Champagne Cravings by Ava McKnight Read Free Book Online

ready to meet with Biel way ahead of
schedule. It was a little past one, just after lunch, so I headed down to the
main studio Cal had told me was reserved for the campaign. I stepped out of the
elevator and encountered another security desk. Not only did I have to flash my
badge, the guard had to look me up in the computer system to ensure I was
cleared to be in the area. Once I’d passed muster, he led me to a set of double
glass doors and swiped his own badge in order to unlock them.
    I entered a small lobby and introduced myself to the
receptionist, then told her, “I have a three o’clock meeting with Miss
McKinley, but thought I’d check to see if she could spare a few minutes now.”
    I wondered how she was faring. Wondered if she’d even come
into the studio today. If so, I suspected she’d still been escorted through the
delivery entrance to avoid the media frenzy I’d had to wade through just to get
into the building.
    The woman behind the reception desk couldn’t have been more
than twenty-two or three and had short, spiky blond hair tipped with purple.
Though she wore a business suit, it was a funky, trendy style I’d never seen
before. I spared a glance at my traditional red suit and black heels. Despite
having on Donna Karan, I felt ridiculously outdated and glaringly un-hip.
    The receptionist closed her fashion magazine and looked up
at me. “I think everyone’s gone for lunch. They usually get back around two.
But you can check the studio, if you’d like.”
    Her nonchalance perplexed me. “Do a lot of people come and
go down here?”
    She shrugged. “Depends on what’s happening with the
campaign. It got pretty crazy late this morning, which is why I’m not sure
who’s still around.”
    I’d have to get a list from Cal of all the people who’d had
access to the area before the product launch. And, of course, it’d be a good
idea to meet with the head of the lab where Biel’s cosmetics had been packaged.
    Wandering through the plush studio, I came across a few
large rooms with high-tech equipment set up as though ready for a photo
session. Mav had said there was more to the campaign than the product launch,
including print and TV ads, all starring Biel. If he didn’t fire her. The jury
was still out on that—he hadn’t mentioned cutting her from the campaign; nor
had he worn a warm and fuzzy expression when her name had come up earlier.
    The corridors in the studio were lined with framed pictures
of the famous models who’d pimped the Elan brand. Biel’s was absent, though I
surmised that was because Mav had wanted to limit the number of people in the
know after he’d signed her. The entire area was quiet and my footsteps were
absorbed by the thick carpet. All the dressing room doors were closed, save for
one that was cracked open near the end of the hall.
    I headed toward it, only to pull up short when I heard a
sharp moan, followed by a very demanding, “Don’t stop. Oh God, don’t stop!”
    The woman’s lusty voice echoed in the quiet hallway.
    She let out another moan, then said, “That’s it. Right
there. Oh yes. Oh God, yes. Fuck my pussy.”
    I made an abrupt turn and started to walk away, but pulled
up short when another female voice came from the dressing room.
    “You like that, don’t you, Biel? Beg me to make you come,
baby,” she said. “Do it.”
    “Please, Piper. Please make me come.”
    Piper. As in Piper Levine, makeup artist to the
stars?
    I did another one-eighty and crept toward the partially
opened doors. They were accordion types made of slated wood that looked like
white, floor-to-ceiling plantation shutters. I wasn’t one to intrude on
another’s romantic interlude, unless it bore relevance to something I was
working on. The investigative reporter in me needed to confirm who was doing
Biel.
    Peering through a slat, I discovered Biel perched on the
edge of a sturdy-looking coffee table, her robe wide open to reveal every inch
of her supermodel