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And yet she hadn’t been able to when it had
mattered most!
                 The
fangs of guilt eating at her faded away as they stepped into the limelight.
Even in his presence, she still felt like a rare bird in a cage, photographed
and ogled endlessly. Being out among the masses was vastly different from a
shoot where it was just her and the lens. When she was in control.
                 She’d
never liked this side of her career. This star worship that was as shallow and
fake as the artificial minilights twinkling above them.
                 Before
they reached the elevators, she saw the people clustered in the lobby waiting.
An old panic began bubbling inside her and she immediately slowed, her gaze
searching for another means to avoid this crush.
                 His
hand came up to rest at the small of her back. “Take a breath, meu amor.”
                 She
did, then another longer, deeper one. “I don’t see anyone I know, at least not
personally.”
                 There
was no shortage of celebrities waiting in their finery for the elevator. Though
she was comfortable strutting her stuff in front of a camera, she hated
competing one-on-one with her peers face-to-face!
                 In
her eyes, she always came up lacking. She was still the chubby girl whom her
mother had taken in hand and had taught how to rid herself of weight. Who’d
learned a dangerous lesson that had nearly taken her life.
                 “This
way,” Rafael said, herding her to the last elevator on the left where three men
and an elegant woman waited.
                 She
didn’t know them, but it was clear by their welcoming expressions that they
knew Rafael well. It was the first time that she could recall someone
recognizing him before her and the feeling was startling. Almost freeing.
                 “Good
to see you, Rafael,” the older of the men said as he extended his hand. “The
new phones look fantastic in the gift bags. Before the festival is over,
everyone will be clambering for one of them.”
                 Rafael
smiled as he shook hands with the man. “I certainly hope so. Please, allow me
to introduce my wife, Leila Santiago. Leila, this is the producer of Bastion 9.”
                 Introductions
were quickly made, and Leila discovered the woman was the producer’s wife. The
other gentleman was the writer, having just won an award for his original
script on a previous movie.
                 “Our
daughter is a true fan of yours,” the woman said, surprising Leila. “She dreams
of being a model one day and you are the woman she’s determined to emulate.”
                 “I
wish her much success,” Leila said. And none of the heartache.
                 She
fervently hoped that the girl was blessed with a body that remained lithe. That
she avoided the pitfalls that had nearly cost Leila her life. That if she did
fail, she would be able to find help quickly at a place like her private
clinic, where Leila had already given aide to countless other young girls.
                 The
elevator doors opened and they trooped into the waiting car. Before others
could crowd in behind them, she saw Rafael punch the button to close the doors.
                 She
flashed him a grateful smile which he acknowledged with a nod and wink that did
odd things to her insides and calmed her as none of her inner talks could. If
only he could shut out the rest of the world so easily.
                 “We
have an exciting surprise lined up at the party,” the producer said. “You must
make an effort to be there at the launch of it.”
                 “Of
course,” Rafael said before she could say a word. “We wouldn’t dream of missing
it.”
                 She
would. She’d prefer a night alone with her husband. She wanted to unburden