Inviting the Devil Read online

  “Wear your blue pants and that sexy blue and white top. What was he wearing?”

  I almost drooled as I pictured him in my mind. “Tight leather pants and a white poet shirt.”

  “And I bet he looked sexy as hell.”

  “He did.”

  “Wear what I told you, let your hair hang loose and don’t go crazy with the hairspray. You’ve got such a lovely natural wave. I have to go. Work beckons. My boss is giving me dirty looks.”

  Shannon worked as a secretary for a travel agency. She and I had grown up together and after we graduated, we moved to the city. We shared my shitty little apartment for a while, as she liked to call it. It was small, but it was the best and the most affordable we could find when we first arrived in New York. When Shannon had found a better job, she’d moved to her own place and at the same time, I began working for Ostarizo, so I could afford the rent on my own. Maybe now I could find a better apartment. Surely, the wages would be higher than what I had been making. Kalem had said he would buy some of my designs outright. What do I charge for a drawing?

  I decided to shower and wash my hair before meeting him. Usually, I wore my hair tightly drawn back from my face, either in a ponytail, sometimes in a bun. My hair was springy, fluffy, with the occasional curly wisps escaping which I always plastered down with hairspray.

  After drying my hair, I brushed it until stayed put. I reached for the hairspray, but stopped. Maybe I should listen to Shannon, for a change. I dressed and put on the light blue designer pants I hadn’t worn since Jake. I had to search for the blue and white blouse. The outfit brought back some bad memories, but right then I was too excited and nervous about going out for lunch with Kalem to worry about the past.

  I stood before the full-length mirror and examined my reflection. I still felt plain, mousy, but the outfit did make me look sexier and complimented my figure. A touch of lipstick and I was done. The bus ride to the office took half an hour. If I left then, I’d be fifteen minutes early. Was it a good idea to be early, or would it be better to meet him right at noon? He wasn’t a man to toy with. I decided to catch the next bus.

  Traffic was heavy and the bus arrived near my office building ten minutes late. I hurried to the front entrance. Of course, he wasn’t there yet. Should I have expected otherwise? He was the master in this situation. For all I knew, he could have forgotten about his impulsive invitation.

  He kept me waiting fifteen minutes.

  “Nicely on time, Ms. Fitzgerald. I like that.”

  “I’ve been…” I clamped my teeth together.

  “Yes?”

  “I only just arrived myself.” There, that would take the satisfaction out of him at having me wait.

  “Did you now?”

  I saw his eyebrows rise and knew he’d caught me in the lie. He’d probably phoned down to the reception desk in the lobby and asked if I was there. Damn it, girl. Watch what you say to this man. He doesn’t miss a thing.

  “I hope you don’t mind me choosing the bistro nearby. I only have an hour,” he said as he started down the steps.

  “I go there myself sometimes. I love their spaghetti,” I said, wondering if he’d even heard me.

  I hurried alongside him trying to keep up with his long strides. I was not a short woman but he towered over me and I had to walk really fast.

  When we arrived a few moments later, the restaurant owner greeted Kalem personally. “Nice to see you, Signor Ostarizo. Your table is ready.” He merely shot me a nod of acknowledgment. Kalem headed for a small table in the far corner of the bistro. It was quite a private table. The owner pulled a chair out for me. I sat and so did Kalem.

  “The usual, please, Antonio.”

  “Si, Signor.”

  “You come here often, I gather,” I said, trying to start a conversation.

  “I do.”

  I was rather perturbed I hadn’t been asked what I would like to eat. I guess I’d have to make do with Kalem’s usual, whatever that was. Antonio didn’t give us menus. He returned quickly with a flask of red wine and two glasses.

  Kalem swirled the wine and tasted it. “Good, as always, Antonio.”

  Antonio filled their glasses. I wasn’t a wine drinker during the day, but I sipped it, hoping it would calm my nerves. My favorite was their spaghetti with meat sauce. It was to die for and about the only meal, I’d ever ordered there. Antonio returned quickly with fresh baked bread and butter. It smelled heavenly.

