Page 75 of When Fashion Turns Deadly

One foot in front of the other, she repeated in her mind. She stepped past the white gauzy curtains and got her first look at the audience. Chairs lined either side of what was basically a wide hallway, with more chairs at the end of the space designated as the runway.

Isabelle strode forward, her chin up until she reached the spot where she was supposed to pause. She struck a pose the way Marit had taught her, pivoted once to allow the audience to see her from the other side, and then again to turn back. Placing each step deliberately, she continued up the runway to where she had started. The moment she passed by the curtains, a sigh of relief escaped her.

Marit, who was currently five spots back, grinned at her. “Congrats. You’re now a runway model.”

Isabelle simply shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “But thank you for making it possible for me to pretend.”

Ellie rushed forward and tugged at Isabelle’s arm. “Hurry up. You need to change.”

Isabelle simply nodded. “I’m coming.”

***

As far as Marit was concerned, Paris was at its finest at night. The full moon shining down on the Seine, the lights, the romantic music spilling out from the cafés and restaurants, and the people strolling along the pavement, soaking up the ambiance of the city. If it weren’t for the fact that muggers and pickpockets also thrived in this environment, it would be practically perfect.

She shifted a little closer to Lars, and the arm he’d placed around her waist tightened. Tonight would be different. After Camille Allard’s show had ended, they’d stopped at the flat long enough for her and Isabelle to drop off their purses and change into comfortable shoes and had then gone to the restaurant Cole had booked for them. Without her purse, she was no longer a target. At least, she hoped not.

Cole and Isabelle were walking hand in hand a couple of meters ahead of her and Lars. They stopped at the corner of the street, waiting to cross.

“I think we should celebrate Isabelle’s success like this after every show,” Lars said as they came up behind them.

Cole looked over his shoulder and grinned. “The bœuf bourguignon, the profiteroles, or the walk along the Seine?”

“All of it,” Lars said.

“How about we do all those things without me having to work any more shows?” Isabelle suggested hopefully.

Marit shook her head. “I hate to break it to you and your tired feet, Isabelle, but you’re a natural. I’m not kidding. Very few women could pull off what you did today, and you did it with only a few minutes’ instruction.”

“You both did a great job placing the hidden cameras backstage too.” Cole took his phone out of his pocket and pulled up a couple of images. Now that the show was over and the overhead lights were off, the area where the models left their personal belongings was in shadow. The security lights were just strong enough to outline the empty white cubbies and a meter or so of the floor around them.

“Even though no one went after the purse today, it’s probably a good thing we set the cameras up when we did,” Marit said. “Tomorrow’s going to be a whole lot crazier backstage. Valentino’s show will bring in a lot of big names and a huge number of models. They’ll barely have time to clear out Valentino’s crew before Li Du and his people need to set up.”

The traffic signals changed, and they crossed the road together. Weaving around the trees lining the pavement, they continued walking toward the closest bridge.

“I’m glad we’re not working Valentino’s show,” Isabelle said. “Apart from the stress, I’m not sure that my feet would survive two shows back-to-back like that.”

“They’re going to have to,” Marit said. “The day after tomorrow, we have Peter Wade in the morning and Kyle Adams in the evening.”

Isabelle groaned. “I knew that. How could I have forgotten?”

“For a model at Fashion Week, taking one day at a time is a matter of self-preservation,” Marit said.

“Is Henri LaRue’s show in the morning or evening?” Lars asked.

“His show’s in the evening, three days after Wade’s and Adams’s,” Marit said. “And two days after that is Molenaar.”

“LaRue caught a lucky break, being placed ahead of Molenaar in the lineup,” Cole said.

“He did,” Marit said. “Even though most designers hope for the last spots so that their designs are the ones fresh on people’s minds when everyone leaves.”

“They each aspire to end Fashion Week with a bang,” Lars said.

Cole grimaced. “Pretty sure there’s going to be a bang this time round. I just don’t know how big it will be.”

Chapter 25

Cole stood near the curtainwhere the models would come out once the next show began. Beside him, Lars held up his camera as the crowd from the Valentino show dispersed, his current focus an older woman wearing a ridiculous feathered hat.

---