From Dirt to Diamonds

‘Like I say, shame to mark beautiful girls. But …’ He sighed. ‘Sometimes they just don’t learn. Like your friend Katya. She didn’t want to put out for the punters. Now she couldn’t sell herself to a blind man!’ He laughed, a sound as sick as the words he’d just said, gunned the engine, and roared off down the road.

Somehow Kat made it back to her bedsit, shaking like a leaf. With fumbling hands she found her mobile. When Katya answered she sounded distraught.

‘I’m sorry,’ she kept saying. ‘I’m sorry. He was already threatening me when I got you in for your portfolio shots. He’s been after you since then. Kat, do what he wants! Whatever he wants! Photos, money, men—just do it! Don’t say no to him, Kat! Don’t say no!’ Kat could hear, through her own terror, Katya’s.

‘Oh, God,’ she whispered. ‘What did he do?’

There was a silence. Then, ‘He cut my breasts. He cut them and cut them. All over.’

CHAP

TER FOUR

KAT was calm—very calm. It was her only option. Otherwise she would break down into hysteria. She knew what she had to do. The police would be useless. Unless they gave her round-the-clock protection, Mike would always find her. Would always be trailing her. Stalking her. Threatening her. She would have to buy him off the way he wanted—buy herself time until, with the money from the Monte Carlo shoot, she could hire her own protection and work to get Mike caught for attacking Katya and threatening herself. Once she’d got a signed contract surely she could raise cash on the expectation? Enough to keep Mike at bay for now?

She headed for the agency.

Anita was at her desk. She was looking pleased with herself. ‘Oh, there you are, sweetie. I’ve been trying to reach you. About the Monte Carlo shoot.’ She smiled sweetly. ‘They don’t want you after all.’

Kat heard the words. But they didn’t make sense. ‘What do you mean?’ Her voice was hollow.

‘I mean they don’t want you any more.’ Anita’s lip curled. ‘Well, they did specify “classy”, and that’s hardly you, is it?’

‘But I’ve got to have that job,’ Kat heard herself say. From very, very far away.

Anita laughed—a tinkling sound. ‘Too bad,’ she purred.

Too bad—the words echoed in Kat’s head as her feet took her out of the agency, took her along the busy London pavement. She could feel fear start to crawl over her skin, memory bringing back the sick glitter in Mike’s eyes, the sicker glint of his knife-blade—the same blade that had cut Katya’s breasts …

I’ve got to have that job. It’s the only way to get Mike off me. I’ve got to get it back.

As she walked, thoughts—hectic, panicked—crowded into her brain. Dismay washed through her. Cold, like icy water. Angelos Petrakos had turned her down after all—and she knew why. Like a stone in her guts, she knew exactly why.

It’s my own fault! He warned me, but I still couldn’t keep my mouth shut. That’s why he’s pulled me from the shoot! That’s why! But I don’t understand. Why did they say I was on it yesterday and then pull me? How come one minute I’m on, the next I’m off! How could he change his mind like that? I don’t get it—I just don’t get it!

Confusion, dismay, and sick, gutting fear writhed within her. In her mind she saw Mike’s knife glint in the light, heard Katya’s terrified warning. Desperation scythed through her. She could do a runner—head out of London. But that would be to run from everything she’d achieved so far, to start all over again. And where? London was where the big modelling contracts were. Like the one she’d just lost.

I’ve got to get it back! I’ve got to try, at least! If I go to him—beg, crawl—maybe he’ll change his mind back again. I’ll be as meek and docile as he wants! Whatever it takes!

It was all she could do, and she knew it. Rage, fury, anger—all were useless now. Useless! Fear churned in her stomach. She had to batten it down. Keep it under control. Tight, tight control.

She went to the hotel first. It was the only place she knew to go. She walked up to the swanky receptionist and asked for him. The woman looked at her coolly.

‘Mr Petrakos is not in his suite,’ she told her. ‘Try his office.’

‘But I don’t know—’

Kat stopped, and walked away. She found a library. Looked up ‘Petrakos Marine’, and the name of the boat company. It was all she could remember. She tracked down a London office for Petrakos International U.K. Phoned the number. Got passed around. Then, finally, ‘Mr Petrakos is in Dublin today. He’ll be back tonight and in the office tomorrow.’

Relief washed through her. For all she’d known Angelos Petrakos could be back in Greece now—or on the other side of the world. But he was coming back to London. He hadn’t checked out of his suite. He’d be there tonight.

And so would she.

To prostrate herself before the almighty Angelos Petrakos and beg him to hire her after all.

Angelos rolled his shoulders and massaged the nape of his neck. His jacket was draped over the back of a chair, his tie likewise. It had been a long day. But tomorrow he’d set an easier pace—with a highly enjoyable evening to look forward to.

Courtesy of Kat Jones.