  Kalem took a slice of bread and buttered it, then handed it to me. “Have you ever had their bread?”

  “Garlic bread. Spaghetti is my favorite dish.”

  “Ah. Well, today you’ll appreciate my culinary taste. So how do you feel about your new career?”

  “Which one?”

  He laughed, a low throaty laugh that vibrated through every inch of me and settled in my crotch. Thank God, I’d remembered to put a panty liner in my panties.

  “Both.”

  “I’ve always wanted to become a top designer. I’m not sure about the modeling.”

  “Why not? You have the perfect figure for it. Your breasts aren’t too large, your derriere is rounded but perfect, you have a small waist and very shapely legs and arms.”

  He hadn’t studied me too much? Good grief. I felt naked suddenly.

  “Cat got your tongue?”

  “Thank you. I guess.”

  “You’re not used to compliments, are you?”

  “Not really.”

  “You’re very beautiful. The bone structure of your face is exquisite and now that your hair is loose, it brings out your real beauty. We need to add some color to it, some highlights. And you need some lessons in makeup. Are you wearing contacts?”

  “No.”

  “Your eyes are an unusual color. They remind me of a tropical ocean, the Caribbean. Cerulean blue. Very unique.”

  “I’ve never really taken notice. I thought they were just plain blue.”

  “I’ve made up my mind. I plan to make you famous.”

  “As a designer?”

  “As a model. You can design clothes in your spare time.”

  “Frankly, I don’t think I’m model material. That aspect of the fashion industry has never entered my mind.”

  “Let me be the judge of that. Enjoy your journey to fame. Before you realize it, your face and body will grace the covers of all the magazines.”

  I basked in his words, glowed under his scrutiny. Did he see something in me the mirror didn’t show? “I’m too realistic. I know I’m mousy. Men aren’t waiting on my doorstep to date me. My phone doesn’t ring off the hook. I don’t see how you can realistically turn the ugly duckling into a swan.”

  “You’re too cruel to yourself. You just haven’t learned how to bring out the best of you. I’m going to help you with that.”

  “I was always too focused on a career to bother with all the girlie stuff. My best friend would totally agree with you. More than once, she’s told me all the things you just said.”

  “So you’ll sign the contracts? Give it at least one year. If, after that year, I haven’t made good on my promise, you can walk away from modeling and concentrate on fashion design instead.”

  While he spoke, he’d reached across the table and placed his hand on mine. His touch was electrifying, his eyes piercing as if he was trying to read my mind, my heart, my soul. Yet he was completely mystifying. What did I know about Kalem except what the tabloids told me? And most of that was probably bullshit. The paparazzi had a habit of digging up dirt, true or not, and publishing it. I’d also seen photos of him entering some questionable clubs. I didn’t care. It had nothing to do with my new job and the possible modeling career. The man turned me on like crazy. He was insanely handsome, but I wasn’t about to mix business with pleasure. My need was great, I wanted him, did I ever want him. At the same time, I was determined to keep him at arm’s length.

  “Penny.”

  “Huh?” He squeezed my hand and his foot touched
my leg, the toe of his shoe stroking my calf gently. As if tazered, I tucked my feet under the chair.

  “Your thoughts. I lost you for a minute.”

  I didn’t know what to say. His hand stayed on mine until our food came.

  Antonio served us personally. Kalem received special treatment in the bistro. “Pepper, Senorita?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Yes, please.” I used the saltshaker liberally.

  “Salt is bad for you. It causes you to retain fluid and is not good for the heart and arteries.”

  “I like salt and pepper.”

  “I see that. I’d like you to cut back on the salt. Use a substitute if you must. As a model, you need to keep your weight even.”

  “My weight hasn’t changed in years. I don’t see why it would now.” I couldn’t believe how flippant I was with my answers. The two glasses of wine had settled my nerves. The ruby liquid had also made me slightly giddy. I gazed at my plate. “What is it?”

