Second Chance: A Christian Romance (Royals Book 2)

by Nicole Taylor

  SECOND CHANCE

  Nicole Taylor

  Second Chance

  Copyright © 2016 by Nicole Taylor

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be produced or transmitted in any form or by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other – except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, organizations, places, locales or to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

  Scriptures taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com The “NIV” and “New International Version” are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™

  Cover design by James, GoOnWrite.com

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  A fashion show?!

  Robert Cortelli could not get over the fact that his agent, Sandy Brown, had just asked him to model for a fashion show.

  And to think, the day had begun with such promise. The wee hours of that morning had found him in the swing of the surprise birthday celebration his closest friends, Corey Elsom, Matt Feldman and Brian Brooks, had thrown for him at Los Angeles’ latest hot spot, Sundown Club. Then he’d been awoken from a deep slumber after midday by a courier delivering a script from Sandy, entitled The Asylum.

  Out of curiosity, he’d turned to the first page of the document with the intention of only reading the opening lines. Those few lines had quickly become several scenes.

  The story was mesmerizing. From the outset, the characters had swept him up and captivated his emotions. He had been looking for that one role to propel him into the stratosphere. The Asylum could be the one.

  Then Sandy had called.

  “Robert, just checking in to make sure you got the script,” he’d said.

  “Sandy, man, this script is really good.”

  “I knew you’d love it.”

  Robert had never been one to let grass grow under his feet, so he’d cut right to the chase.

  “I want the lead role. When can I audition?”

  “After Don Juan, you don’t have to worry about auditioning. The producers already like you for the lead role. We’ll need to find out how much they’re willing to pay to get you. Auditioning days are likely a thing of the past for you. You, my friend, are one of the hottest actors out there right now. From henceforth, as long as you’re my client, you can be assured that you’ll only be having meetings to negotiate terms.”

  For a moment, Robert had felt humbled. Wasn’t this what he had been working towards ever since he had left the University of California acting school four years earlier? Becoming a leading man in his own right, gaining recognition for more than just his looks or being the son of legendary Italian actor Michael Cortelli. The mere fact that the producers would want him for this role, even though he had never done a psychodrama like The Asylum, had to mean they had either seen something in his previous performances to convince them he was capable or it was divine intervention. Maybe it was the latter. Who knew? He kissed the crucifix which hung on the chain around his neck just in case.

  “Yes, it is. By the way, Assante’s creative director called. They want to shoot that commercial in Naples, as well as some stills for the new fragrance. What’s your schedule like for the next few weeks?”

  “Check that with Anna, but remember, I’m still promoting Train Crash so they’ll have to work around that,” Robert said.

  “Sure. One more thing...”

  And that was when Sandy said it, “…seeing as how you’re the new face for the menswear line, Assante wants you to make an appearance at L.A. Fashion Week.”

  “What do you mean ‘an appearance’?”

  “Walking the runway.”

  “What! Are you out of your mind?”

  “Bobby, just one short appearance, that’s all. Besides, it’s in your contract. You don’t have a choice.”

  Robert didn’t answer for a few minutes as he clenched and unclenched his fist in an attempt to keep his cool.

  “I distinctly remember asking you if I was going to have to actually model the clothes and you assured me all that was involved was posing for photographs. I can deal with commercials and the photo shoots for the ad campaigns. But this! Walking a catwalk. I am a serious actor, Sandy, not some pretty boy.”

  “Will you relax? It’s not going to make you any less manly if that’s what you fear. They want to launch you as the new face for the menswear line with this runway appearance. The plan is that the ad campaign will roll out immediately after that. You’ll be escorting one of the models down the catwalk for the womenswear show’s finale and then you’ll return with Assante when he makes his appearance at the end. That’s what, not even twenty minutes work for fifty grand. I don’t think that’s a bad deal at all.”

  No, Sandy wouldn’t consider it a bad deal since he received ten percent of every cent Robert made.

  “When is it?” Robert ground out.

  “Next Wednesday. You just have to show up, walk the model down the runway, pose for a few photo ops at the end, and then you can leave. Painless.”

  Robert expelled a short, annoyed breath.

  “You know, I had my misgivings about this business from the start and I allowed you to convince me it would be good for my career. But I can’t see how modeling clothes can bode well for my image. I may be locked into this right now but as soon as this contract is over I’m through. Do you hear me, Sandy? Finished. Finito.”

