stroking one finger down Anna’s jawline and making her shiver in the process. ‘Women in their late thirties, early forties who think they are no longer sexy or maybe they have never felt that way. I see it in the slump of your shoulders that you do not feel desired. You have not learned that sex comes from within. I would guess that others have not made you feel very good about yourself. I am right, of course. You think that life has forgotten you.’ He took a strand of her dull brown hair and let it fall through his fingers.
Anna felt the tears making their way up to her eyeballs and gulped them down. That small gesture in her throat was all Vladimir Darq needed to see to know he was correct in his assumptions. Not that he had had any doubt. He had too much confidence in his intuition for that.
Anna puffed out her cheeks. Was it so obvious she was an unloved reject with about as much spark as a spent match in a canal, even to a total stranger across two railway lines? Boy, she must be a total minger.
‘No matter. I can transform you,’ whispered Vladmir Darq. His voice was like a velvet caress. ‘I can make you feel beautiful. I can change your life in less than eight weeks. And you will inspire other women like you to be beautiful. You will be the first of my beautiful Darq women.’
‘Beautiful?’ said Anna with a dry snort of laughter. The word had never been applied to her. No one had ever said; ‘Anna Brightside, you are beautiful.’ Or lovely, or pretty for that matter. In her teenage days, she lost count of the times she had got into conversations with gorgeous guys, only to realize halfway through that they were actually trying to get to her much prettier friend Caroline, with the dimples to die for and eyes like pools of treacle. In her twenties, she drew even less male attention, if that was possible, despite her flawless skin and hair the colour of autumn. Then, in her thirties, she met Tony, with his smooth banter and vociferous sexual appetite. Being the object of his lust had lifted her to some state of desirability. Until he dropped her for Miss Pert-Tits, of course. And now here was a bloke dressed up as a vampire telling her that he had magic underwear that would make her beautiful. At thirty-nine? After being as sexually alluring as magnolia paint all her life! Had he lost his guide dog? Or was he Care in the Community?
‘I’m having trouble believing all this,’ began Anna, confusion pulling her brows together. ‘I mean, this is Barnsley and I’m in a train station. And you say you’re Vladimir Darq and want to put me on the telly? I’m beginning to think I’m still on the floor passed out and this is a dream.’ Even more so because every time his lips parted, she saw a hint of fangs in his teeth-line.
‘What is your name, please?’
‘Anna. Anna Brightside.’
‘Then please, Anna Brightside, you think it over,’ he said. ‘Look me up on the worldwide web and see that I am in good faith.’ He leaned in extra close and said in a voice that brooked no debate, ‘We start filming on Saturday May ninth. You will do this with me.’
‘Oh will I?’ said Anna. Cocky git.
‘Yes, you will, and I will expect your call soon to confirm,’ said Vladimir Darq. ‘It is soarta – fate – that we have met. Soarta !’ And before Anna could say another word, he had stood, lifted up her hand, kissed the back of it, and clicked his heels together like Kaiser Wilhelm. Then he was gone in a swirl of black coat.
‘Bloody hell,’ said Anna. She couldn’t think of anything else to say that better fitted the moment.
Chapter 19
Calum had managed to surpass himself: he delivered a hat-trick. Dawn had come in from work to find that her two-pound coin pot had been raided and the Easter egg from Thornton’s she’d had iced with the words ‘Foxy Fiancé’ was half-eaten on the kitchen work surface. Calum had obviously found them both secreted at the bottom of the wardrobe. She felt
Anna felt the tears making their way up to her eyeballs and gulped them down. That small gesture in her throat was all Vladimir Darq needed to see to know he was correct in his assumptions. Not that he had had any doubt. He had too much confidence in his intuition for that.
Anna puffed out her cheeks. Was it so obvious she was an unloved reject with about as much spark as a spent match in a canal, even to a total stranger across two railway lines? Boy, she must be a total minger.
‘No matter. I can transform you,’ whispered Vladmir Darq. His voice was like a velvet caress. ‘I can make you feel beautiful. I can change your life in less than eight weeks. And you will inspire other women like you to be beautiful. You will be the first of my beautiful Darq women.’
‘Beautiful?’ said Anna with a dry snort of laughter. The word had never been applied to her. No one had ever said; ‘Anna Brightside, you are beautiful.’ Or lovely, or pretty for that matter. In her teenage days, she lost count of the times she had got into conversations with gorgeous guys, only to realize halfway through that they were actually trying to get to her much prettier friend Caroline, with the dimples to die for and eyes like pools of treacle. In her twenties, she drew even less male attention, if that was possible, despite her flawless skin and hair the colour of autumn. Then, in her thirties, she met Tony, with his smooth banter and vociferous sexual appetite. Being the object of his lust had lifted her to some state of desirability. Until he dropped her for Miss Pert-Tits, of course. And now here was a bloke dressed up as a vampire telling her that he had magic underwear that would make her beautiful. At thirty-nine? After being as sexually alluring as magnolia paint all her life! Had he lost his guide dog? Or was he Care in the Community?
‘I’m having trouble believing all this,’ began Anna, confusion pulling her brows together. ‘I mean, this is Barnsley and I’m in a train station. And you say you’re Vladimir Darq and want to put me on the telly? I’m beginning to think I’m still on the floor passed out and this is a dream.’ Even more so because every time his lips parted, she saw a hint of fangs in his teeth-line.
‘What is your name, please?’
‘Anna. Anna Brightside.’
‘Then please, Anna Brightside, you think it over,’ he said. ‘Look me up on the worldwide web and see that I am in good faith.’ He leaned in extra close and said in a voice that brooked no debate, ‘We start filming on Saturday May ninth. You will do this with me.’
‘Oh will I?’ said Anna. Cocky git.
‘Yes, you will, and I will expect your call soon to confirm,’ said Vladimir Darq. ‘It is soarta – fate – that we have met. Soarta !’ And before Anna could say another word, he had stood, lifted up her hand, kissed the back of it, and clicked his heels together like Kaiser Wilhelm. Then he was gone in a swirl of black coat.
‘Bloody hell,’ said Anna. She couldn’t think of anything else to say that better fitted the moment.
Chapter 19
Calum had managed to surpass himself: he delivered a hat-trick. Dawn had come in from work to find that her two-pound coin pot had been raided and the Easter egg from Thornton’s she’d had iced with the words ‘Foxy Fiancé’ was half-eaten on the kitchen work surface. Calum had obviously found them both secreted at the bottom of the wardrobe. She felt
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