“Rachel,” I correct. “Let me ask you this—is your manager threatening to release the photos today?”
She shakes her head, “No. No, he knows I found them, and he told me the whole story. He doesn’t plan to release them.” She licks her lips. “At least so long as I play nice. That is how he said it. Play nice.”
“Sounds like a charming guy. Hang on.”
I pull my phone out. “Hey, Rach, it’s Nikki. I’m sitting here with Carmela. Can you move her appointment with Damien to tomorrow? Same time?”
Rachel, fortunately, doesn’t ask any questions. Carmela, of course, does.
“But I need to see him,” she says. “I need his help. I do not want to play nice, and who better than Damien to play—what is the saying?—hard ball?”
“Totally with you. But humor me, okay? It’s probably stupid, but I think I have an idea. And if I’m right, it’ll help both of us.”
“Help you?”
I stand and start pacing again. “Let me think this through. Bertrand told you everything? Why?”
She sniffles. “I went to his house. We have known each other for many years, and I thought he deserved a discussion between friends when I left him as a manager.”
“So you were firing him?”
“I have no wish to model anymore, and I do not want to act. There is no business between us moving forward, though I had no ill thoughts toward him. I went to his house believing that he had always had my best interests at heart. That he was eager and aggressive, but that he wanted me to be a success. I thought he would be happy for me.”
“So you were leaving for some other kind of job entirely?”
“New job. New life.” Her smile lights up the morning and she holds out her left hand, revealing an engagement ring that I can’t believe I hadn’t noticed, because the stone is roughly the size of a small apple. “Paolo is a brilliant fashion designer. We will work together, and I will have my own couture line.”
“Congratulations,” I say. “On both counts.”
“He is very charming. And,” she adds with a wink, “he is at least as handsome as your Damie.”
“I highly doubt that,” I say, a smile twitching on my lips.
She laughs. “You are right, of course. But don’t tell Paolo,” she adds in a low whisper. “I am still one of the greatest models of this generation, no? I cannot marry a man prettier than I am.”
Now I do laugh out loud. “Okay, okay, so we have to get back on topic.” I’m thinking I may take her up on the trip to London. I’m liking Carmela more and more. “So he was pissed that you were firing him. And then, somehow, you found the photos?”
“He actually showed them to me. He told me everything. And then he said that if I didn’t want Paolo and the world to see the pictures, I would continue to let him represent me in the couture business. And that Paolo and I would book all our models through him, and—”
I hold up a hand. “I get it. Obviously, you don’t want Paolo to find out.”
“No, that does not bother me. I told him. I even showed him—I took a photo of the print with my phone.”
I nod slowly, processing all this. “You once told me that you’d cope if the photo got out. I think what you said exactly was that it would be embarrassing, but at least you looked damn good.”
Her mouth quirks up. “It is true. The photo is explicit—but it is also very flattering.”
“And Paolo doesn’t mind?”
“He is thrilled to have a fiancée who is so delicious.”
“Then you’re here to protect Damien.”
She nods. “And you,” she says. “But also Paulo’s family. He is fine with the photo being public. But his mother is very conservative. And his sister has taken Holy vows. They are welcoming me to the family, but I know that I am a bit of a scandal to them, you see?”
“I get it. And I have an idea. Is Paolo in LA with you?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“And Bertrand. Could you get him to come to California by Friday? Specifically Santa Barbara?”
“I—well, yes. He is already in Los Angeles for meetings. So, yes. I think I can do that. Why?”
“Carmela,” I say, “I want to invite you and Paolo to Damien’s birthday party next Friday.”
She blinks, obviously confused. “We—we would be delighted. But what does that have to do with—”
“Everything,” I say, as I sit down beside her again. “I have this plan. . .”
Chapter Six
“I’ll fucking kill him myself,” Jamie says after I’ve relayed everything that Carmela told me that morning.
“I think I’d like a piece of that action. And I know Damien would. But I wasn’t actually thinking homicide. You’re in, though, right? You and Ryan? Because I need Ryan on my side at the meeting tomorrow.”
“Not a problem. Ryan is going to be so stoked to take that fucker down.”
We’re window shopping in the Beverly Center, and I’ve been letting the whole Carmela problem gel. If my plan works, I’ll get Damien to Santa Barbara instead of Vancouver, solve my double-blind problem, and also help Carmela by shutting Bertrand’s blackmail scheme down cold.