  “Zuppa Toscana. Taste it. It’s delicious.”

  I took a small bite. He was right. It was scrumptious and I dug in.

  “I love the way you eat. I’m used to women eating daintily, tiny bites, ending up leaving most of their food. You eat like you’re enjoying your meal.”

  Mm, what else does he love about me? Was he coming on to me or just trying to draw me out of my shell? I looked up and nodded. His eyes were expressionless. “I enjoy my food.”

  “Would you like dessert?”

  “No thanks. I’m not much for sweets.”

  “Good. I would have had to leave you alone to eat it. I have a meeting in ten minutes.”

  His foot touched my leg again and rubbed up and down my calf. Damn, you’ll get my pants dirty. Stop it. No, keep doing it. I hadn’t drunk the third glass of wine. There was no accounting how I might have behaved if I had. I sipped water instead while I finished off the last of my Zuppa Toscana.

  Kalem signaled Antonio. “Put it on my tab, Antonio? My compliments on the food as usual.”

  He stood and didn’t pull out my chair but let Antonio do it. Fine—he had no manners. At least not with me. Gripping me firmly by the arm, he steered me through the bistro and out the doors. Once outside, he lifted my chin.

  “I enjoyed having lunch with you, Danea. I may call you Danea?”

  I nodded numbly, and forgot to thank him for lunch.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

  I watched him stride away and round the corner before I hurried to the bus stop. Once on the bus, it occurred to me that I still hadn’t asked him about wages and neither had he mentioned it.

  I’d barely entered my apartment before the phone rang. I glanced at the call display. It was Shannon.

  “How’d it go?”

  “It was okay.”

  “Just okay? What did you talk about? Did he come on to you?”

  “He tried to convince me to sign the modeling contract. Said he’s going to make me a famous model.”

  “Far out, girlfriend. You’re going to sign of course.”

  “I still haven’t made up my mind. I’ll think about it tonight.”

  “Aw, c’mon now. Live dangerously for a change. You can always fall back on fashion design.”

  “I can, but you know I’m kind of timid, shy. I don’t think a career in modeling is for me. I don’t even look the part.”

  “Oh, by the time they’re done with you, you’ll be gorgeous. Just wait and see. How many times have I told you you’re pretty? You’re so damn insecure. Boss is back. I have to go. I’ll come over tonight.”

  “No, don’t. I want to be alone to think.”

  “Fine.”

  The phone went dead. I’d probably pissed Shannon off, but I needed to wrap my head around Kalem’s offer. Shannon was a chatterbox and I needed quiet time to make my decision.

  Before going to bed, I still hadn’t made up my mind. I played a game on my laptop but got bored with it. I decided to do a search for Kalem Ostarizo and found a ton of references on the internet. Some of the sites showed Kalem surrounded by his models dressed in his designs. They were probably photos taken at fashion shows. I found quite a few gossip columns and blogs that had articles about him. I read a number of them.

  His first wife divorced him giving as reason, physical abuse. His second wife left him for the same reason and third wife quoted mental and physical abuse. How much of it was true? All three had received huge settlements, the mansions, all the furniture and cars. According to one report, they were clean payouts. No spousal support. According to another article, the settlements were handled privately, out of court.

  I found it completely out of character. He came across as a forceful man, a man not to be toyed with, a man who liked to get his own way. Did he just meekly accept their accusations? Was there truth in their accusations of abuse?

  I finally found a very long, but recent article about Kalem’s history. His parents had immigrated to the USA when he was ten. He was now thirty. His father was involved with the mob. When Kalem was twelve, gangsters shot his father and the murder of her husband drove his mother insane. She ended up in a mental institution and Kalem became a ward of the state then landed in a foster home.

  “Oh, my God,” I whispered softly. “No wonder he has such a steely expression in his eyes.” I knew the story was probably less than completely correct. Reading up on him had given me more insight into Kalem Ostarizo. But could I trust the man or should I be afraid of him?

  I closed my laptop and after turning off the lights, crawled into bed. I decided to make my decision in the morning after reading the contracts.

