The Forbidden Touch of Sanguardo

A slightly satisfied smile played on Madeline’s vivid red lips.

‘How gratifying,’ she said, ‘that Rafael consoles himself with women who are the antithesis of me! Even if it does mean he has to sleep with a stick insect!’

Celeste could hear the purr in her contralto voice and said nothing. Madeline wandered around the office, glancing around, and then down at the sketches Celeste had been making. She turned back to her. Eyebrows raised.

‘My, my—multiple talents! Not just arm candy—or just good in bed, as I assume you must be, because Rafe...’ the purr was back again ‘...is so very demanding in that respect!’ She glanced again at the sketches. ‘Are you going to run with my idea of white dresses to show off all the different colours of the bags?’

‘It’s a good idea,’ agreed Celeste, because it was, and not giving credit where credit was due would be petty.

‘Oh, I’m full of good ideas!’ snapped Madeline.

She wants to get a rise out of me, thought Celeste. She’s come to check me out—scout out the opposition.

Well, maybe it was time to provide some opposition...

‘Not always,’ she said, keeping her voice neutral.

Madeline’s eyebrows arched interrogatively. ‘Do you mean running off with Lucien Fevre’s company but not him? Ancient history.’

Celeste shook her head. ‘No,’ she said pleasantly. ‘The idea you’ve got that Rafael is available to you again.’

For an instant she knew her comment had hit home. Then Madeline laughed. Rich and full and throaty.

‘Rafael is ancient history, too,’ she said dismissively. She quirked an eyebrow. ‘I thought models like you were always au fait with all the celebrity news? Haven’t you seen that I’m busy with a senator who’s tipped to be the running mate of the next presidential candidate? Mind you...’

Once again Madeline’s voice changed, taking on that purring note, but edged with something underneath—something that sent a chill down Celeste’s veins just like the one she’d felt when she’d realised last night just who the auburn-haired woman was.

‘Between you and me, the venerable senator is a little too...venerable. He might make me the Second Lady in the USA one day, but he is, to put it frankly, too...restrained...for my tastes.’

She tilted her head, eyeing Celeste.

‘So maybe, yes, it would be fun to have one last session with Rafael—something hot to remember while I’m enduring the missionary position for the millionth time! Not like Rafael,’ she said, never taking her eyes off Celeste. ‘As you must know by now, Rafael is so very, very...enthusiastic when it comes to bedtime!’

Her deep-set eyes flashed as she saw Celeste’s reaction to her blatant jibe.

‘My God, you’ve coloured up!’

In an instant, her expression had changed. That flash came again in her eyes, but now it was loaded with a venom that made Celeste’s already frozen face freeze more.

‘Well, well, well...’ said Madeline, biting out each word. ‘Now I know what your appeal is! It’s not just that he wanted a skinny whey-faced blonde who doesn’t remind him of me. He wanted a nun, too! Blushing because I said the wicked word “bedtime”!’

She moved towards her and suddenly, Celeste felt Madeline’s hand snake around her neck and stroke down the length of her loose hair.

‘Such beautiful hair you’ve got,’ she said, ‘like silk...’

Her voice was a caress. Her touch soft.

Yet Celeste felt her skin crawl.

She stepped back. An instinctive movement of recoil.

‘Whatever the purpose of your visit, Ms Walters,’ she said, forcing herself to a composure she was far from feeling, ‘you had better leave now.’