Heather, with no other way out, stumbled after the other models, and before she knew it, the curtain was behind her and she was being blinded by the lights of the stage. She moved forward, helplessly following the model in front of her. She tried to remember Shania's advice. She couldn't see the audience very well through the lights; she just caught glimpses., so she focused her eyes on the end of the runway and concentrated on not falling over.
Her shoulders back, she thought about cooking, about the easy confidence she felt in front of an oven. If she could just pretend she was there instead of in a heavy gown that weighed her down and the impossible, beautiful shoes on which she wobbled with hundreds of eyes staring at her—
She reached the end of the catwalk, and for a moment the lights were behind her and she could see the audience. She paused as the other models had, her heart racing as she finally saw all the faces turned toward her, watching and judging. Time seemed to stop, caught between her frantic heartbeats.
Then she saw him. His eyes met hers through the blinding lights, and Heather was certain he was looking at her, not the dress or the shoes or anything else. He was matching her stare directly. The man was one of the most beautiful people she'd ever seen. His skin was dark, sun-kissed olive, but his eyes were a startling, piercing green, like an oasis at the heart of a desert or an emerald set in bronze. His features had a sculpted, aristocratic quality, as though he'd been carved rather than born.
Most importantly, there was no judgment in those eyes, not an ounce of cruelty. Rather, they seemed to be silently encouraging her. For a moment, she smiled at him, grateful though baffled by her own behavior.
Then time was moving again and she realized she'd lingered too long at the end of the stage. She needed to move on so they could begin the second part of the show. She reluctantly broke eye contact with the beautiful stranger, turning back to the stage. She stumbled as she turned, nearly falling, and she felt her skin prickle with embarrassment as she recovered and tried to continue as though nothing had happened. She felt the man's eyes on her back and couldn't help thinking that she'd disappointed him.
"You did great!" Shania cheered as Heather fell back through the curtain into the staging area.
"I tripped," Heather said, mortified.
"A minor slip up. Barely noticeable," Shania assured her. "You looked amazing. I was watching through the monitors. That smile at the end of the runway! So genuine! Everyone loved it. Now hurry. We need to get you into your next dress!"
There was no time to rest, as Heather was herded straight into the changing room and then back into hair and makeup. The second dress was shorter, more modern, and accompanied by another pair of gorgeous, impossible-to-walk-in shoes. Once again, she was pushed out onto the runway at the end of a train of other girls. She walked more confidently this time, having done it before. At the end of the runway, she caught herself looking for the green-eyed man, scanning the faces for him. Had he left? She couldn't find him.
She finished her walk feeling strangely disappointed only for Shania to usher her into a third and final evening gown. This one had the long, slinky, draping quality of an opera gown, and the shoes were the most magnificent and impossible to wear yet. They were an architectural dream, a baroque masterpiece of curling metal flourishes, a technical and artistic achievement that hurt Heather's feet even to look at.
Sure enough, all those beautiful flourishes stabbed directly into her skin as soon as she was standing in them. She reminded herself that it was only for a few feet. She'd experienced the wonders of natural childbirth. Wearing a pair of impractical shoes for a few minutes had nothing on that. She squared her shoulders and tried not to flinch with every agonizing step as she followed the other models down the runway.
She told herself she wouldn't look for him this time; she needed to concentrate on walking. Maneuvering in this gown would have been difficult enough without the shoes. It was so tight she could barely breathe, and she knew if she moved wrong the top was going to slip down. The train was also a constant threat as it tried to tangle with the impossible shoes. And yet, at the end of the catwalk, her eyes searched the crowd anyway.
Her heart leaped into her throat when she caught a flash of green. There he was, and he was smiling back at her. His smile was charmingly crooked, full of amusement, like he knew she was looking for him and had decided to indulge her. He waved. Heather almost laughed and had to contain herself. She turned quickly to hurry away as the show reached its crescendo.
She was put back in the first dress and led out onto the stage with the other models for a photo op finale, but she barely noticed, as she was still strangely giddy. At last, she followed the other women backstage. As they collapsed in chairs and on couches and any other flat surface, rapidly disrobing with zero shame as they complained loudly about the state of their feet, she realized it was over.
Chloe barreled toward her and collided with her waist, hugging her tightly enough to compete with the dress. Shania was right behind her with an equally crushing hug.
"I never knew you were so pretty!" Chloe said. "You're the most beautiful woman in the world!"
"You were astounding, Heather!" Shania gushed. "Truly remarkable for an amateur! I only expected you to fill the spot, but to be honest, I think you gave the original girl a run for her money!"
Heather laughed, looking away. "Don’t be silly. I barely held it together. And I still slipped in that first walk."
"Everyone slips," Shania insisted. "It happens every show. The point is that no one out there would ever guess you haven't been doing this all your life. The designer wants to talk to you too!"
"The designer?" Heather turned pale. "But I'm not—"
"Mom, Mom, come look at the video!" Chloe tugged on Heather's arm, dragging her toward the monitors where the other models were replaying the footage of the walk, critiquing their own performances.
Heather followed Chloe obediently, her eyes widening when she saw herself gliding down the stage. Maybe it was just the clothes and makeup, but she could hardly recognize herself. She looked confident and dazzlingly beautiful. She smiled at the end of the catwalk, and, though Heather knew it was just an embarrassed grin at the man in the audience, from here it looked divine, beatific. For the first time in a long time, Heather felt genuinely beautiful.
She stepped back, trying to shake it off, and looked around for Shania.
"I need to get back to my table," she said. "Now that the show’s over, people are going to be lining up again."
"I'll find her!" Chloe said, letting go of Heather's hand and running off.
"Chloe, wait!" Heather called after her, but she couldn't run in the dress, and Chloe was already gone. Heather sighed impatiently and gave up. She'd talk to Chloe about it later.
