Page 38 of Meet Me at Sunset

At the S’Estaca estate, perched high above the sea on a rocky cliffside, Stephanie Moon was preparing for the show.

She was dressed in vintage Camille Andre, which Camille had arranged to be couriered over especially from the archives in Paris.

It was the flowing white tuxedo suit, which a teenage Stephanie had seen Kate Moss wearing on the runway, and she’d confided in Camille how much she’d adored it.

It fitted her like a glove and, as Stephanie stared at her reflection, her copper hair pulled back in a sleek low ponytail so it didn’t detract from the outfit, she couldn’t believe how incredible she felt to be wearing something so iconic.

Stephanie was beyond grateful to Camille for such a wonderful gesture, and was eager to thank her in person.

She wanted to support Catherine too, who was the star attraction at today’s show.

Having been named as the face of the brand, she would also be walking the runway, and the two of them would head over to the palacio together just as soon as their driver arrived.

More than anything, Stephanie couldn’t deny that she was looking forward to seeing Lucas.

She was hoping that after the show they could pick up where they’d left off yesterday, before he’d had to run off to open the restaurant.

The chemistry between them was electric.

He was gorgeous and charming, and Stephanie was incredibly attracted to him; she was pretty sure the feeling was mutual.

And now that Elle was out of the picture, there was nothing to stand in their way.

Lucas had been so supportive these past few days; he hadn’t judged her, or patronized her, when she’d revealed her turbulent background and the childhood insecurities that had led her to almost sabotage her career.

Instead, he’d listened and seemed to understand – his upbringing as a spoiled only child had been very different from hers, but he too had suffered more than his fair share of trauma and knew what it was like to feel unwanted by your family.

With both his and Catherine’s support, Stephanie had blossomed over the past couple of weeks.

She was almost ready to go back to work, though she knew she would have a lot of apologizing to do, and would have to go above and beyond to get her career back on track.

Just as soon as this show was done, she’d bite the bullet and call Victoria, her agent, to put the wheels in motion for her return.

Though the worst part about returning to the UK would be leaving Lucas behind …

She broke off from applying a final coat of mascara as her phone began to ring, Lucas’s name showing on the caller display.

‘Hey,’ she grinned as she picked it up, her smile evident in her voice. ‘I was just thinking about you.’

‘Oh really? What were you thinking?’

‘I’ll show you later,’ she teased. ‘I hope you had a good night at the restaurant, and it was worth running out on me like that …’

‘What? Oh, not exactly …’

‘Is everything OK? You sound distracted.’

‘Yeah, you could say that. There’s a lot going on.’

‘I can imagine. Are you at the venue yet?’

‘No, not yet. I have some other things to take care of first.’

‘Anything I can help with?’ Stephanie zipped up her make-up bag and sat down on the stool at the vanity table, looking out of the window at the terraced gardens stretching down to the dazzling blue of the Balearic Sea, the colour deepening as it approached the horizon.

Boats bobbed up and down on the white-tipped waves, as the sun reflected off the water like diamonds. ‘You do sound really stressed.’

Lucas hesitated. ‘You’re definitely coming to the show, right?’

‘Of course. I want to support Catherine, and your mother. They’ve both been so good to me – Camille’s sent me the most gorgeous outfit; I can’t wait for you to see it.’

But Lucas didn’t acknowledge her words. ‘Stephanie, there’s something I have to tell you and I don’t want you to change your mind about coming. But you need to know before you get there – it’s not fair for you to walk in unprepared.’

Stephanie frowned. Lucas sounded serious. ‘You’re worrying me. What is it? Have you changed your mind about us?’

‘No, of course not, but …’ He took a deep breath. ‘I spoke to Elle this morning.’

‘OK,’ Stephanie said, trying to keep her tone neutral. She told herself that there was nothing to be jealous of – they had recently ended a long-term relationship and the split was still raw, of course they would speak from time to time.

‘She … she’s pregnant.’

Stephanie almost dropped the phone in shock. ‘Oh my God! But what … what does this mean for us, Lucas? What are you going to do?’

There was a long pause and Stephanie’s stomach tightened with anxiety, ‘What do you want to do?’

When Lucas spoke, she could hear the uncertainty in his voice ‘I don’t know yet. I need to figure it out. But if she’s pregnant with my child then … I can’t just abandon her.’

‘Of course not, but …’ Stephanie trailed off.

This was too much to take in right now. Her world had been turned upside down in an instant.

A few moments ago, she been hopeful and excited for the future, with barely a care in the world.

Now, the man she’d hoped might play a part in that bright future was having a baby with his ex-girlfriend.

It felt messy and problematic, an added complication that Stephanie didn’t need right now.

‘Look,’ she began. ‘Maybe … this isn’t the right time for us. You need to sort things out with Elle, take some space, decide what you want to do … I need to go back to England anyway, see if I can rescue what remains of my career.’ She laughed humourlessly.

‘Stephanie, I don’t want it to end like this. Hell, I don’t want it to end, full stop.’

‘Neither do I, Lucas. But what choice do we have?’

They fell silent, knowing there was no easy solution, but neither wanting to say the words and make it final.

‘I’ll see you at the show, OK? We can talk …’

‘Lucas, I’m not sure what’s left to say …’ Stephanie’s voice was quiet, and she bit back the tears that threatened to fall. ‘Goodbye.’

She heard him swallow, his throat thick with emotion. ‘Please, Stephanie …’ But she didn’t wait to hear the rest.

Isobel was in shock. She had fled from her room, and she’d meant it when she’d told Stuart that she never wanted to see him again.

