Fierce Passion (Bullfighter's Daughter 3) - Page 103

“You’re more curious than sympathetic,” Maggie chided.

Libby’s blue eyes shone with mischief. “True, but what harm could it do to stay in touch?”

Maggie gestured in the air. “Connect the dots. Carlotta is Ana’s mother-in-law, or stepmother-in-law, and that’s coming much too close to trouble.”

“I suppose,” Libby agreed, but she still wondered aloud. “We spoke to Ana after the accident, so we could call and ask how she is.”

“Give it up, Libby.”

Libby dropped the subject, but just because Maggie wouldn’t call Ana didn’t mean she couldn’t do it on her own.

Lamoreaux sent his limousine for Ana. This was the first time she’d gotten a good look at his chauffeur. She’d recalled a larger man from the security videos, but this fellow was short and as lean as a jockey. “Have you been working for Mr. Lamoreaux long?” she asked.

“Awhile,” he answered and remained focused on his driving.

She understood he was paid to drive rather than to keep her company, but something about him struck her as off. She made no further attempts at conversation and gazed out at the city as they drove through Old Town to Lamoreaux’s apartment. It was located on the third floor of a beautifully restored building and had a spectacular view of the colorfully landscaped Parc de la Ciutadella. Ana loved coming to the park, and being so close lifted her spirits more than the prospect of modeling for the shoe designer could. He welcomed her into his home with a glass of champagne, but she took only a pretend sip and set it aside.

“I never drink when I’m working,” she told him, unwilling to reveal her pregnancy. “What a beautiful place this is.”

Lucien gazed up at the high ceiling circled with decorative gold molding. “I love nineteenth-century architecture. This building has been fully remodeled and well-maintained. What do you think of the color scheme?”

The entry and living room’s soft greens and gold lured her in. “It’s lovely.”

The photographer had set up lights in the middle of the living room and came forward to meet her. “Miss Santillan, this is a great pleasure. I’m Pierre Duvernay. I wonder if we could do some shots with you standing partially hidden by a door. It would be a way to show you wearing one shoe.” He pointed to a rack of long and short gowns, all black. “We have clothes for you.”

“Is there someone doing hair and makeup?” she asked.

“Yes,” Pierre assured her. “My wife, Nanette, is setting up her cosmetics in the master bedroom.”

“I’ll show you the way,” Lucien offered. “I hope you’ll not be on crutches too much longer.”

“So do I.” Ana feared he’d lurk while Nanette worked, but he left her at the bedroom door. Decorated in dark blue and tan, the spacious room faced the park, but what immediately caught her eye were three stunning Robert Mapplethorpe floral photos. Her stomach dropped, but she licked her lips and made her way to the chair Nanette had placed in front of a full-length mirror.

“Whether I wear my hair up or down, you can use curls to cover my scar,” Ana suggested. “What are your thoughts?”

“The scar won’t even be noticeable under your makeup, and your long hair is so pretty, let’s try several hairstyles. I’m very quick, so you won’t spend the whole morning seated here.”

“Fine,” Ana agreed with forced calm. The striking photographs were visible in the mirror. She couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling they told more abo

ut Lamoreaux than a decorator’s whim. Her agent knew where she was, but suddenly he wasn’t enough.

She pulled her cell phone from her purse. “I need to make a quick call before we begin. Will you excuse me?”

“Yes, of course.”

When Nanette stepped out of the room, she called Alejandro. “I don’t want to bother you, but I’m working this morning at Lucien Lamoreaux’s apartment overlooking Parc de la Ciutadella.” She supplied the address. “Will you please make a note of it? I’ll talk to you when I’m finished.”

“Is something wrong? Should I call the police?”

“Not yet, but I want you to know where I am should anyone be looking for me.”

“Ana, are you just being mysterious, or are you in real trouble?”

“Too soon to say. I’ll talk with you later.”

Nanette returned, carrying a long black jersey gown. “This has a side slit and would be good to show off your leg and Lucien’s shoes.”

Ana entered the master bath, which was a masterpiece of cream-and-gold marble, to change from her long skirt and top. The gown had a high neck and long sleeves and looked perfect to her.

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