‘I’m Kim, Noah’s sister,’ she continues cheerfully. ‘I didn’t recognize you. You don’t look anything like your photos.’ I stare at her in disbelief as her words finally get through. Then I do the worst possible thing I could do. I laugh. Hysterically.
She visibly flinches at my maniacal cackling, no doubt wondering why Noah hasn’t mentioned the fact that I’m a few grapes short of a fruit salad. Finally, alarmed that I’m actually beginning to sound like an extra from a Vincent Price movie, I make a monumental effort to get my totally inappropriate hilarity under control. In the end however, all I can manage is a wheezing, ‘Neither do you.’ She’s probably had more meaningful conversations with a brick wall. In a last ditch effort to pull myself together, I bend over and begin rummaging through my handbag for a tissue. Unfortunately the hand bag fairy’s been at it again and all I come up with is a screwed up piece of toilet paper. Not daring to look back at the vision in front of me, I stare at the ground and attempt to wipe my runny nose on a piece of tissue the size of a stamp. As I dab futilely at each nostril, a string of snot from my nose determinedly clings to the remnants of the tissue until, like a toddler, I’m forced to wipe it away with the back of my hand. I can’t begin to imagine what she must think of me, and with that thought, my unseemly hysterics finally subside, leaving a welcoming numbness in their wake. Squeezing my hand around the sodden remains of the toilet paper, I look back up at the woman I’d once hoped would eventually be my sister. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I whisper, ‘I’ll – I’ll leave now.’ I turn away wondering if I have the nerve to complete my disgrace by making a run for it. However, as I take the first step, a hand takes hold of my arm again and I turn back.
‘Why are you here?’ Kim asks softly, searchingly. We stare at each other silently. ‘I think you know,’ is my eventual unsmiling response. Then I shake my head ruefully. ‘I don’t know what you must think of me,’ I continue, echoing my earlier thought, ‘I don’t usually behave so erratically, it’s just…’ I wave my hand towards the still open door and she nods her head in perfect understanding. ‘Why don’t you come in?’ she says kindly, giving my arm a gentle tug. ‘I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,’ I reply, trying to quash the sudden small surge of hope flickering inside me, ‘You’re obviously expecting guests.’
‘One more won’t make any difference.’ She tugs at my arm again, this time drawing me close enough to tuck her hand into my elbow and tow me gently towards the open door. ‘Despite any outward impression he may give, I think my brother will want to see you.’ She pauses as the voice that has haunted my dreams shouts her name from the kitchen. ‘Be right there honey,’ she answers, looking at me. Then, smiling mischievously, she pulls me towards the spiral staircase that dominates the hall. ‘Come on, we’ll give him a surprise,’ she whispers, ‘You can freshen up in my bedroom.’ As she leads the way, familiarity washes over me in a wave of nostalgic longing. How can I be homesick for a house I never fully lived in? We pass Noah’s room and the longing turns to an almost unbearable ache, until thankfully we turn down the guest corridor and enter the first bedroom. I know this room. I designed it with Kim in mind. As I turn to her, the question on my lips, she beats me to it. ‘I love it,’ she says simply, warmly, and I start to cry.
I’ve been hiding in Kim’s bedroom for the last forty five minutes and I know I can’t stay here much longer. I can hear voices talking and laughing downstairs, but the thought of making a grand entrance is practically giving me palpitations. I feel just like the first time Noah and I met at my father’s impromptu dinner party – it seems like a lifetime ago. Kim thoughtfully left me to compose myself after I broke down earlier, popping up under the cover of arriving guests to slip me a welcome glass of courage inducing wine and to advise me with a quick grin to help myself to her make-up. One look in her bathroom mirror and I almost groaned aloud. The image in front of me actually resembled Lady Gaga at her most eccentric. Since then, I’ve done what I can with my bird’s nest hair and attempted to duplicate the fresh faced outdoor look it took me bloody ages to achieve earlier. Now I’m sitting on the bed holding my empty glass of wine in a death grip and wondering what the hell I’m doing here. In a panic, I hear footsteps coming along the corridor and suddenly Kim sticks her head around the door. ‘Wow, you look great,’ is her encouraging assessment of the newly reinvented me. Then her next words have me swallowing convulsively. ‘Come on sweetie, you can’t sit up here all night. Let’s get this over with.’ Her tone is warm and kind but firm, all at the same time, reminding me so much of her brother. Hesitantly I stand up. ‘What if he really doesn’t want to see me,’ I stammer, glancing longingly at the window. Throwing myself out of it is looking pretty good right now.