  “Fine, Bobby. It’s like I told you from the start, we would just do a contract for the year and include an option to renew. No biggie. In life you try stuff; see how it suits you. But I’ve gotta tell you it hasn’t been as bad as you make out. Being Assante’s brand ambassador will rake in millions of dough for you while increasing your visibility. There’s a cultural obsession with celebrities in America, in fact across the western world, right now. People can’t seem to get enough of their favorite stars no matter what they’re up to. It’s a win-win situation. Assante can use your huge fan base across the world to get maximum attention for their products while you apply minimum effort and just use your God-given good looks to rake in the moolah.”

  “I accept that it’s lucrative, Sandy. I’m not disputing that. My concern is distracting people from my acting ability. I’m a serious actor. I don’t want to be eye candy.”

  “I’m sorry to break it to you, Bobby. You can’t help but be eye candy.”

  ~*~*~*~

  “Isn’t he handsome?” Heather Lawrence sighed as
she waved the magazine under Dana Dickson’s nose.

  Dana opened one eye and then the other to take in the male actor in the movie poster and wrinkled her nose. Another egoistical movie star. Just what the world needed.

  “He’s okay,” she said and closed her eyes again.

  “Okay?!” Heather fanned with the magazine and dropped into the seat opposite Dana. “Are you dead?”

  Dana snorted. “Don’t get distracted. Weren’t you looking for the article Vogue did on you?”

  They were in Dana’s suite at the Beverly Hills Hotel. She had flown in that same day from France, fresh from Paris Fashion Week to model for L.A. Fashion Week. It had been normal for her in the early days to do both fashion events back-to-back, but it was grueling. And because of her current top model position she found she had more flexibility. However, she had made the effort to be there because the iconic fashion designer Giuseppe Assante had asked her to model his show stopper. Assante had been the one to boost her career bookings when he announced her as ‘The Body’ after she’d modeled for his show back in Milan three years ago, so she owed him.

  She was also there to support her friend, Heather Lawrence, who was launching her fall and winter collections in Los Angeles for the first time and needed a high profile model like Dana to get more press coverage for her show. Heather had just opened a store in Beverly Hills in preparation for her relocation from Paris to her native city later that year.

  Quickly flipping through the pages of the magazine, Heather exclaimed triumphantly, “Oh, here it is.” She passed the magazine to Dana.

  Dana dutifully held the magazine over her head and read the article as Heather finished her lunch.

  “So, I hear you’ll be wearing the feature gown at the Assante show this week,” Heather said.

  Dana lowered the magazine and turned her head to meet her friend’s gaze. She had first met Heather in Paris weeks after she’d arrived fresh from high school graduation. Heather had been a fledgling designer at the time, and Dana had auditioned for one of her shows. Like Assante, Heather had played a role in launching her career by consistently choosing her to model her clothes. In short order, the two became close friends.

  “That’s right and I will be modeling with a mystery actor I’ve been told,” Dana said.

  “Any idea who he is?” Heather asked around a mouthful of mixed greens.

  She was probably on a new diet, Dana thought. Heather was always trying to lose the proverbial ten pounds. Dana could never convince her that she looked amazing with her soft curves. And were it not for the fact that Heather barely reached five feet two inches tall, she probably could have been a model as well. With her smooth café au lait complexion, sparkling light brown eyes and bouncy black curls she was a beauty.

  There were moments Dana wished she could have the luxury of a softer look too, instead of having to maintain such a strict diet and exercise regimen to be the perfect mannequin. But those ponderings were fleeting. Since the age of sixteen when she was discovered by an Elite model scout, she had accepted that there was little room for soft curves in the world of high fashion. Even at five feet eleven inches and wearing a size four, there were still those designers who claimed she wasn’t skinny enough to model their clothes. Fortunately, they were in the vast minority.

  “Nope. They’re keeping it very hush-hush. Apparently, this same actor will be the face of Assante Menswear for a year.”

  “Aren’t you in the least bit curious as to who he is?” Heather asked.

  “They are all the same, Heather. I know firsthand what these Hollywood types are like, remember? All ego. You’ve met one, you’ve met them all. I’m being paid to model with him and that’s what I’ll do.”

  Dana’s voice floated above the magazine as something in the article caught her eye.

  “Hey, what’s this comment about wanting real women, not just model types, to be able to wear your clothes? Are you insinuating that I’m made of plastic?”

  ~*~*~*~

  There was a flurry of activity in the dressing room as dressers worked frantically while stepping around hairstylists and makeup artists, to ensure models got down the runway on time for the last lap of the Assante show.

  Dana’s dresser gushed, “You look amazing. This blue matches your eyes perfectly. No wonder Assante chose you to model the showstopper.”

  Dana smiled politely in response. Even though she was used to adulation because of her looks, she still struggled with accepting her beauty as a blessing and not a curse. Yes, being one of the ‘beautiful people’ had made her life easy. She had walked into a career as a model in high school and had never looked back. She was now queen of the modeling world, but her beauty came with a hefty price.

