Page 100 of Wicked Duty
The difference between the Callum yesterday and the Callum today is stark and unsettling.
The uneasiness tipping through my system grows. Despite the intimacy we shared last night, he’s never felt so far away.
Chapter 38
Lucy
I’m worried I might start crying and mess up my makeup, so the instant Heather Kincaid crosses my field of vision, I intercept her. She’s lasted this long in the competition even after the charity-ball meltdown.
Her friendly pale blue eyes and blond curls stand out in any room. A bubbly smile lifts her face as soon as she spots me.
She loops her arm through mine, a soft titter in her voice. “Marco’s here again.”
I’m a fan of Marco—who isn’t?—but Heather’s asuperfan. If the man is in the room, her attention fixates on him, almost to the detriment of everything else.
At one time, I might’ve acted the same. But things have changed.
My focus resides on an entirely different man.
I try to give Heather and the conversation my full attention. “It’s technically not even a competition day.”
“You don’t think he’s one of the judges for the final round, do you?” Heather adjusts us so we’ll both have a view of Marco chatting with one of the set directors on the far side of the room.
“He could be.” I shrug. “There’s no way to know, though, since all the final round judges are going to be kept confidential until the night of.”
Honestly, final judging is the last thing on my mind.
Earlier this summer, Runway Revolution was a dream among dreams.
Now that this experience is almost over, I don’t know how to feel. When I reflect back on this competition, what I’ll probably remember most will be the time I spent with the man who’s gone missing. The one currently avoiding me and gallivanting off who knows where to conduct secret business.
Heather gasps while squeezing the lifeout of my wrist. “Lucy, he’s coming over here. What do I do?”
I wince. “Smile.”
“Ladies.” Marco hits us with that million-dollar grin. His pretty face doesn’t do much for me, but Heather all but swoons right into his arms. “I hope you’re enjoying yourselves.”
Breathless and practically bouncing on her heels, Heather folds her hands together in front of her chest. “Everything’s been so wonderful.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” Marco angles toward me. “And what about for you, Lucy?”
My name in his thick accent sounds strange.
I struggle to respond, my blank mind utterly empty of something clever or witty or even normal to say. Thoughts of Callum have completely overshadowed anything useful from my brain.
How can I let that man do this to me?
I’m struggling to not look like an airhead in front of this rich and famous model when the lights overhead begin to flicker.
Heather shifts closer to me. “What’s going on?”
Murmurs kick up. Staff faces begin to pinch as the flickering continues.
“I don’t know, but someone better get to the bottom of it.” Marco waves down a nearby assistant.
Uncertainty soon invades the room. No one’s sure if the lighting malfunction is specific to the ballroom or to the hotel, whether it’s a power issue or a circuitry malfunction. But within half an hour, the competition runners send all the models home for the day.
Ryan finds me in the small crowd immediately. “Shall I call Mr. Kavanagh, ma’am?”