‘That’s why I’ve hidden you up here until the last minute,’ she chuckles, clearly enjoying herself. ‘He won’t make a scene and throw you out in front of the director of his next movie.’
‘What,’ I hiss, ‘Oh God, I – I can’t.’ I sit back down on the bed feeling sick, prompting my tormentor to come into the room. She bends down in front of me and her lovely eyes are sincere and sympathetic. ‘Noah’s told me so much about you Tory. I know he’s angry and hurt, but I really do believe that he hasn’t stopped loving you. Are you really going to sit here because you’re too frightened to take the chance that I’m right?’
Is she? I don’t know any more. Biting my lip, I try to force down a terrible premonition of failure. If Noah truly still cared for me, wouldn’t he have come to me before this? Oblivious to the battle going on inside me, Kim holds out her hand in invitation, and taking a deep breath, I stand up and place my fingers in hers.
~*~
Noah glanced down at his watch for the fifth time. Where the bloody hell was Kim? All the guests had arrived and just listening to the laughter and noise was giving him a headache. He needed his sister to deflect the small talk he was simply too weary to deal with. He looked around the drawing room. How he hated this house now. Everything in it reminded him of Tory. Now that he’d signed the deal for Panic, he was going to put the bloody thing on the market. He took a long swallow of his Champagne. It was Kim’s idea to hold a dinner party in Dartmouth to celebrate closing the damn deal, insisting that she simply had to see the house her brother had waxed so lyrically about before he finally sold it. Noah took another frustrated swallow of his drink. At this moment in time, he had absolutely no clue as why he’d gone along with her harebrained idea.
‘Noah, I’ve just finished speaking with your new director.’ His agent Tim’s words were full of suppressed excitement, much the same as when he’d told Noah about the disaster that was about to hit the Shackleford family. ‘Peter believes this movie is going to make you the numero uno in tinsel town. Trust me, you’re going to be the highest paid and most fucking sort after actor on the whole bloody planet.’ He raised his Champagne glass, failing to see that his words were falling on deaf ears. All Noah could see was his agent’s gloating expression as he’d advised the actor to finish his relationship with Tory. It was very clear that Tim was basking in Noah’s newly elevated status as the world’s highest paid actor. To him, Tory had been an encumbrance, an embarrassment, and one to be got rid of at the earliest opportunity.
Well his agent had turned out to be right. His popularity was soaring now he was single again. Noah raised his glass and smiled, but if there was no warmth in it, Tim was too single minded to notice. ‘Are you looking forward to working with Peter?’ The woman’s voice purring in his ear belonged to the producer of Panic, who had made it very clear during the negotiations that as far as she was concerned, Noah was the only male lead she’d consider. Repressing an urge to step away from the cloying scent now filling his nostrils, Noah turned towards Samantha Lewin, spoiled daughter of billionaire Ronald Lewin, and the major financer of the upcoming thriller. ‘I couldn’t be happier,’ he murmured, making an effort to turn on the charm. It seemed to be working. Samantha’s face slowly suffused with colour and she caught her
breath as Noah directed a slow sensual grin towards her. Then abruptly, the smile disappeared and for a second she thought she’d done something wrong until she realized he was gazing over her shoulder at someone who had just come through the door.
