Breaking the Rules by Barbara Taylor Bradford Read Free Book Online Page A

I’m afraid I haven’t been too successful, but then I haven’t been here all that long.’
    ‘How did you meet Georgiana Carlson?’
    ‘Through a young man I know…he’s called Dax. He’s a model and an actor.’
    ‘Oh, sure, I know Dax. I’ve used him from time to time. Geo’s boyfriend.’
    ‘That’s right. And he’s gone off to the West Coast to try his luck.’
    ‘He’s smart. So let’s go into the main studio, give it a whirl. How much modelling have you done?’
    ‘A little. In London.’
    ‘Did you bring any pictures?’
    ‘Yes. They’re in my tote.’ As she spoke she picked this up and hurried after him, following him into the studio. ‘As for actual modelling, I haven’t done much of that…been on the catwalk, I mean,’ she admitted, looking suddenly rueful.
    ‘Let’s see the pictures.’ Frankie Farantino stared at her intently, immediately understanding that she was a novice, a young woman looking for that first break, but this did not trouble him at all. He preferred young women who had not been coached, trained—and often tainted—by other photographers. One of the thingshe most enjoyed as a photographer was moulding a girl, actually creating her, in a sense, giving her a special look of his own invention. Taking the batch of photographs that M handed to him, heflicked through them swiftly, then glanced at her and half smiled. ‘They’re not bad, and at least I can see you photograph well. But these just don’t do you justice.’ He handed them to her.
    ‘I suppose not,’ she murmured, and swiftly put them back in the tote, deciding not to show them to anyone again, especially a photographer.
    ‘Okay, so let’s get started,’ Frankie said. ‘Go and stand over there on that raised platform, and turn slowly, in a circle, so that I can view you from every angle, study you.’
    She did as he instructed, stepped up onto the platform, slowly turning, and turning again when he told her to keep moving. ‘Slowly, very slowly, ’ he intoned.
    Watching her intently, and with concentration, Frankie saw a lot of remarkable things simultaneously. She was lithe, moved gracefully like a dancer and, although she was rather tall, her height was balanced by a good figure and a special kind of inbred elegance. Her face fascinated him…she reminded him of someone he could not quite place. That vague, elusive image flickered at the back of his mind; just as he thought he was about to grasp it, have it fully revealed to him, it floated away—and maddeningly so.
    ‘Come on down,’ he said at last, and stretched out his hand to help her off the platform. ‘You brought a skirt, didn’t you?’
    ‘Yes, I did, and a dress. A simple black sheath. High heels, and a pair of flats.’
    ‘Good. There’s a dressing room over there.’ He indicated a door set in one of the soaring walls. ‘Please change into…well, anything you want.’
    M nodded and hurried into the dressing room. She selected her flared, red cotton skirt, which went well with the pristine white shirt, added a wide black leather belt, slipped her feet into her favourite black ballerina slippers. Glancing at herself in the mirror, she decided to pull her hair back into a ponytail, added hoop earrings, and used a brighter red lipstick to define her mouth.
    Frankie was loading his camera and looked up when Mwalked out into the studio. Instantly he knew exactly whom she resembled. A young Audrey Hepburn. He felt sudden excitement surge through him; he could hardly wait to capture her image on film. Only then would he know what he really had, what her potential was.
    ‘You look great, M!’ he exclaimed. ‘I’d like you to stand over there, in front of that white picket fence with the backdrop of a green field behind it.’
    Frankie followed her, put his camera on a side table, and explained, ‘Move around a little, honey. Move your arms, strike a few poses you’re familiar with. Like this.’ He gave her a quick demonstration,