Page 21 of When Fashion Turns Deadly

“What?” Isabelle asked. “Do you have someone in mind?”

“Oh yeah.” Cole nodded. “What do you think, Lars?”

“I’ve always said Isabelle could pass for a model.”

“Me?” Isabelle shook her head. “I’ve never modeled. And I haven’t been backstage at a fashion show since I was a teenager.”

“You’re infinitely more qualified than either of us.” Cole wiggled his thumb, indicating himself and Lars.

“I don’t want Isabelle to be in danger because of me,” Marit said.

“I’m not thrilled about the idea myself,” Cole said, as though he didn’t know she had the same basic CIA training that he did. “But we all know she has great self-defense skills, and she can handle a gun.”

Marit lowered her voice to a whisper. “I doubt Isabelle brought a gun.”

“No, but I have a spare,” Cole said.

Despite Cole’s declaration, doubt colored Marit’s expression. “Look, I know it seems like all I do is walk up and down a runway, but it’s way more involved than that.”

“She’s right.” Isabelle nodded vehemently. Just the thought of stepping out in front of hundreds of people made her stomach turn. “Women work for years to get a shot at modeling in Paris, especially during Fashion Week.”

“You can do this,” Cole insisted. His gaze fixed on hers, and Isabelle didn’t miss the plea reflected there. “Especially if Marit is willing to help you.”

“We don’t have enough time for Marit to help me,” Isabelle insisted. There had to be another option.

“That’s true,” Marit said. “Casting has already started.”

“It’s worth a try.” Lars took Marit’s hand. “Isabelle is a natural athlete. We’ve seen her fight. With your help, I bet she can do it. And we don’t have any better options.”

Marit seemed to consider the possibilities. “Esmee won’t go for me staying somewhere else. We already tried that.” She sighed. “It seems crazy, but maybe Cole and Lars are right.”

“Maybe they’re not,” Isabelle said. “I don’t know the first thing about how to prep for a casting call.”

“But I do,” Marit said. “And I think I know how to make it possible for you to stay at the flat with me too.”

“How?” Isabelle asked.

Marit pulled out her phone. “Give me two minutes, and keep your fingers crossed.”

The waitress returned with their food.

As soon as she left them, Marit dialed. “Esmee? Remember when I did you that favor last Christmas and worked during my holiday?” She paused briefly. “Now it’s my turn to ask a favor.” Marit focused on Isabelle. “I need you to put a friend of mine on the list for the rest of the casting calls I’m going to.” She paused, and the indistinct buzz of a woman’s voice carried over the phone. Marit tensed. “You’ve seen her photo already. She’s the one who was with me at Schönbrunn Palace in Vienna last fall. She was wearing the blue silk Monique Marin with the lace overlay.”

Now a little smile flitted over her lips. “Yes, that’s her. Auburn hair. Gorgeous green eyes.”

Isabelle’s jaw dropped as the full force of Cole and Lars’s plan hit her. They were all nuts! She wasn’t a model.

Another pause, and more buzzing coming through the line. Sincerity filled Marit’s voice when she spoke again. “I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.”

A flash of victory crossed Marit’s features. “Thank you so much. Her name is Isabelle Rogers.” Another pause. “Perfect.” Marit’s mouth curved into a grin. “Oh, and one more thing. Isabelle is going to be rooming with me.”

Marit paused again, the woman’s voice coming in a steady hum now.

Finally, Marit nodded. “Thanks, Esmee.” She hung up. “We’d better eat. Isabelle and I have a casting call at noon.”

“Oh, no.” Isabelle shook her head. “Pointing a gun at someone is one thing. Stepping onto a runway is way beyond me.”

Marit reached across the table and put her hand on Isabelle’s. “I meant what I said earlier. It won’t take me long to teach you the basics, and with how fast you pick things up, that’s probably all you need.”

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