~*~
All too quickly we get to the drawing room entrance. I can see about a dozen people milling about the room and my heart somersaults as I remember the last party Noah held here. The one where he kissed me. My eyes automatically gravitate towards Noah, talking to a red haired beauty who appears to be trying to eat him. His eyes are warm and inviting as he smiles at her to devastating effect. I almost feel sorry for her. Almost. Then he looks over his companion’s shoulder towards the doorway – obviously waiting for Kim to appear. I can tell the exact moment he catches sight of me. The smile leaves his expression and his face closes completely. For a second he stares at me, his beautiful eyes hooded and unreadable, then, just as I think he’s going to ignore me altogether, he excuses himself and strides deliberately towards us.
Panicking, I cast a wild glance towards Kim, wondering if I should just bolt, but she places her hand on my arm again to hold me still as she faces down her clearly angry sibling. ‘Is this your doing Kim?’ he enquires coldly, deliberately ignoring the quivering emotional wreck that is me standing next to her. Unnoticed, I stare at them both, wondering how I could ever have mistaken them for anything other than brother and sister. ‘Noah, before you say anything you might regret,’ Kim takes her arm from mine and places her hand urgently on her brother’s shoulder before continuing in a low intense voice, ‘Tory didn’t come here at my invitation, she came because she wanted to speak to you.’ I can see a vein throbbing in his neck, the only indication that he’s furious with both of us. ‘Is now really the time or the place?’ he snaps, still as if I’m not there. His continuing rudeness shatters something inside of me and abruptly I’ve had enough, my anguish finally replaced with a welcome anger.
‘Would you prefer that I make an appointment,’ I enquire, equally frostily. His eyes snap back to me and for a split second I feel as if they’re devouring me, hungry and intense. Then it’s gone, replaced by a look of almost boredom, his eyes coolly regarding me as if I’m a tiresome acquaintance he simply has to tolerate occasionally. ‘Stay if you wish,’ he says finally, distantly, ‘I’ll get them to lay another place for dinner.’ Then he turns on his heels and walks away.
I’m sat at the other end of the table to Noah during dinner and not once has he acknowledged my presence since briefly introducing me to the other guests as his interior designer. Of course it’s obvious that everyone present knows exactly who I am and it doesn’t make for a pleasant relaxing dining experience. As I struggle to deflect the mixture of comments tossed my way - some simply curious, others downright spiteful - I surreptitiously watch Noah exchange teasing, witty banter with the guests around him. As I listen to his familiar sexy laugher, I try to continue eating but slowly a lump of desolation is swelling in my throat. I know Kim meant for me to see this to the end, but I know I can’t. Noah clearly has no interest in finding out the reason for my sudden appearance. I finally acknowledge that it really is over, and the sooner I escape the better. Feeling bruised and battered, I lift my napkin from my lap and place it down on the table beside my plate, before reaching down to slide my chair back.
‘How is your father? It must be a great relief that he managed to wriggle out of a murder trial in Thailand.’ I freeze. So far, everyone has at least had the good manners to avoid the topic of the recent allegations against my father. I stop sliding my chair and look up to a sea of eyes, all staring my way. I have no idea who’s spoken. Frantically I try to think of something to say, but before I can open my mouth, the voice continues, dripping sarcasm and spite. Feeling suddenly sick, I realize it belongs to Noah’s agent. ‘But then I suppose any publicity is better than none. Especially once your five minutes of fame are up.’ I daren’t look at Noah, but shoot a quick glance towards Kim whose expression is a mixture of anger towards Tim and sympathy for me. Fighting the urge to shove my chair all the way back and simply flee, I finally look towards Noah. His anger at his agent’s rudeness is palpable, his fingers gripping the wine glass as if he intends to break it. But his eyes are not on Tim, they’re on me.
He wants to see what I’ll do. He’s expecting me to run away. In a nanosecond my mind goes back to our many conversations about ‘his world’ and ‘my world’. He can continue to protect me, deflecting every snide remark thrown at my door, while I sit and whine about not fitting in and obsessing about how other people see me. But rudeness is the same in any world. And it’s not acceptable, (unless of course it’s my father…)
Taking a deep breath, I transfer my gaze to Tim. His face is belligerent and hostile, his narrowed eyes telling me just how much he hates me, hates the fact that Noah was prepared to give up everything for a nobody. And a plain Jane at that. ‘My father was cleared of all charges as I’m sure you know,’ I say finally, shakily, ‘And I’m not prepared to discuss the ins and outs of the case to someone who clearly has the manners of a three year old, and possibly the IQ of a deck chair. As for your insinuation that I was hanging on to Noah’s coat tails to get my five minutes of fame, perhaps the analogy more accurately refers to yourself. But, as my father would no doubt say if he was here: As long as your arse points downwards, you’ll always be a gopher. Now, if you’ll excuse me…’ In the deathly silence that follows, I finally stand up from the table and walk quickly to the door without looking back.
