Second Chance: A Christian Romance (Royals Book 2) Read online

  ~*~*~*~

  “You’re leaving already?” Corey asked.

  Corey, accompanied by his fiancée, Trudy, had attended the show.

  “Yep. You guys are welcomed to stay, though. Miles will return to pick you up. Just call him on his cell phone when you’re ready to leave,” Robert replied.

  Corey toasted him happily and resumed regaling two attentive listeners with an amusing anecdote. Trudy, Robert noted with a frown, was across the other side of the room flirting with a pop star of notorious repute.

  Robert continued to make his way through the crowded room when he spotted the spitfire model deep in conversation with Assante. She caught him watching her and gave him the stink eye. His face still stung as though it had been attacked by wasps. He shook his head and moved on. A drama queen was born every minute. It reminded him why he was so happy to be single.

  “Bobby,” a booming voice roared, “You’re leaving already?”

  A hand clapped on his shoulder. It was Sidney Cusak, a film director and a close friend of his father. “That was quite a show you put on tonight.”

  “Uncle Sid.” Robert shared a hug with the older man. He hadn’t seen him in a few years. “Yeah, thanks. What are you doing here? I never figured you for a fashion show fan.”

  Sidney shrugged. “Gertz dragged me to it. Look, she’s over there chatting with Anna Wintour. Stay, she’d love to see you,” he said, gesturing to his wife.

  “I’m actually heading out. I was up early this morning and I’m kinda beat.”

  “How’s your mum and dad? The last time I saw Mike was at the Holocaust Memorial Museum Benefit Dinner. That was over a year ago.”

  “Oh, they are doing well. Dad’s actually in New York shooting a film right now.”

  “What’s it called?”

  “The Climb.”

  “That’s great. I have to give him a ca–”

  “Bobby!”

  Robert turned his head. It was Gertrude. She embraced him and kissed both his cheeks. When she drew back to look into his face, her smile was replaced with a concerned frown.

  “Sweetie, what happened to your face? There’s a large red mark on your cheek.”

  Robert gave a short, humorless laugh and glanced down at his shoes.

  “Uh, I had a run in with the blonde bombshell.”

  “Huh?”

  Robert looked around for the model. She wasn’t where he’d seen her earlier with Assante. He scanned the room and found her a little ways off conversing with two other women. He jerked a thumb in her direction.

  “Her, the model I was walking the runway with, Dana something.”

  His nonchalant manner was an attempt to hide his embarrassment. He knew her full name. In fact, he remembered every detail about her.

  When he’d walked backstage, she’d been the first person to catch his eye. She had been in conversation with a short black man so her commanding height was immediately noticeable. She almost looked like an Amazon. His impression of runway models was that they were skinny to the point of gauntness. Dana Dickson was slim but she had curves. Her beauty was undeniable but that was not what had piqued his interest. After all, pretty women were a dime a dozen in la-la land. No, it was something else. It was the way she held her head and had her shoulders thrown back, it was that air of cool self-possession. And then she’d turned her eyes on him and his interest intensified a hundred-fold. She had eyes that were fierce and self-assured, like a lioness.

  So what had possessed him to think he could just plant a kiss on a woman like that? Well, his mother had always accused him of being fearless. But it was really more than that. There was something about the woman that had caused him to lose all sense of reason. It wasn’t really his style to go around kissing women like he thought he was Sean Connery.

  The kiss had caught him off guard as much as it had her. He’d felt really embarrassed but had decided to play it cool and act like it wasn’t a big deal at all. Unfortunately, for him, that strategy had failed spectacularly.

  “Dana Dickson? What happened?” Gertrude now asked.

  “Apparently, she objected to that little kiss I dropped on her lips. Go figure.”

  Gertrude’s mouth dropped open.

  “Bobby, are you telling me that she didn’t know you were going to do that?”

  “Aunt Gertz, come on, it’s called improv. We do it in acting all the time,” Robert said as he splayed his hands outwards.

  “Sweetie, she’s not an actress and that wasn’t a play. Do you know I was a model before I met Sidney?”

