‘I’ll be honest. Your concept does not sound innovative or new.’
Oh, great...
He pinned her with his intense blue gaze. She forced herself to look right at him.
‘The Greek goddess thing has been done to death. Kyla is an Australian marrying into Italian nobility. I thought with your youth you might bring a fresh approach.’
‘I’m sure I can do fresh. I’ve got loads more ideas—’
‘Your portfolio contained high fashion—art. Very beautiful. Intelligent. But this feature needs to be something much more glamorous. Heavenly readers deserve a twenty-first-century fairytale.’
‘Absolutely. A prince marrying his Cinderella.’
He sighed impatiently.
She swallowed. Come on, Coral! This was going badly wrong. She’d put in so much work. There was no way she was going to let it fall apart now. She had to pull it back.
‘If you could tell me more about what you have in mind I’m sure I can deliver.’
Her phone started to ring again. She glanced at her bag. Her mother would be getting in a panic. They hadn’t seen or spoken to each other for two days now. And she was hundreds of miles away on an island, on the cusp of what might be the most important move in her career.
Or the worst.
‘Sorry, I thought I’d put it on silent. Would you mind if I took the call?’
‘Don’t you think you’re a little busy right now?’
She squirmed on the seat and tried to put it out of her mind.
‘Signor Rossini, I will deliver exactly what you want. When I set my mind to something I don’t give up until I succeed—’
He cut her off. ‘The photographers I work with are legendary.’
He wasn’t even giving her a chance. It was as if he had made his mind up already—and that was just plain unfair.
‘Everyone’s got to start somewhere! I only found out what the commission was two hours ago, if you’ll recall?’
‘Maybe so, but I would have thought that on the flight over you would have worked up your ideas.’
‘This is not how I would expect to carry out a commission. There should be consultation and discussion, and various themes explored with the client. Not two hours’ notice and then an interview that feels more like an interrogation.’
‘This feels like an interrogation?’
She swallowed, regretting her brave words. But she couldn’t take them back.
‘If you feel that this is an interrogation, you’d better get a new career. This is business—and it’s personal. As owner of Heavenly, I am simply making sure that a complete novice gives me the quality of work and the discretion I require. I have never met you. I have no guarantees about you. No recommendations other than Mariella’s and the words that come out of your mouth. So far they’re not up to my standards. You understand my concern?’
His tone was so quiet, so controlled.
The phone. Again.
‘If you’d rather chat on the phone, be my guest.’
He was mocking her now. She dipped her hand into her bag, faced him grimly and grabbed her phone.
‘I’m taking this,’ she said, then turned her head slightly. ‘Mum, I’m fine. Yes, everything is fine. I can’t talk now because I’m being interviewed. Hydros—the island is Hydros. There’s no need to panic. You’ll only get yourself upset. I’ll call you right back. I won’t be long. I promise.’
He watched, one eyebrow raised, as she switched the phone off and then put it back in her bag. Her face was flushed, but the burn she felt on her cheeks was nothing to what she felt in her chest.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘but it’s my mother. I had to tell her where I was. She gets worried about me and she can be quite ill with nerves. I know this was all supposed to be kept hush-hush, with your non-disclosure forms, but I’ve never gone to the end of the road without letting her know before. Maybe that’s not how your “legends” would behave, but that’s how we are.’
He looked utterly impassive and she felt the tension inside her bubble higher.
‘You know, you’re not the only one who cares about their family,’ she said, filling the hideously blooming silence as he continued to watch her. ‘My family is every bit as important to me as yours is to you. So my clothes are from a charity shop and not couture? So what? That woman on the phone is my mother. And, since this interview doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, I’ll head back to England to see her right now.’
She stood up.
‘Sit down,’ he said.
Despite the glare she fixed him with her legs buckled and she sank back down, bracing herself for his verdict. Her eyes flicked away, over his shoulder, to the other end of the cove, where the majestic old Villa Di Visconti sat against a hillside of olive groves.
The team would be getting it ready for the shoot. She desperately wanted to stay with them and complete her first big job, but she wouldn’t be bullied into ignoring her mother when she needed her. Not by anyone.
‘First of all, I make the decisions about who comes and goes from this island. The only way on and off is by my boat or my plane. So forget any plans you have for dramatic exits. Unless you’d like to take your chances swimming to the mainland?’
Coral’s mouth tightened. No way was he going to threaten her.
‘Secondly, respect is non-negotiable if we are to have any kind of relationship. You will never speak to me like that again.’
‘Relationship?’ she spluttered.
‘Relationship,’ he repeated, his tone now rich and velvety. ‘As in client and creative.’
‘I don’t get it...’
He sighed, almost imperceptibly, and sat down opposite her.
‘Let’s just say you’ve passed the first test.’
‘I have?’ Coral’s bag slid from her lap and her shoulders slumped. She felt her mouth hang open. ‘How come? What did I say? The seventies thing?’
Suddenly his face relaxed, and for a second a tiny smile curved the corner of his mouth.
‘Definitely not the seventies thing. No. Your loyalty. Family values. Very strong. And for me that is a pretty good indication of a person. I know you can take pictures, so we can work with the rest.’ He waved his hand dismissively.
‘I don’t understand,’ she whispered, staring. ‘You’re hiring me but you don’t like my ideas?’
‘Let’s just say that I’m confident you won’t let me down. What you feel for your mother mirrors what I feel for la famiglia Di Visconti. As long as you are sensitive to that, I think we will be able to work together.’
‘I don’t know what to say. This is all very—’
‘Say nothing. Just convince me now that you can work the magic you say you’re capable of.’
‘OK,’ she said, sinking back into the seat a little. ‘It shouldn’t be difficult. All the ingredients are there already. They’re a lovely couple.’
He regarded her silently. ‘There are some quite important differences. The Di Viscontis do not court the media. But Kyla is...shrewd. She wants to create an empire—for the world to witness every moment of her life. It is my job to control what the world sees.’
He