I’m shaking with anger and grief by the time I reach the lobby leading to the front door and all I can think of is getting out. Unfortunately my desperate haste is making it difficult to work the lock that will get me to freedom. As I fumble with the catch, almost crying with frustration, an achingly familiar voice behind me stops me in my tracks.
‘Why did you come here Tory?’
There’s a brief silence as I stare at the obstinate lock, then without moving, I say hesitantly, ‘I – I would have thought it was obvious.’
‘No, actually, it isn’t. Would you care to enlighten me?’ His voice is giving nothing away and in the end I turn round, needing to see for myself whether he really does want to know why I’m here, when all the evidence up to now screams that he doesn’t care. He’s leaning against the door frame at the entrance to the hall. The lamp behind him is casting shadows over the inky blackness of his hair, blurring his features in the dimness of the lobby. I want to ask him to turn the light on so I can see the expression in his eyes, but then maybe it’s better, easier to do it like this.
I take a deep, steadying breath. ‘I – I wanted to tell you that you were right. The problem was me, not the situation,’ I say finally in a small voice, stuttering slightly in my effort to make him understand. ‘I used the allegations against my father as an excuse to drive you away. I told myself you’d be better off without me - that I was saving you.’ I give a small mirthless laugh, ‘But the real truth is that I simply couldn’t accept that I was enough for you, as I am - that you wanted me. It didn’t make any sense,’ I whisper finally. ‘No-one could ever consider me to be movie star girlfriend material.’
‘And now?’ His voice cracks slightly, the only sign that my answer is important to him.
‘Now it doesn’t matter.’
Noah’s whole body tenses as he absorbs the meaning of my words, and for a horrible second I wonder if I’ve got it all wrong. Then he pushes himself away from the frame and walks slowly towards me, eyes never leaving mine, only stopping when his shirt is inches away from my breasts. I can feel the heat of him through the thin material and my heart thuds erratically in response. ‘What took you so long?’ he finally whispers huskily, before pulling me into his arms and crushing me to his chest, his mouth at long last closing hungrily over mine.
With a small moan of joy, I surrender completely to his kiss, pressing myself against the hard length of him and glorying in the feel of his lips against mine. I twine my
arms around his neck as he pulls me closer, hands molding me to him, sliding up my spine, then lower, gathering my willing body into his. ‘God how I’ve missed you,’ he breathes hoarsely against my lips, before deepening the kiss.
‘What the fuck are you doing? Have you lost your mind Noah?’ The harsh voice penetrates, finally breaking our kiss and reluctantly Noah steps away from me, keeping me shielded behind him as he turns towards the intruder. ‘I think you’ve said enough Tim,’ he says evenly to his enraged agent standing at the entrance to the hall.
‘The hell I have,’ Tim responds in a low furious tone. ‘Is this some kind of fucking game Noah – is that it? See how many times you can bang the wallflower?’ Noah takes a warning step forward, squeezing my hand briefly before pushing me gently away as I try to hold him back. ‘Enough.’ I’m not the only one who flinches at the tightly controlled fury in his voice. Tim pauses in mid tirade, shocked at Noah’s icy tone. He takes a step back as the actor walks purposefully towards him. ‘You and I are done Tim, finished,’ he spits out in a harsh voice I hardly recognize. ‘But unless you want to be thrown out in front of Hollywood’s finest, I suggest you return to the dining table and make nice. Once dinner is over I’ll call you a cab.’
Sweet Victory: A Romantic Comedy (The Dartmouth Diaries Book 2) Page 17