  “No, didn’t know that.”

  “Well, I was and if some guy had done that to me, even if he looked like you, let’s just say you got off easy, young man.”

  Robert’s gaze slid helplessly to Sidney. “Uncle Sid, help me out here.”

  Sidney held up his hands.

  “I have to agree with Gertz, Bobby. That was a little disrespectful. I understand you may have gotten carried away. She’s a real looker, but you shouldn’t do that to a woman unless you and she have had an understanding. Know what I mean?”

  “You need to go apologize,” Gertrude said.

  Robert was about to protest but Gertrude wagged a finger in his face.

  “Do you want me to call your mother, Bobby?”

  Robert shook his head vigorously. “No ma’am, don’t do that.”

  A tongue-lashing from Reba Cortelli was way worse than swallowing his pride.

  “I’ll go speak to her.”

  “There’s a good boy.”

  Gertrude reached up and drew him down for another hug. Something caught her attention. “Hurry, it looks like she’s leaving.”

  Robert glanced around and saw the blonde exit with another woman. He sighed and followed them.

  ~*~*~*~

  “What did Giuseppe say?” Grace Jordan asked.

  “Giuseppe’s sweet. He understood my reaction, although he tried to make excuses for him. But I wasn’t having any of it. You don’t know how mad I was, Grace.”

  “Sorry, Dana, I can’t relate. If Robert Cortelli had kissed me, I would have kissed him right back.”

  Dana slanted an amused glance at the fellow model. Grace, with her smooth dark chocolate complexion, was the latest long-stemmed beauty to find fame on the catwalk.

  “You’re despicable.”

  “I know,” Grace replied, unabashedly.

  “Do you ladies need a ride somewhere?”

  Dana’s head whipped around. She couldn’t believe her eyes. It was Robert Cortelli. This man had some nerve!

  “From you?” she sputtered. “No thanks.”

  Grace gave her a look.

  “Speak for yourself,” she said out of the side of her mouth to Dana. “I wouldn’t mind a ride,” she quipped loudly, batting her lashes.

  “Yes, you would. We already have a ride,” Dana said.

  “May I speak with you alone for a few minutes, Dana?” Robert asked.

  Dana was taken aback for a moment. Robert Cortelli looked very uncomfortable, not quite so sure of himself. For a moment, she almost felt sorry for losing her temper. Then she remembered what he’d said to Assante about women. No, this man had no respect for women. She knew his type only too well.

  “No, you may not. If you’ve got something to say you may say it in front of Grace.”

  His gaze shifted from her to Grace and then back again.

  Grace seemed to take pity on him. “Actually, Dana, I’m going to catch a ride with Wanda. I see her leaving. Let’s talk later.”

  “But Grace…” Dana helplessly watched Grace abandon her and call out to another model.

  “You were saying?” She reluctantly pulled her eyes back to Robert’s.

  “I’m sorry I kissed you…earlier.”

  “Are you? Really?”

  “That’s what I just said.”

  “Oh, I heard you. I just don’t believe you. You don’t have a lot of respect for models do you, Mr. Cortelli?”


  “What?” his eyebrows drew together.

  Dana folded her arms across her chest.

  “I’ve met your type before. You think you’re God’s gift to women and that women like me exist just to fulfill your every male fantasy. Well, I’ve got news for you. There are some women who do not find you as fascinating as you find yourself.”

  He watched her in wonder for several beats. Finally, he slowly shook his head.

  “You are a real piece of work, do you know that? I apologize and you tear me to shreds. You’ve got a serious problem, sweetheart. All I did was pop an innocent kiss on your lips and…”

  “Innocent kiss? Innocent kiss? I should sue you for assault!”

  “Oh, so you want money now? Is modeling not working out for you?”

  “You think I want your money?”

  “Isn’t that what this is about? Hey, guess what? I’m the one who should sue. You almost slapped the skin off my face.”

  “Serves you right. And for the record if you ever come near me again I’ll be aiming much lower.”

