Blood streamed down her neck as the life slowly ebbed out of her body. The vampire was moving in for another bite when a sudden movement in the corner of the room scared him off.

“You’re supposed to be biting her, not asking for directions to the supermarket!” a voice yelled in French. “I need you to look dangerous.”

The photographer stamped his foot impatiently, making the bloodsucker jump. He bared his teeth more ferociously and lunged at her again. Jessica gagged. Ben’s breath smelt revolting. Weren’t vampires supposed to be afraid of garlic? He must have eaten a stack of garlic bread last night. She knew he’d been hailed as the new Adonis of the male modelling world with his dark, chiselled good looks, but she was thankful she just had to pretend to be bitten by him. It would have been a lot worse if they’d had to do a fake kiss. Gross!

She moved her neck, which was at an awkward angle. She’d been squeezed into a whalebone corset, voluminous petticoats and a huge, crimson Armani Privé gown that was sprinkled with hundreds of Swarovski crystals. Her face had been powdered chalk white and her lips were a slash of glossy scarlet. More Swarovski diamonds were sprinkled in her hair, which had been curled into ringlets and piled into a towering stack. This was one of the best bits of modelling – wearing clothes she could never afford to buy herself in a zillion years and becoming someone else: a character from a different world.

She sat at a table piled high with cream pastries, pastel-coloured macaroons, cheeses and fruit. Her stomach rumbled. This was torture. She was starving. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the other models, Sara and Margurita, slumped over the table. They too were being attacked by bloodthirsty vampires during the feast. Thankfully, the photographer worked a lot faster than Sebastian Rossini. She figured they’d all spent longer in make-up and being sewn into their extravagant costumes than actually being on set because he called a wrap thirty minutes later.

“Sorry about that,” Ben said, wiping the fake blood from his mouth. “I had a heavy night last night and couldn’t concentrate properly. I don’t usually need so many directions.”

He helped her out of her chair, as she could barely move. Grinning, he exposed a row of perfect, white teeth. He pushed his long black hair behind his ears. His eyes were the darkest blue she’d ever seen. He was Prince Charming-style handsome and he knew it, but Jamie beat him hands down.

No contest.

She shrugged. “It’s not a problem.”

“I’m heading out on the town again tonight if you’re interested,” he said. “A whole gang of us are going out. The clubs are great around here. Much better than London.”

Yikes. Was he hitting on her?

“Er, I can’t, I’m sorry,” she said, “but thanks anyway.”

“Of course, I forgot. You’re off the menu.” He winked as he walked off. “For now.”

Eeugh. He was good-looking but a creep. Sara, the other model from Primus, didn’t seem to mind. He was chatting her up now. Sara obviously didn’t find his massive ego a deal-breaker. Jessica turned around and spotted Camille in the corner, talking to the photographer and a stylist. How could she get rid of the limpet before the whole day was wasted? Camille had picked up her and Sara from the hotel at five thirty a.m. and taken them both to a series of non-stop castings. Jessica was walking for Saint Laurent, Alexander McQueen and Chanel tomorrow, which was great for her agency but bad news for her. It meant she couldn’t follow up any new leads when she was stuck in so many shows. They were pretty much back to back.

Camille’s eyes followed her as she shuffled to the changing room. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that she was Nathan’s plant. Camille was hardly subtle; she’d barely let her out of her sight all morning. Jessica crossed her hands as assistants lifted the dress over her head. She shrugged on a white robe and fastened the belt tightly. She went to get her clothes from the rail but Sara stepped in her way.

“I’d like my ciggies back,” she said tightly.

Sara was trying to give up smoking and had asked Jessica to hide a packet in her handbag that morning, before Jessica had seriously annoyed her by landing so many shows. Sara was only walking for Alexander McQueen.

“No. I’m doing you a favour,” Jessica said. “It’s a filthy habit and you know it.”

Sara glared at her, crossing her arms. Even when she frowned, she was stunning, with spiky black hair and amethyst eyes that blazed with anger.

“Jessica’s right,” Margurita murmured. “Smoking’s a terrible idea, Sara, particularly for a model. It’ll age your skin. Why jeopardize your chances now that the famous five are out of the picture? I’m certainly not going to.”

Sara spun around. “You know them?”

“We belonged to the same agency, but they never had anything to do with me.” Margurita shook her long, dark mane. “Not even at the Emerald Ball.”

She’d captured Jessica’s interest now. “You were there? I saw the photos. It looked amazing.”

“It was,” Margurita said dreamily. “The hottest men in Hollywood turned up. I had two great snogs.”

“What about the famous five?” Sara asked. “How many snogs did they have?”

