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her
soul. But it would have to wait.
                 The
elevator doors whooshed open and she pushed her way out, eager to get away from
strangers. To catch a breath that wasn’t laced with the spicy scent that was
uniquely Rafael’s.
                 But
she got no more than three steps before he was at her side. “Are you all right?”
                 “You
know I dislike small closed spaces,” she said.
                 “As
much as I despise the cameras that follow us around.” He huffed a breath, and
she felt his annoyance vibrate through her in a liquid wave.
                 Yes,
this was her world. She’d gladly guide him through it—as long as he stayed
close.
                 “This
red carpet we’re about to trod down en route to the Palais du Cinéma is hellish
for me too,” she admitted.
                 “You
are serious?”
                 “Very.
It’s different when it’s just me and the camera. I’m in control then. But they—”
she nodded at the throng ahead of them “—they are calling the shots now.”
                 “Only
if you let them, Leila.”
                 He
was right, of course. Still it served to remind her how to get through this
crush.
                 “Just
smile. Pretend you see a dear friend just beyond the camera.”
                 “Is
that what you do?” he asked.
                 “Sometimes.”
But usually she looked for him in the crowd, even though she knew he’d not be
there.
                 He
took a breath, then nodded and touched his fingers to her back again. “Let’s
go, then. The sooner we get through this ordeal, the sooner we can find our
seats at the cinema.”
                 And
then they’d face the endless swirl of afterpremiere parties, the first having
already been decided by him. She didn’t mind, for one was just like the other.
Privacy was a hard-won commodity here.
                 When
they’d reached their plush seats at the cinema, Leila allowed herself to relax.
Celebrities, movie moguls and industry professionals all moved to their seats
before the lights dimmed.
                 Later,
as the credits rolled, she was stunned at how much Rafael had invested in this
film, and not just in the technical support he’d given. As the producer in the
elevator had said, every complimentary bag held Rafael’s new mobile device.
They were as much the talk of the evening as the movie itself with those in the
audience activating their phones now.
                 “I
didn’t realize they were all operational,” she said.
                 He
gave a careless shrug. “I simply provided a month’s complimentary service.”
                 The
cost of such a move stunned her, for though she knew he’d achieved great wealth
in the past year, she’d never dreamed he could afford such extravagance! Did
she really know this man next to her at all?
                 The
yacht had been decorated to mimic the set of the movie, a futuristic panorama
right down to the uniforms of the waitstaff. The food was lavish. The drinks
plentiful.
                 Stars
glittered in an indigo sky and on the decks of the yacht as well. Leila had
adored the nightlife in the early days of their marriage, and would party until
dawn with Rafael. But the past few years her enjoyment of the jet-set gaiety
had waned.
                 Even
now the best French champagne tasted bitter to her. And the man she’d married
seemed a powerful stranger.
                 He
commanded attention. People knew his name. Influential people in all walks of
life.
                 Gone
was the carefree young designer who’d created some technological wonder at a
time that everyone clambered for something new and groundbreaking. He was a
star in his world just as she was