She lifted her face sharply. ‘How do you know that?’
He gave a half laugh. ‘I could say that your face is your giveaway,’ he said lightly, ‘but I have to confess that, since fashion magazines are not my usual reading matter, I found it out from your agency.’
Her face worked. ‘Why were you asking?’ she demanded. But there was no need to ask. She knew. Rafael Sanguardo had shown his interest in her—she had been naive to think that just because she had walked away from him the other evening it would not be possible for a man of his means to find out a great deal about her!
His expression was deliberately transparent. ‘I make no secret of the fact that I want to get to know you better, Celeste.’
It was strange to hear her name on his lips—a name she hadn’t told him. She would have preferred him never to know, so that she could slip back into the shadows of life where she dwelt. But it was too late for that. All she could do now was hold him at bay, make it clear to him that whatever he was hoping for could not be.
‘So why did you have to be in Reiner’s unpalatable company?’ Rafael pursued.
She made herself give a slight shrug. ‘I’m still under contract, so it’s unavoidable. Tonight he was a guest of one of the fashion magazines he places a great deal of advertising with—that was his excuse for me having to be here.’
‘Excuse?’
She gave another shrug, not meeting his eyes, focussing only on the cup in front of her. ‘You heard what he wants. He made it plain enough.’ A sudden thought struck her, and without realising it she lifted her face to look at him.
‘What you did—back there—will he make trouble for you?’ There was concern in her voice. ‘He could do you for assault—’
‘He can try,’ said Rafael.
And there was something about the way he said it that made Celeste realise that Karl—or anyone—would be very, very foolish to attempt to make trouble for Rafael Sanguardo. There was a toughness about him that was unmistakable.
But there was chivalry, too, she acknowledged. Even if his intervention had proved opportune for him, allowing him to do what he was doing now. Getting to know her—
But it’s no use—no use at all. Nothing can come of it—nothing!
That was all she had to remember. And she should act on it right now. She should get to her feet, thank him once again and then go home—home to her little flat in Notting Hill: the fruit of her years of modelling, her quiet haven, where she could be apart from the hectic round of her career. Apart and alone.
The way she had to be.
Because nothing else was possible...would ever be possible...
She was condemned to the solitary life she led.
But Rafael Sanguardo was speaking again, interrupting her troubled thoughts. ‘What about for you?’ he was asking, that note of concern still evident in his deep, accented voice. ‘Will it make things difficult?’
She gave another shrug. ‘I’ve only got a few weeks left to run on my contract, and there’s little he can do in real terms. I most definitely will not be resigning! Oh, there’ll probably be some gossip—I dare say some of the people I work with will hear about it. But he has a reputation already, so it will hardly be a surprise.’
Rafael frowned. ‘If you had warning of his reputation, why did you take the contract?’
She gave yet another shrug. ‘He was involved with one of the other models under contract, so I thought he would leave me alone—which he did, by and large, until now. And the reason I wanted the contract in the first place was simple.’ She looked straight at him, giving him the courtesy of an honest answer, for surely he deserved no less after his rescue of her. ‘It paid well,’ she said.