  He took a step back and pointed at her.

  “You’re crazy,” he announced with conviction.

  “Yes, bear that in mind next time you get any bright ideas.”

  “I’ll pray that there’s never, ever, a next time.”

  “Way ahead of you. I’ve already sent up my prayers.”

  He curled his lip, jammed his hands in his pockets and stomped off.

  Chapter 3

  Dana spent the better part of an hour ranting and raving to Heather about Robert Cortelli over breakfast the next morning.

  “I still can’t get over this guy’s nerve. Kisses me and then wants to brush it off,” she said.

  “I don’t know, I think it was big of him to apologize,” Heather said as she pierced a cube of cantaloupe melon with her fork.

  “But he wasn’t really sorry. He was never sorry. Even when I confronted him after the show he had the audacity to suggest that models were no better than hookers. I honestly don’t know why he even bothered to apologize. And you know what? His insincerity was confirmed when he claimed it was just an innocent kiss. Like it was his right to kiss me. Like, I was a part of his deal with Assante or something.”

  “I think you’ve been fighting off predators for so long, Dana, that when you meet a nice guy, you don’t recognize him.”

  Dana asked with an incredulous stare, “Nice guy? Are you kidding me!? The guy kissed me without even asking and he’s nice? I don’t even want to think about what he would have done if he was naughty. What is wrong with you, Heather, how can you tell me that arrogant jerk is nice?”

  “Okay, I’ll admit that he was out of place. But, Dana, he said he was sorry. Most guys wouldn’t have done that. Besides, it’s not like he attempted to French kiss you. You may be over-reacting a teeny bit.”

  “Overreacting? You know what? You’re biased. You’re a member of his fan club and he can do no wrong for you. I don’t share your admiration for this guy. Sorry. He’s a jerk, a classic male, chauvinist pig. I never thought I’d use such a cliché but it fits perfectly.”

  Heather cocked her head to the side and watched Dana for a long moment as she chewed her fruit.

  “Hmmm. I don’t think I have ever seen you get so worked up over a guy before.” She jabbed her fork in Dana’s direction. “You know what? I think you like him,” she said.

  Dana’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open.

  “That’s it! Now you’ve gone too far. I have lost my appetite. I’m going back over to the center to get ready for the show.”

  “Fine. I’m right, though. You should listen to me. I’m ten years your senior. I’ve got years of experience on you, girl.”

  “That doesn’t make you wise, only old,” Dana shot back.

  “No need to get nasty,” Heather muttered as Dana signaled to the waiter.

  ~*~*~*~

  Two days later, the last day of L.A. Fashion Week, Dana was working the runway at Heather’s show. Techno-funk blared out of speakers at earplug-worthy decibels as she strutted, perched on dangerously tall, knee-high boots and wearing a sleeveless, full-length black dress with a split that stopped just mid-thigh of her left leg. The hem of the dress grazed the ground and the shoe heels were pencil thin. It was a potentially risky combination but Dana was used to such and she was making it work.

  When she reached the end of the runway, she paused for effect and was about to make the turn to go back up the other side when her eyes collided with his.

  Robert Cortelli sat smack dab in front of her. And he looked like male perfection in a black leather jacket, black t-shirt, and black jeans.

  The impact on Dana was immediate.

  She took an involuntary step backwards. Her shoe heel caught in the hem of her dress. She stepped forward to dislodge it. Her feet tripped over each other. They got entangled in the hem. She lost her balance and toppled off stage.

  And found herself in Robert Cortelli’s arms!

  Before Dana could even recover from the horror of what had just happened the crowd began to clap. Cortelli continued to hold her in his arms.

  He dipped his head and whispered, “I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

  “Put me down,” she said through clenched teeth. Why was she plagued by the presence of this man? Was she paying for past sins?

  His eyebrows shot up and he shrugged.

  “Your wish is my command,” he replied.

  Robert walked over to the stage where he lowered her to her feet to quite a few chuckles and more applause. Dana lifted her dress a few inches off the ground and sauntered back up the runway, head held high as patrons continued to clap.