"Excuse me?"
A low, warm voice spoke behind her, and Heather turned, surprised. Her heart stopped as swiftly as though it had been caught by a fist. The green-eyed man was standing in front of her, smiling politely as she scrambled to gather her wits.
"Hello," she stammered, at a loss.
"Hello," he repeated. That devilish smile made his eyes light up in a way that made Heather think her heart might never beat again. "I am Altair Al-Enzi."
There was a pause, as though he was waiting for her to say something. Heather stared, frozen solid.
"I designed the shoes," he said, indicating the beautiful torture devices Heather was currently holding in her left hand, having taken them off as quickly as she could.
"Oh!" Heather finally broke from her paralysis and offered a hand to shake. "Oh, my goodness. It's an honor. They're beautiful shoes, sir."
"It's Sheikh actually," he said.
"Pardon?" Heather, a bit blindsided, could only blink at him.
"Sheikh, not sir," he explained patiently, not seeming bothered that she hadn't known. "I am a prince of Dar-Saila, brother of the reigning Sheikh, so my title is also Sheikh."
"Forgive me." Heather felt her face heating with embarrassment. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Sheikh Altair. I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"No apology is necessary," he said with a small laugh, looking away. "It would have been strange if you had recognized my title and not my name."
"I'm kind of new to all this," Heather confessed. "I've never really followed designers before. Your shoes are beautiful, though. I've never seen anything like them."
"Thank you," Altair said graciously, taking the shoes from her to turn them over in his hands thoughtfully. "I have been working on this collection for a long time."
"They're amazing," Heather said. "A bit impractical, though."
Altair raised an eyebrow and then laughed.
"Art usually is," he said. "The commercial version will be more stripped down and comfortable. But for the runway, the concept is the first priority, always."
Heather supposed she understood. After all, haute cuisine was hardly practical. It wasn’t filling and was occasionally less than pleasant to eat. When it came to art, it was the story you told, the feelings and thoughts you evoked, that mattered. Still, wouldn't it have been nice if art could have been enjoyable to consume as well?
"I was very pleased with your work this evening," Altair said, setting the shoes aside. "I have another engagement here in the city later this evening. Would you consider modeling for it? You would be well compensated of course. I know two events in a single night is a lot to ask."
"Of course." Heather heard the words leaving her mouth before she even realized she was agreeing. "I would love to."
Heather the pushover strikes again, she thought. What was she thinking? She wasn't a model!
"Wonderful!" Altair's dazzling smile pushed all ideas of backtracking out of her mind. How could she refuse him when he was looking at her like that?
"I'll go and arrange things while you change," he said, taking her hands in his own. "Meet me out front when you're ready."
Heather nodded, still a little stunned, and he surprised her by pressing a brief, warm kiss to the back of her fingers before he released her hand and hurried away. Heather brought the hand he'd kissed to her cheek, dazed.
"There you are!"
Shania came hurrying through the crowd, holding Chloe's hand.
"You haven't changed yet?" she said, surprised. "I would have thought you'd be tearing your way out of those clothes to get back to your work."
"I was talking to the designer," Heather said, still feeling more than a little lightheaded.
"The Sheikh?" Shania stared at her.
"He wants me to model for another event he's having tonight," Heather said, stumbling over to a chair and sitting down slowly, like she might just float away if she wasn't careful.
"Sheikh Altair?" Shania squeaked, looking as overwhelmed as Heather felt. "He's having a private event uptown tonight for some of the biggest designers in the industry! This is an opportunity most models could only dream of! You said yes, right?"
"Yes." Heather tipped her head back against the couch and closed her eyes, thinking she might faint. "I can't do this."
"What's a sheikh?" Chloe asked Shania, looking intrigued.
"It's a title," Shania explained. "Like a king or a prince."
"Mommy's gonna meet a prince?" Chloe squealed.
"I can't!" Heather repeated, groaning. "I'm not a model! I should never have agreed to it!"
"Too late now!" Shania said cheerfully. "The Sheikh himself asked for you in person! That's incredible!"
"What about my job?" Heather asked. "What about Chloe?"
"Renee and Desmond have the food situation handled," Shania said. "I just checked on them. You planned everything so thoroughly that the table is running like a well-oiled machine. I loaned them one of my guys to wash dishes and run errands, and there hasn't been a single hiccup."
"Nana's probably finished bridge by now!" Chloe said. "She could come and get me. Or you could take me with you."
She threw in some puppy dog eyes, but Heather was too overwhelmed for them to be effective.
"I'll call Linda for you," Shania said. "You get changed, and not back into those chef's whites. I'll tell the stylists to put something together for you. Just relax and try to have a good time. This is a fantastic opportunity!"
Heather groaned miserably, but Chloe was already handing Shania her phone to call Linda. Feeling like she'd stumbled into the strangest fairy tale ever, Heather let the assistants help her out of her dress and into a more casual outfit. The outfit, a loose burgundy blouse and black tailored trousers under a short, stylish jacket, was streetwear, but it was also clearly something left over from a previous show. Heather had never worn anything this fashionable in her life.
"Stay with Shania and don't get in any trouble until Nana gets here," she told Chloe, hugging her good-bye.
"I'll be good," Chloe promised. "You just focus on looking gorgeous for the Sheikh!"
"Chloe." Heather covered her face with her hand.
"I'm not saying you should marry a guy I've never met," Chloe went on, "but I really want to be a princess."
Heather laughed. "Don't get your hopes up. It's a job, not a date."
"People fall in love at work all the time!" Chloe said. "Just don't blow it if you get the chance. Okay?"
"Okay." Heather rolled her eyes, standing up. "I love you. Be good!"
"I will," Chloe said as Heather hurried away. "I love you too!"