  Chapter Two

  Wearing my new black tights and a snug-fitting top, I hurried into the building and rode the elevator up to the top floor. It was full. Several of the people worked on my floor where I had worked until the day before. They nodded in greeting and I thought they looked at me strangely. I felt terribly self-conscious in tights. The spiked heels were in my oversized bag hanging from my shoulder. He’d told me to wear them, but it was easier to walk in sandals, especially if a girl had to catch a bus.

  I was the only one on the elevator when it stopped on the top floor. I hurried to the ogre’s desk. “Morning, Ms. Plum.”

  “Take a seat, Ms. Fitzgerald. I’ll be with you shortly.”

  Ms. Plum peered at me over the top of her glasses for a moment. “You need to wear high-heeled shoes.”

  I patted my purse. “They’re in here.”

  Ogre nodded. “I’ll get your paperwork ready.”

  After a few minutes, she placed two neat piles on the desk. She apparently noticed me watching her and motioned me to approach her desk.

  “Please read each contract carefully. If you’re satisfied, you need to initial each page and sign on the last page of all copies. I will witness your signature.”

  I took both contracts back to my chair and left the copies on the desk. I started reading the legal jargon and wondered if I should have a lawyer look at them.

  “Mr. Ostarizo is not a patient man. If you’re unsure about signing the contracts, you’d best tell me now,” Ms. Plum told me. “Everyone gets the same contract. Yours is no different.”

  Is she telling me it’s safe to sign? I wrestled through each page. The amount I was going to receive for my drawings was more money than I normally earned in a year and it was to be paid in full upon signing. He claimed first rights to any future designs I sketched. The modeling contract was worded differently of course, so I had to read from the beginning. Several of the clauses puzzled me. I had to be available at all times and be ready to travel at a moment’s notice. There was a confidentiality clause and one that bound me to represent The House of Ostarizo if requested.

  Almost at the end of the contract, a clause stated I had to be on call 24/7 to accompany Mr. Kalem Ostarizo to special events. I wondered about the special events. Did it mean he called his models to be his escort for an evening?

  The wages were astronomic
al, so high, I had to force down a gasp. There was no question about it. I was ready to put my signature on those papers. “I’m ready to sign,” I told ogre.

  “Good. Mr. Ostarizo is waiting for you in his office. Follow me.” Ogre picked up the copies of the contracts, two large envelopes, and led the way.

  A thrill coursed through me as I approached his desk. Ogre was already beside him placing the contracts in front of him. He barely acknowledged my presence, merely nodded briefly and proceeded to initial each page and sign the last pages. Ogre picked up the paperwork and placed the contracts on the desk in front of me. I picked up the pen she’d placed silently on top and started putting my initials on each page and signing. Was I signing my life away? A pang of fear crept up my throat as I recalled what I’d read on the internet the night before and at the clause that demanded I be ready to accompany him to special events. The money was too tempting, so I buried my misgivings and continued to sign.

  Ogre signed the last sheet of each copy as the witness, placed a copy of each contract in the envelopes and handed them to me. She took the others with her, probably to file away, and left the office.

  “Where are your high heels?” Kalem demanded to know.

  “In my purse.”

  “Good. In an hour, Ms. Plum will escort you to your first modeling lesson. After that, you’ll go to our salon downstairs for a complete makeover. From now on, you’ll only wear designer clothes, shoes and accessories, both at work and at home. They’ll be waiting for you in the studio. You now represent The House of Ostarizo and must look and act the part.”

  Pushing his chair back, he put his feet on top of the desk, and gazed at me while picking up a small remote. Behind me the doors clicked, and I knew he’d locked them.

  “Stand up.”

  I did as I was told.

  “Take your clothes off.”

  “Why?”

  “Stop questioning every command I give you,” he said in terse tone. “You will obey me at all times, no questions asked. Didn’t you read that part of the contract?”

  “It didn’t quite say it that way.”

  “That’s what it means. Strip.”