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wanted to escape as much as I did.”
    Cass smiled. “Is this really Lucas Thorne, king of grand entrances and dramatic coats?”
    His grin was lopsided and sweet. “That’s just a front Oliver likes me to put on.”
    “Your agent?”
    Lucas nodded. “Truth be told, I feel a bit of a berk sometimes.”
    “Well don’t. It was a very impressive performance.”
    “Thanks,” he said with that coy grin she was starting to find endearing. “Champagne?” he added, holding up the bottle.
    Just one more she thought as he refilled her glass, trying not to think about the apoplexy Brodie would be working himself up into about her drinking so heavily on the job, but this was her chance to talk to Lucas in private and she wasn’t going to waste it. That was what she told herself anyway.
    Lucas poured himself a glass then he stood beside her, gazing out into the distance. There wasn’t much to see except a small darkened lawned area and a wall.
    “Won’t your public be missing you?” she said.
    “It’s good to keep them waiting sometimes and I need a break.”
    “You don’t enjoy your celebrity?”
    He turned to face her, leaning against the balcony railing. “No, not really. I find events like this a trial.”
    “Surely you’re used to it by now?”
    “I thought I would be but that never happened. I just feel awkward and uncomfortable.”
    This was a revelation to Cass. The theatrical, dramatic Lucas Thorne was actually shy. It was dark outside but she was certain he was blushing. Even as he spoke he sounded uncertain of himself, as though afraid she would disagree with him.
    “Well there’s a shock. So do you approach the models you use?”
    “Models? Oh, for the faces. Well, I spot them then either me or Oliver makes the approach.”
    “Has Oliver been with you long?”
    “Since the start of my career. He was the one who spotted my abilities in the first place after years of struggling to get noticed. I owe him a lot.”
    “Where do you find your models?”
    “Out and about. The majority are modelled on homeless people, they’re always willing to let me take casts in exchange for money.”
    So she’d been right. Brodie was wrong. He wasn’t going to take too kindly to that, Brodie hated being wrong.
    “And the voices?” she said.
    “Actors. Sometimes my models are drunk or high on drugs and I can’t get them to say what I need them to say.”
    “Sorry, you must be sick of talking about your work.”
    “Actually I love it, when it’s just one to one, like we’re talking now,” he said with another shy smile. “I enjoy talking about the technical aspects but I could do without all the adulation. I find it embarrassing.”
    “Okay. So what’s your favourite film?”
    “That’s a sudden deviation in topic.”
    “It is but I thought you’d find it refreshing.”
    “Actually it is. No one’s ever asked me that before, all people want to talk about is my work.” He paused to think before saying, “officially my favourite film is The English Patient but unofficially it’s Star Wars.”
    “Which one?”
    “All of them. It’s impossible to choose between them.”
    “So you’re a sci-fi geek?”
    “To some extent. You?”
    “Officially Wuthering Heights.”
    “And unofficially?”
    “Shrek,” she replied, making him laugh.
    “So what do you do Cass?”
    Now this was an awkward question. She didn’t think he was what Brodie thought he was but telling him the truth was absolutely against the rules. “I work for a consultancy agency.”
    “Doing what exactly?”
    “Strategy and job changing. It’s not very exciting, especially in comparison to being a famous artist,” she said dismissively, eager to turn the conversation back onto him. “Do you have a partner?”
    “No,” he said shyly. “Do you?”
    “Nope. Completely single,” she smiled.
    “That can’t be right, you’re so beautiful.”
    He looked away after he’d said this, turning his attention to the ground,