It also turned out Paris was known for its sudden rain showers. One moment we’d been dry and the next we were soaked through. The crew hadn’t even had time to rush over to us with umbrellas.
And the best thing? In Malcolm’s expert opinion, Faith and I playing the scene cold and shivering would make it appear more authentic.
“I can’t feel my toes,” I complained.
“You have toes?”
“Barely.”
“I’m seriously rethinking my desire to do more action movies,” I told her.
“Yeah, I know what you mean. The end product always looks amazing though.”
I sighed and kicked at a cobblestone while the team prepared for us to shoot the scene again. “I guess this location is pretty cool.”
Faith stamped her feet, probably still wondering where her toes went. “I’ve got to admit, this street is Parisian gorgeous. It would be better if I was strolling along it after a three-course dinner though.”
She had a point. It was after ten at night and dinner had been and gone. I was so jet-lagged that I hadn’t felt like eating earlier and now, of course, my stomach was gurgling. I ignored it and attempted to appreciate the view. The architecture of this city was to die for. Quaint apartments several levels high bordered the street. Some of the windows had shutters painted blue and small planter boxes and I wished like hell it wasn’t dark. It would be so pretty here in the daytime.
Further down the street, onlookers strained to get a view of us. We had permission to use the street for part of the car chase scene and it was blocked off at either end. It was very unlikely my stalker had followed me across continents, but I was glad for the distance from the crowds.
“Alright, Faith, Chloe, we’re about to go again. Spots please.”
I shuffled into position, trying not to glare at Malcolm looking comfortable in his knee-length raincoat. Not that it was raining anymore, but at least he was warm. I was only wearing a T-shirt and jeans, and while it was spring, the nights were still cool even when you weren’t wet.
“Let’s dive into that car like our lives really do depend on it this time,” Faith said, her voice low in my ear. “If we don’t get it right soon I think I’ll end up sick or Malcolm will have to endure my wrath.”
I giggled. “I’d like to see that.”
Chapter 36
“How are you holding up?”
I looked up from the wine that I’d been swirling in the glass instead of drinking and felt my face redden.
“Oh, hi, Malcolm. Just warming up before I go to bed.”
Well, this was awkward. It was sometime around two in the morning and I’d been too keyed-up after filming to be able to fall asleep straight away. Jet lag didn’t help either. It was closer to dinnertime at home and my poor body didn’t know what to do. Grabbing the French red wine that had been left in my suite and making my way down to the inviting lounge area had seemed like a good option.
“Hope you didn’t get too bruised and battered during that last scene,” he said.
He walked over to the embroidered armchair sitting next to mine, which looked more like an antique than a useable piece of furniture. He lowered himself into it carefully, as if he was unsure whether it was meant to be sat on.
His cropped gray hair was damp, suggesting he’d just showered. It spiked up in all directions, as if he’d run his fingers through it instead of combing it. He was in his usual uniform of jeans and sweater. Tonight’s was gray.
“I feel fine,” I told him. “Just awake.” And seriously uncomfortable that the production company had decided to hire out an entire bed and breakfast instead of putting us up in a hotel. I should have just stayed in my room rather than risk running into anyone. The quaint fireplace that had been lit was too good to resist though, and I’d been enjoying the old-style furnishings and ambience until Malcolm had found me.
“I heard about you and your boyfriend. I can’t say it’s affected the quality of your work, which I admire.”
I cradled the glass of wine in my lap and attempted a small shrug. Oh boy, here we go. Before I’d left the USA, Gabe and I had carried out my plan and ‘broken up’. My new publicist had made an official statement to the media while Gabe and Faith were snapped together having dinner at an LA restaurant.
Alright, it had been more than that, but Faith had instructed me not to view the pictures. Apparently they’d shared a kiss for the photographers and I felt sick just thinking about it.
So sick that I hadn’t had any issue whatsoever with the paparazzi trailing me as I shopped in various Beverly Hills boutiques looking miserable. Made even more miserable by the fact that I couldn’t legitimately see Gabe before we flew out without making anyone suspicious.
“I’m doing OK,” I lied. “It’s good to be busy.” Why did lying feel so different to acting?
“Yeah, but Faith, of all people. I was worried you might scratch her eyes out or something on-set, but you’ve been very mature about the whole thing.” His blue eyes watched me curiously from behind his wire-rimmed glasses.
I focused on my wine again, hoping it would look like I was uncomfortable—which I was. It was much easier pretending for the media instead of a real person.