  From as early as she could remember her looks had attracted the attention of men. Attention she often had to fight off, figuratively and sometimes literally. Then there were those men who wanted to date her because they wanted a trophy on their arm, not too concerned with what was going on between her ears. Consequently, she had grown wary of romantic relationships.

  Just then, the fashion show director, Randy, appeared.

  “Dana, you’re up.”

  Dana followed him down the short corridor which ended just outside the showroom.

  “Wait here. The actor is on his way. You guys will move off when the next song begins to play.”

  Randy’s gaze shifted past her. “Oh, here you are! The man of the moment.”

  Dana turned around to see who he was speaking to.

  Her breath almost stopped. That photo in Heather’s Vogue Magazine, as good as it was, had not done him justice. With one look she took it all in, the thick black hair, the sexy espresso eyes, the strong jaw and the perfect cupid’s bow of a mouth. Dead gorgeous, she thought with an unexpected and unwelcome appreciation.

  They were quickly introduced. He gave her a disarming smile and shook her hand. She gave him what she hoped resembled a small smile but couldn’t be sure if her lips had moved. She felt frozen in time.

  “So…it’s you and me huh?” he asked in a deep, gravelly voice that inexplicably raised goose bumps on her skin.

  “Looks that way. So, you’re the new face of the menswear line?”

  Goodness, was that high-pitched squeak of a voice hers? She cleared her throat. She was used to meeting good looking men. Why was this particular one having such an unnerving effect?

  “Yep. Any quick modeling tips you want to share?” he said with a slight smile.

  He was tall, she would guess around six feet and three or four inches, and the way the tuxedo fit his lean, yet muscular, physique made it almost impossible to look away.

  She wasn’t being insincere, then, when she blurted out, “Nah, your presence alone will be enough for the ladies, I’m sure.”

  Before he could respond, Feelin’ Good began to play. He offered her his hand. She hesitated for a moment and then slid her hand into his.

  She gasped as what felt like static electricity passed between them. Their eyes met and she saw surprise reflected in his as if he’d felt it too!

  When they rounded the corner, hand in hand, they stepped into a world of bright lights, the flash of bulbs, and pandemonium from the crowd. Dana knew that the loud claps and cheers had nothing to do with her or the clothes and everything to do with Robert Cortelli, the mystery celebrity who was the new face of Assante’s menswear line.

  They separated and she expertly went through her paces but was always conscious of him. What tips had he needed? The guy was a natural at this. He had the stride down pat. And when they reached the end of the runway he reached for her hand again and, to her surprise, twirled her around. Dana felt a giddy excitement course through her, and she was laughing when she stopped against his chest. Then he gently dipped her to more applause.

  When he straightened with her in his arms, their faces were inches from each other. And before Dana could suspect his intention Robert Cortelli leaned in and kissed her.

  Ch
apter 2

  The kiss was over before Dana could even react. She was so stunned she had no recollection afterward of them walking back up the runway.

  But the moment they were out of sight it was as if Dana had been released from a spell. Her shock was replaced with searing anger.

  Assante stood in the wings clapping with some of the other backstage crew. “That was magnifico. Let’s make the final walk together.”

  Dana grabbed Robert’s arm. “What was that?”

  He looked around at her in surprise and then shrugged.

  “I guess I fell into character, imagined I was playing a role.”

  “But you kissed me.”

  He looked puzzled. “Okay. Was that a problem?”

  “You bet it was a problem! You can’t just grab me and kiss me. Who do you think you are?” She was barely able to get the words out. Every cell in her body was quaking with anger.

  A black eyebrow climbed and his reply was delivered with an autocratic coolness that instantly made her feel as though he was the Lord of the Manor and she was the impertinent scullery maid.

  “Listen, Dana, is it? The kiss meant nothing. It was part of the performance. Besides, I’m sure that was tame compared to what you models do for a living.”

  Dana sucked in a sharp breath and connected her open palm to Robert Cortelli’s face with such force his head snapped to a side.

  Shock covered his face. When he looked back at her, though, his eyes were blazing with anger. She observed how a muscle worked in his jaw and his chest rose and fell.

  “What is this about?” Assante asked. Confusion and annoyance were reflected in his voice.

  Dana rounded on him. “Don’t you ever ask me to model with this jerk again!”

  As she took angry strides towards the dressing room, she heard Cortelli laugh and say, “Women! You can’t live with ‘em. You can’t shoot ‘em. I’ll walk back in with you, Giuseppe. We Italians have to stick together.”