Now it looked real.
I crossed the room then stopped in front of her. “Ms. Blackwood, how are you?” I liked her name. It was filled with such historical reference and power. It was heavy with elegance too, the kind of poise that she carried. My hand moved to her hip, and I leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.
A thrill immediately went down my spine at the contact. I didn’t touch her that way when we met last week, but at a function like this, it was the cordial way of doing things. I just didn’t expect to enjoy kissing her—or how natural it felt.
She didn’t flinch at my touch, and her smile widened. “I’m well. How are you?”
I was doing a lot better now that I was talking to her. “Good. Can I get you a drink?”
“No, thank you. I’ve had way too many already.” She was standing in front of a framed image of Platform magazine. It was protected behind glass with an art light pointed directly at it. A famous actress was on the cover.
I nodded to the wall. “Looks nice.”
“Yes, that was a special edition.” She turned to examine the cover with me. “And she’s very sweet. I think people find her intimidating because of her beauty, but she’s very down-to-earth.”
Instead of looking at the picture, I stared at Scarlet instead. I watched the way her face lit up with a smile as she stared proudly at her work. In the short amount of time I’d spent with her, it became apparent how much she loved her work. It wasn’t just a job to her, but her entire life. “Can I ask you something?”
She pivoted her body back to me. “Considering the way I interrogated you last week, I think that would be okay.”
“Have you modeled?”
Instead of just smiling, a blush filled her cheeks. “You flatter me, Mr. Hunt.”
Employees and acquaintances called me that. It didn’t feel right hearing her address me so formally. We were surrounded by alcohol, half-naked women, and loud music. This wasn’t a business meeting. “Please call me Vincent.”
“Very well. Then you must call me Scarlet.”
“I will.”
“To answer your question, yes. I did a very long time ago. That was how I got started in the business. I modeled evening gowns and lingerie. When I retired from that career, I still wanted to be involved in fashion and beauty. That’s how I got here.”
The idea of her modeling lingerie got my attention. “How long ago was that?”
“I retired when I turned thirty. That was twelve years ago.”
She was forty-two. She was fourteen years younger than me. That didn’t seem like such a big difference when most of my companions were in their early twenties. “What do you love more? Modeling or running the magazine?”
“I don’t love one more than the other. They’re completely different. I had a very illustrious modeling career, and it gave me such an adventurous life. But once it was time to close that chapter, I wasn’t too upset about it. It was time to move on. Now I’m in a different chapter of my life, and I’ve embraced it.”
I liked her perspective on life. “That’s a good way to look at it.”
“Thirty is very old for a model, as young as that seems. I could have continued, but it would have required cosmetic surgery, and that was a route I didn’t want to take. It looks great on some women, but I knew it wasn’t for me. Aging is nothing to be ashamed of, and I feel just as beautiful now as I did then.”
“I agree with you.” It was one of the things I’d first noticed about her. She had hints of age, but that didn’t deter from her beauty. She was definitely gorgeous, and her natural looks highlighted her features even more. She reminded me of myself, embracing age while taking care of her appearance as much as possible—naturally. I’d been with models for a long time, but I found Scarlet far more beautiful than all of them. I couldn’t explain why.
“I just don’t think a woman should change her appearance to be considered beautiful.”
“You’re right. And you don’t need it, Scarlet.”
The blush filled her cheeks again. “You’re very sweet, Vincent. I understand why the girls adore you.”
“The girls?” I wasn’t sure to whom she was referring. I’d seen in the tabloids that the media considered me to be a very sexy man despite the slight gray that had come into my hair. They said I’d aged phenomenally well, and people couldn’t believe my age when I said it. But I didn’t have fangirls the way a boy band did.
“The models,” she explained. “Meredith, Natalie, Alessia…you’ve been mentioned quite a few times.”
I supposed it was naïve to think they didn’t talk about me when I wasn’t around. I never spoke of them to anyone because it wasn’t the gentlemanly thing to do. And it must be awkward between them, knowing they all dated the same man.
“Don’t worry, they only said good things.”
I always treated them like goddesses, so I hoped they didn’t have any ill feelings toward me. If I ever ran into any of them, I would always stop and say hello. “That’s good to know.”
“Alessia seemed to take the breakup hard. She’s been eating even less than usual.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” I didn’t want any woman to be sad over me. I wasn’t worth their time, not when there was something so much better out there.
Despite the heavy subject, her opinion of me didn’t seem to change. “Have models always been your type?”
“I suppose.” I didn’t plan for it on purpose. It just seemed to happen that way. Whenever I met them at a social event, I recognized them. We started talking, and one thing led to another.
“Was your wife a model?”
I didn’t talk about Isabella. I’d already made that clear. “Is this off the record?”
“Vincent, nothing is on the