He’d better have packed his things – including that trashy thong – and got the hell out of there by the time she got back, or she wouldn’t be responsible for her actions …

Then again, it sounded as if he’d be glad to be gone, and Isobel had given him an easy way out. He was probably on his way to the airport already, to fly out to his lover …

He’d said he loved this woman, Isobel recalled in disbelief. Valeria Perez, the Goddess from Girona, with Stuart ? Isobel let out an incredulous laugh as she walked quickly along the corridors of the palacio, wanting to put as much distance as possible between her and Stuart.

He would want a divorce, obviously, and although Isobel could take him to the cleaners, she didn’t want a penny of his money right now. She was devastated that the future she had planned had been snatched away from her, that the baby she had longed for was now little more than a distant dream.

Tears sprang to her eyes and she blinked them away. She could break down later, but right now she had to be strong. Nothing was going to stop her from going to the Camille Andre show. That had been the whole point of coming to Mallorca, and to the palacio – not that Stuart had known that.

Isobel stepped into the lift and checked her appearance in the mirror.

She still looked immaculate, only the merest hint of red around her pupils indicating that she’d been upset.

Her thick blonde hair was swept up elegantly, and delicate diamond earrings dangled from her earlobes, following every slight movement of her head.

Isobel lifted her chin and smoothed down her jumpsuit as though she was putting on armour.

The lift door opened onto a lobby filled with people, chatter and laughter, as famous faces greeted one another, waving across the space and air-kissing ostentatiously.

Isobel looked around for Stephanie but couldn’t see her, so she headed towards the Sunset Room and joined the queue which was beginning to form.

It moved quickly, and as Isobel reached the front, she gave her name to the security guard who checked his list. He was wearing dark glasses, so she couldn’t see his eyes, and he had a radio in one hand and a thin wire snaked round his head attached to an earpiece. He found her name and paused.

‘Isobel MacFarlane? This way.’

‘Thank you.’ Isobel gave him a broad smile and fell into step behind him.

She was so distracted by thoughts of Stuart that she failed to notice no one else was getting a personal accompaniment to their seat.

She’d experienced a pang of sadness as she’d given her name to the security guard, wondering if she should revert back to her maiden name.

She’d built up her boutique and was known in the business as MacFarlane, but she no longer wanted to be associated with Stuart …

It was only when the security guard opened the door to a banqueting room, that alarm bells began ringing.

‘Where are we—?’

‘Could you wait in here for a moment, please?’

‘But why? What’s happening?’

‘Someone will be along shortly to explain everything. But I’ve been asked if you’ll wait here for now.’

Isobel frowned, uncertainty flashing through her mind.

Surely Camille couldn’t have discovered …

Either way, it seemed she had no choice but to comply.

The security guard was tall and wide, his shoulders almost the width of her arm span.

Isobel wondered what he’d do if she resisted.

Slowly, obediently, she sat down on one of the banquet chairs, looking up at him questioningly.

‘Thank you,’ the man said curtly. It was only when he left the room and locked the door that Isobel started to panic.

‘Francesca, darling, thank you so much for coming.’ Camille air-kissed the journalist from Elle Espana magazine, one of the select few who’d been invited backstage to capture the atmosphere.

‘Now, are we looking after you? René, take Francesca and make sure she has everything she needs. I’ll catch up with you later, darling, it’s nonstop here. Now, has anyone heard from Katerina?’

Backstage was a hive of activity, as everyone raced around frantically and Camille did her best to remain cool and calm, like the eye in the centre of the hurricane.

She had coordinated dozens of these shows over the years, but they were always challenging, with problems arising that no one could have anticipated and everyone working flat out right up until the last second.

In the main room outside, the invited guests and the press pack were gathering, the hum of conversation and anticipation filtering backstage over the incessant beat of the music. René turned back to her, holding out his phone, pulling a face.

‘Katerina’s sick. She can’t make it.’

‘Why the hell didn’t anyone tell us before?’ Camille fumed, striding over to the rails where Katerina’s opening outfit was still hanging, unclaimed.

‘She was sleeping.’ René rolled his eyes. ‘She’d been up half the night with a bad stomach. Her agent’s furious. They’ve been trying to get hold of her for the last two hours.’

‘Tell them to send a replacement.’

‘There’s no one on the island. Half of their roster seems to be in Ibiza right now, but they wouldn’t get here in time.’

‘Make a note never to use that girl again,’ Camille ordered.

‘I understand that people get sick, but you don’t wait until fifteen minutes before a show to tell someone.

Merde ,’ she swore. ‘Get me the schedule. Is there anyone spare? Perhaps we can change the running order so the girls get more time and fit in the extra looks? I don’t see how else we can do it … ’

She snatched René’s clipboard from him, eyeing the schedule critically. Around them, the backstage area was crammed with models, clothes, make-up artists, hairdressers and reporters, everyone wanting something from her.

‘Camille, more flowers have arrived. Where do you want them?’

‘Alejandro Simón from El País wants to interview you after the show. Can you give him five minutes?’

‘Camille, how is this belt supposed to be styled?’

It was hot, noisy and chaotic. Camille usually revelled in the pre-show atmosphere, but today she couldn’t stop thinking about the blackmail notes, and the fact that Isobel was threatening to expose Camille’s darkest secrets.

Then one voice cut through the mayhem:

‘Camille.’

She turned around to see Nicolas. He looked handsome and composed, in a crisp white shirt and stylish suit trousers, unflappable amidst the chaos. Once again, she realized how lucky she was to have him on her side, always looking out for her.

Nicolas ensured Camille’s attention was on him before he spoke, saying discreetly, ‘She’s here.’

A burst of adrenaline surged through Camille, then her face hardened, and she turned to René. ‘Keep everything under control here. I need ten minutes.’

Camille looked at Nicolas, their eyes meeting in silent understanding. ‘Let’s go.’

It was time for the showdown.