Page 44 of Wicked Duty
I could be conversing with someone’s random plus-one for this charity gala, or I could be engaging with a top industry executive whose vote could make or break my inclusion in the final rounds. I can’t afford to snub someone merely because Callum didn’t add them to his “safe” list.
This industry—and especially this competition—is a war zone.
And the crowd is beginning to get to me. My skin crawls from all the eyes tracking me and assessing my worth.
Cameras flashing before I’m ready, without my consent.
It reminds me a little too much of?—
Don’t go there, Lucy.
I signed up for this. I can’t quit. Quitting means letting the bad guys win.
When I spot Marco Benetti in my sightline, parting crowds like Moses parted the Red Sea, my mind clears. He talked to me during the audition rounds, and for some reason, he appears to be approaching me again.
The famous supermodel is just the distraction I need. Straightening my spine and adopting a bright, smiling expression, I greet him.
He kisses my knuckles through my opera gloves. “Ciao,bella.”
Wow.Marco just kissed my hand for the second time.
I bet only world-renowned celebrities can claim the same.
He stands a little inside my comfort zone, his lithe fingers skating over my arm. I urge my tense muscles to get over it. Most models I’ve met have zero regard for personal space, and the room’s crowded. It’s not his fault I’m jumpy tonight.
He launches into a conversation, and I attempt to listen. Really. But I spy another model as she rushes across the room, her face flushed and stained with tears.
A surge of protectiveness swells within me.
“Would you please excuse me, Marco? I’d love to chat later, though, if you have time?” I smile at him without waiting for a reply and hurry after the girl.
Even from a distance, I recognize her fear and naivety. She hasn’t been at it long enough to understand that the modeling world is merciless. The only reason I’m not more freaked out is because I’ve experienced some terrifying shit in my life.
I’ve almost caught up with her, pushing as politely as I can through the throng, when an impenetrable wall of muscle blocks my path.
“Tell me something.” Callum’s voice lowers to a growl. “Do you rememberanythingwe discussed about your safety at this event? You do recall that we’re staying at a hotel for a reason, right?”
Shit. I guess he’s noticed my less-than-stellar adherence to our plan.
“Yes, I remember why we’re staying at a hotel!”
Oops, that came out louder than intended. Marco slants me a curious glance before returning to a discussion with a beautiful fortysomething woman in a slinky red gown.
I offer him a weak smile and redirect my attention to Callum. “And I’m doing my best, I swear.” A lie, but whatever. “I needvotes to remain in this competition, and that means I’ve got to talk to people. Even if I don’t know them.”
“What good is being liked if you wind up dead?”
The only retort that springs to mind involves Marilyn Monroe, so I paraphrase her. “Being well-liked and dead aren’t mutually exclusive, you know.”
Callum cuts his eyes over my shoulder, glaring at someone. “Votes, is it?” His lip curls into a sneer. “From here, it looks more like you’re gunning for a ride on the casting couch.”
I turn to see who caught his attention—Marco Benetti, of course—while Callum’s words slam into me like a tower of tumbling bricks. As I scan the crowd for the upset model’s glossy head, I wonder why he didn’t just slap me instead. That would probably hurt less than the sucker punch to the gut his cruel, exacting insults deliver.
Foolishly, I’d bought into his guise of sincerity when he requested a truce. Sitting up late talking security strategy, I believed we’d created an alliance, and that his hurtful comments were a thing of the past.
Guess I was wrong.
Again.
