InvitingTheDevil (3 page)

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 astronomical, 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.”

I shivered. What the hell had I gotten myself into? My instinct, those I’d pushed so readily aside, that I was signing my life away, seemed correct. Maybe I should have listened to my inner voice. I stood and peeled off my tights and my top. Crossing my arms to hide my breasts, I waited.

“Underwear, too.”

I hesitated but cringed under his thunderous gaze. I quickly took off my panties.

“Remove your arms from your breasts and stretch them above your head. Stand perfectly still.”

I looked everywhere but at him although I felt his gaze roaming my body from bottom to top and back.

“Turn around.”

While my back was turned to him, I heard him on the phone. “Get me the salon.”

“Helen, I’m sending a new model down this afternoon. She needs the works. Patch me through to Pierre?”

“Pierre, this girl needs more than a makeover. Book her for electrolysis. Eyebrows, yes. And a full waxing. She’s raw material. Okay. Yes, sounds good. She’ll be there around one.”

Waxing? Ouch. A full waxing? Surely he didn’t mean…

“Turn around and face me again.”

My face had to be as red as a beet by then and my clit throbbed under his scrutiny. Dare I drop my arms? He swung his legs off the desk, stood and walked toward me. Taking my arms, he pushed them down. Placing his hands on my shoulders, he swiveled me in a circle, then forced me to bend over. His hands were on my buttocks. “What is this good for? I didn’t read any of this in the contract,” I dared to say.

I gasped as I received a resounding slap on my ass. Straightening, I jumped away from him. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Punishment for questioning me and I notice she does have some fire in her. Did it hurt?”

A flash of anger made me snap at him. “Of course, it hurt. Dammit, you’re a strong man.” My ass still smarted from the resounding slap he’d administered in full force.

“But looking at your pussy and your clit, you’re turned on.”

I knew it. The smack had hurt, yes, but at the same time, it had ignited a fire within me that traveled down to my pussy, my clit and caused the lips to swell. I throbbed with a need I’d never experienced before.

“I like it when you’re angry. It’s very becoming. Your eyes are sparkling right now and almost emerald. It’s interesting how they change color with your mood.”

“I’m glad it amuses you,” I said tight-lipped. There was no way in hell I would give in to him. Is this why his wives had divorced him? Did every model have to go through this?

“You’re very beautiful,” he said, his voice deep and husky. I melted under his hot gaze. When he licked his lips, I imagined his tongue licking mine, entering my mouth.

He reached down and ran his hand over my mound, my bushy pubic hair. “I can imagine this after Pierre is finished with you,” he murmured. “Unusual for a blonde to have almost black pubic hair. I noticed your eyebrows are naturally dark, too.”

A finger briefly delved between my legs feeling my slit, his other hand cupped a breast.

“Mm, perfect size. Now that I have a feel of your body, I know exactly the kind of clothes I’ll personally design for you to model in our next fashion show. Look at those nipples. I’ve never seen any this large or so dark on a blonde woman. Your aureole is large, too.”

He stroked my fully erect nipples. They’d always been a nuisance because they were quite large and often showed through flimsy material, as did the aureole, forcing me to wear a tank top, too. He stroked my body from head to toe, every inch of me. I wanted to squirm, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Thanks to the juices dribbling from my pussy, he already knew I was hornier than a cat in heat. I shivered.

“Are you afraid of me?”

“No. I don’t scare easily.”

“Good. You can get dressed now and go. I don’t want you to be late for your lessons.”

Dismissed, just like that. He walked back to his desk, picked up the remote to unlock the doors, then sat and studied something on his computer.

I hurriedly put my clothes back on. “Goodbye, Mr. Ostarizo.”

He didn’t answer me. I slung my purse over my shoulder and quickly left his office, my mind still reeling with everything that had just happened.

“I’ll take you to the studio now, Ms. Fitzgerald,” ogre said and led the way to the elevator.

What she called, the studio, was on the floor below. While following her, I thought about what had just happened in Kalem’s office. Hopefully, it was the only time I’d have to suffer his examination.
Did I really just think that?
I knew, deep down, I longed for more, ached for his touch, would even welcome another smack on my ass.
Slut. You hardly know the man. Remember what you read about him. Keep your distance.
I continued to wrestle with my thoughts until the door of the studio clicked behind me.

“Ms. Fitzgerald, I’ve been waiting for you.”

A slight man, at least a head shorter than me, approached. His hair, what there was of it, was green. Most of his head was shaved and the mohawk started at his forehead and tapered down at the back. The shaven parts were tattooed. He had dark eyes, wore very tight white jeans and a green tank top. Brown eyes scrutinized me.

“I’m Sheldon and I’ll be giving you your crash course in modeling. I hope you’re a fast learner. Kalem wants you in a show next week.”

“Next week? Good God.”

“Yes. That’s what I said when he told me. Darling, may I call you Danea? Although I really think you need a more alluring name for your modeling career.”

“I’ll keep my own name, thank you.”

“It’ll be up to Kalem, darling. I hope you have heels with you because we didn’t know your size so there are no shoes in your wardrobe yet.”

“Yes.” I took them out of my bag.

“Good. Put them on and let’s get started.”

Sheldon amused me. He was professional, obviously gay, but I liked him. He was gentle, yet firm as he coached me.

After a grueling three hours, my feet were killing me and I was dying of thirst. When he finally looked at his watch and said, “That’s it for today. I’ll see you the same time tomorrow morning.” I heaved an exhausted sigh.