Palmer: Fashion Week Ch. 08

When the sensational orgasm finally erupted, she made no attempt to stifle her screams.

*

"You were ... so fucking hot out there," Alicia said ecstatically, as soon as she found Roxanne back stage.

The supermodel host pulled the redhead into a friendly hug before Roxie even had a chance to grab a robe.

"I think we can definitely say the job is yours," she beamed. "The ratings will be through the roof."

"You think so?" Roxanne enthused.

It felt like it had gone well, but how could she be sure?

Alicia laughed as she reached out and brushed one of the redhead's sweeping locks from across her eye.

"I know so. You're a natural for television, sweetie. It's going to be such a pleasure to work together. We're going to have a lot of fun."

The American model pulled away enough so that her soft brown eyes could meet Roxanne's. They were sparkling with enthusiasm.

"The girls are doing their interviews now," Alicia continued, "and we judges need to gather to discuss which of the girls have grabbed our attention. That gives us about twenty minutes for food. Give or take. Are you hungry?"

The food was a boxed meal. So much for the glamour of television, Roxanne thought. They wolfed it down while they discussed the merits of each girl and the television crew packed their things up. They were all heading on location to a runway show for the final piece of the show, where the contestants would be tested before a live audience.

"What exactly does that consist of?" Roxie asked.

Alicia smiled. "We get to watch the girls strutting their stuff again—this time with clothes—and then we meet again in our little judging circle to pick a winner and a loser. Such is life."

Roxanne nodded. She'd already formed a view about her three favourites, and also who wasn't going to make the grade. Tonight's live performance would help her narrow down those choices.

"God, I'm pleased I didn't have to go through this when I started," Alicia added, with a sigh.

"Me too," Roxie agreed, shaking out her red hair.

She felt good. On top of things. And she couldn't wait to get back to Jack and tell him how successful things had gone. But first, they had a show to finish up. A stagehand with a headset pointed to a limo for them and the two women walked towards it, arm in arm.

Only a few more hours and Roxie would be celebrating with her boyfriend. He wasn't going to get much sleep tonight.

*

Jack Palmer returned to his room, hoping that Roxie be there. He pulled a face when she wasn't. Nor had Jenn had been in touch. What the heck was she up to? He decided to head back to the bar, in the unlikely event that Izzy was still there. He had a couple more questions about Nikky Volkov to ask.

It was busier there now, but Isobel was nowhere to be found. He ordered a drink and placed his ghosted mobile on the small round table in front of him. Surely Nikky Volkov would use it again after his clandestine meeting?

His detective's mind went to work, casing the details once more. There were two aspects, the phone call and the meeting. He started by thinking about the brief conversation he'd overheard on the phone, picking it apart. "The Sheikh has told you what's required of you?"

He replayed the words in his head time and time again. The Sheikh. The Sheikh. Which Sheikh? Whoever it was, it was someone Nikky Volkov had a close connection too. He'd sent the Arab to meet Volkov, after all. To carry out the Russian's instructions.

Wait a minute...

They already knew that someone was covering up the real facts of the Yamamura murder. That person had to be a senior member of the police, but acting under whose instructions? Someone high up in Dubai society. A Sheikh? That meant he and Volkov had a common interest. Business partners? That had to be it.

What if Tony Yamamura had interfered with that arrangement? Could that be why he'd been killed?

Evidence had been planted to set Vladimir Kazakov up as the killer. To indicate they'd shot one another as the result of gambling debts. But it hadn't been Kazakov's body that had been found. It was someone called Sergii Baranov. This was all making sense now.

What if Volkov had intended for Baranov to kill Kazakov? Every aspect of the story would have checked out if that was the case.

But Kazakov had turned the tables somehow...?

And now he'd come looking for Volkov. Yes. That was it. Kazakov had killed Boris, his bodyguard. Sending a message? That's why Volkov had met the Arab at the HeatWave bar. The guy was being briefed. They intended to take him Kazakov out before he could get to Volkov.

"Well, hello, sexy," a female voice said from behind him, bringing him out of his thoughts.

She placed two cocktails on the small round table as she slipped into the seat beside him.

"I bought you a drink," Jade said, looking as hot as ever in a yellow blouse. It was open to the waist, exposing her heavy cleavage spilling over an animal print bra. "It's a peace offering. I'd like us to be friends, rather than enemies."