Margurita snorted. “I wouldn’t know. They stayed behind a VIP cordon, drinking magnums of Cristal all night. They even had assistants who kept everyone away. They only let a chosen few get through if the girls thought they were famous enough to speak to. People were actually queuing up, asking for permission to meet them. Tyler thought it was hilarious and tried to sneak in a few ‘civilians’, but she got caught.”

“No way!” Sara said. “I can’t wait till I’m famous and can make people queue up to talk to me in clubs. It would be too cool.”

Jessica rolled her eyes. Sara was soooo shallow.

“Well, people aren’t queuing up to see them now,” Margurita said cattily.

“What do you mean?” Jessica demanded.

Margurita looked over her shoulder at the assistants who were arranging gowns on a rail. She turned back to Jessica. “They’re apparently holed up at some private facility in Switzerland, getting treatment at the agency’s expense.”

“Treatment for what?”

“No one really knows,” Margurita said as she pulled her false eyelashes off. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “But the rumour doing the rounds is they all had plastic surgery that went horribly wrong. Like Frankenstein-bad.”

“Ohmigod,” Sara gasped. “Did they end up with trout pouts? Are they suing their plastic surgeon?”

“No idea,” Margurita said calmly. “And I can’t say I care. No one else got a look in while they were around. They took all the best jobs. Now they’ve gone, I’ve got Couture Week and a bunch of other jobs. In fact, my agency said Jacey, Olinka and Valeriya were the first choices for this job.”

Sara’s mouth dropped. This was news to her. She obviously thought she was the first choice. She really didn’t like being second best to anyone.

“It’s pretty odd, though, don’t you think?” Jessica said. “They’re all young and perfect already. Tyler’s only eighteen so she can’t possibly have any wrinkles.”

Margurita shrugged. “There’s always someone younger and hotter than you coming up through the ranks. Maybe even Tyler had started to worry she was in danger of being replaced. Who knows what we’d do if we were in the same position?”

“I’m never having plastic surgery,” Sara said with a shudder. “Anyway, some of these young models aren’t as hot as they think.”

She shot a pointed look at Jessica; she was five years younger than Sara and a lot less experienced at modelling. Jessica ignored her. She quickly removed all traces of the heavy, theatrical make-up, dropping ball after ball of cotton wool into the bin. She pulled on a vintage cream lace blouse she’d discovered at London’s Portobello Market and teamed it with black skinny jeans, a Religion black leather jacket and biker boots. She grabbed her bag and was about to make a run for it when Camille tapped the door and peered round.

“Going somewhere I should know about?” She raised an eyebrow.

“No,” Jessica said. “I just thought I might do a coffee run.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll go in a minute. There’s no rush, is there? I thought we could all grab some lunch together but Sara’s not even dressed yet.”

Jessica forced a smile. She could feel the rein tightening around her.

“You both did brilliantly this morning,” Camille said brightly. “I can’t wait to see the spread.”

“Me too,” Sara said, pulling on a black sweater and leggings. “Is there any news about this afternoon? I’m totally psyched.”

Camille reddened. “Sorry, Sara. Don’t shoot the messenger but head office says there’s been a change of plan. You don’t need to go to AKSC any more. But hey, you could go shopping instead.”

“What are you talking about?” Frowning hard, Sara stalked up to Camille and planted herself, hands on hips, in front of her. “I’ve practically got this job in the bag. It’s my third callback. I have to go.”

“Apparently, the client’s changed their mind. I’m really sorry but they want to see Jessica instead.”

Yes! Margaret must have worked some magic.

“What?” Sara shouted. “You have to be kidding. AKSC’s my job, not hers. You can’t let her steal it from me.”

“She’s not stealing it,” Camille said calmly. “You need to stay professional about this. It’s not personal. Allegra was passed some pictures from Jessica’s shoot in Teen Mode and heard about her work for Mademoiselle. She thinks she could be perfect for her new project and wants to meet her.”

“Unbelievable!” Sara fumed. “That’s what she said about me!”

Camille ignored her and walked up to Jessica. “It’s up to you, but think of the international exposure you’ll get if you’re signed by a skincare company like AKSC.”

No way could she give up this chance to snoop just to appease a stroppy model. She turned towards Sara. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let this opportunity slip through my fingers. I hope you understand that.”

“I understand perfectly well,” Sara snarled. “You’re a little back-stabber, but from now on you should watch your back while I’m around.” She pushed over a rail of clothes and stomped out of the room.

“Zut alors!” an assistant cried. She leapt forward to try and rescue the gowns before they were damaged.

“You did the right thing,” Camille said, sighing. “Sara will get over it in time. Other things will come up for her, but this is your moment. You have to grab it.”

“I know,” Jessica said.

This casting was her most important to date. It could help her track down Dad.