests? She wouldn’t be able to get that visual out of her mind anytime soon.
Peter stood behind her, and when the music reached a crescendo, he touched Allison’s shoulder. “Go,” he whispered.
She stepped around the corner. Her body went on autopilot, and she walked just the way she was supposed to, long-legged strides, head held high, devoid of any expression on her face. At the end of the runway, she assumed the pose for a second or two, then pivoted and headed back. Thunderous applause followed her.