  “That was amazing,” Heather said backstage. “You didn’t tell me you were going to do that.”

  “Do you think that was staged?” Dana shot Heather an incredulous look. “I almost broke my neck and it was his fault.”

  Heather looked a bit confused.

  “His fault? How?”

  “He distracted me.”

  A slow smile covered Heather’s face. “Is that why you fell for him?”

  “Oh, shut up with the corny jokes,” Dana snapped and was followed to the changing room by her friend’s cackles.

  ~*~*~*~

  Robert Cortelli sat in his seat after the incident at the Heather Lawrence show trying to figure out why he was there.

  Two days after his encounter with Dana at the Assante show, Heather Lawrence sent him a front row ticket to her fashion show with the note: ‘Dana would love to see you. She wants to apologize’.

  Surprise was his first reaction; resistance his second.

  Dana Dickson, stunning though she was, was clearly trouble with a capital ‘T’. He had played Petruchio in a college production of Taming of the Shrew, and he had no intention of living it out in real life. As much as he admired spirit in a woman, he knew first hand that too much spirits could leave one with a terrible hangover.

  Tossing the ticket and the note into the nearest waste paper basket, he had resolved to stay as far away from that particular shrew as possible.

  Then, a day later he was watching ESPN when she appeared onscreen and proceeded to fill him in on the merits of the latest model of BMW.

  He had been riveted to his seat for the next minute and a half and then spent the rest of that day trying to exorcise the statuesque vixen from his mind. He’d found it impossible.

  By the next morning, he’d finally given up and gone online to learn more about her. The first thing he’d learned was that Dana Dickson wasn’t just a model, she was a Super. Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, it’s Supermodel. He’d allowed himself a chuckle at that train of thought but then had sobered when he discovered that being a supermodel was actually a big deal.

  This twenty-three-year-old woman was paid something like $20,000 a day for posing for photos and held multi-million dollar contracts with couture houses as the face and body for their campaigns. She didn’t even h
ave to say ‘cheese.’ In fact, from the looks of it, she didn’t even have to smile. Was that insane or what?

  As he clicked through her magazine cover photos, he wondered how it was possible that he hadn’t known who she was. She was clearly a popular face.

  And suddenly, with that new awareness, Dana Dickson seemed to show up everywhere to tantalize him. Like later that day when he was driving along the Sunset Strip and caught a glimpse of a billboard plastered with her image. And the next day when he entered Rodeo Collection to get a birthday gift for his mother and was greeted on entry by a huge poster of Dana sitting on a bottle of Chanel No. 5. And the finale, when he scanned the L.A. Times that night and found himself staring at an image of Dana Dickson. Of course, he read the short article which accompanied the image and learned that the supermodel was being considered for a small role in the movie The Asylum. Irrationally, his heartbeat had quickened at the prospect of working with her in the near future.

  When the day of the Heather Lawrence Show arrived, he’d found himself frantically searching for the discarded ticket. Eventually, he found it tossed in a bin in the study.

  He still had misgivings, though, and as he drove over to the loft, smiled for the press, walked into the center, and took his seat, he debated the foolhardiness of his actions.

  He’d broken up with his last girlfriend a year earlier and had decided then that he would focus on his career. That plan had worked out just fine. Since then, he’d made Train Crash, which had opened that weekend and was already leading at the box office. He was now getting ready to start filming his new movie, Damage, an espionage thriller. He was on a trajectory to become a megastar and he sure didn’t need the drama that came with some diva supermodel to distract him.

  Despite all his arguments it seemed like it was too late. She had gotten under his skin somehow. Even as he sat in the audience, smack dab at the end of the runway, his palms began to sweat in anticipation of seeing her again.

  He was in the perfect position, he noted several minutes later, because it enabled him to watch her saunter down the catwalk. She really was a stunner. It was instantly clear why she was a supermodel. She could make burlap look good. There were other models on the runway, he was sure, but he didn’t see any of them. His eyes never left her. Not even for one second.