“Faith and I are good friends,” I said carefully. “And Gabe and I were over before they got involved, despite what the media is saying. Maybe she’ll be happier with him than I was.” The aftertaste of the red wine and the lies on my tongue tasted bitter.
Malcolm arched an eyebrow. “You’re a lot more forgiving than I would be. She didn’t waste any time.”
“That’s just Faith. She goes after what she wants.”
I heard Malcolm sigh. “And you’re a nice girl. I’m sorry for putting pressure on you earlier about that.”
I stared at Malcolm in surprise. “That’s OK.” It wasn’t, but I was too shocked to say any more.
“You’re an alluring combination, very different to Faith,” he said. “Super sweet, but now you’re older the camera can’t deny your sex appeal.”
Oh wow. I wasn’t uncomfortable anymore, I was mortified. “Yes, Faith and I are very different,” I replied stiffly.
“I wanted to capture that,” he said, his blue eyes still on mine. “I thought maybe if you had some fun in your personal life you’d be more comfortable with milking that sexy sweetness on camera.”
I straightened in my seat. “I’m an actress, Malcolm. My personal life shouldn’t come into it.”
“And now I’ve offended you again. That wasn’t my intention. I know I can come across as abrupt, occasionally mean, but I’m glad to be working with you, Chloe. My directing style doesn’t always win fans, but you’ve grown a lot as an actress in the last couple of months.”
I nodded and took a big mouthful of wine. Malcolm being nice to me was almost as bad as him being difficult to work with.
I stiffened when he put a hand on my leg. “Chloe, you’re young, but can I just say something? About what we were talking about earlier? Friends don’t do things like that.”
I cleared my throat and wished like hell I could get him to take my hand off my leg. “I know, but we have a movie to film and I’m doing my best to make it work.”
There. That made me sound professional, didn’t it? The truth was I hadn’t fully thought through how our little plan would impact on the appearance of my relationship with Faith while I finished this movie. That was probably why I was an actress and not a writer like my father.
Malcolm’s fingers squeezed my leg and I tried not to flinch. “I’ve been watching you, Chloe. You’re a smart girl, did you know that?”
“I . . . ” I clenched the stem of my glass tightly. I’ve been watching you . . .
I jumped up from my seat, the wine sloshing out of the glass. Several large drops soaked into my jeans, spreading like blood.
“I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I just remembered I haven’t called my brother. I promised him I’d call hours ago and he’s probably worried sick.
”
I rushed from the room.
“MALCOLM COHEN, YOUR director?” Marc’s deep voice sounded crystal clear despite the North Atlantic Ocean separating us.
I tightened the grip on my cell phone. “Yes,” I hissed, like I wasn’t in my hotel room and someone could hear me. “Our director.”
“Run me through your conversation again,” Marc instructed.
I did as he requested and when I was finished, I collapsed onto the bed, feeling extremely tired all of a sudden. “It was those words: ‘I’ve been watching you.’ If he hadn’t said that, I may not have suspected, but . . . but now I don’t know why I haven’t considered it earlier.”
Malcolm could be my stalker. As preposterous as it sounded, the idea fit. It made sense. Particularly after all his creepy innuendo about me being sexy when we’d been filming in LA.
Marc didn’t sound as convinced as I was. I knew that was just in his nature. He liked to investigate all options and that was his job. But I’d promised him I’d tell him if anything unusual occurred and Malcolm being nice to me, touching me, and then saying those things to me, was unusual.
“I appreciate that,” Marc said. “And it’s definitely worth looking into. I’ll start checking it out and see if it’s possible.”
Oh, it was possible. Very possible. I may have even done some amateur sleuthing work myself. Malcolm Cohen was a divorced father of two children aged eight and eleven. He was forty-three years old—older than I thought he was—and his Mr. Average baby face hid a man with interesting taste in women. After divorcing his high-school sweetheart, Malcolm had been seen around Hollywood with several women, all younger. I had to admit he wasn’t the only man in our industry who liked young women. But when I’d read that his last girlfriend had been a twenty-four-year-old actress trying to crack into the business, I knew I had to call Marc. There was no questioning I was to Malcolm’s tastes.
“When will you be in touch?” I asked Marc. I had to work with this man. As well as pretending things between Faith and I were fraught, now I had to act like Malcolm wasn’t potentially my creepy stalker.
“Soon as I can. Tell Faith. Maybe don’t tell Viktor just yet, until I’ve done further investigation. He’s staying close, isn’t he?”
“Oh, yeah.” No, no need to tell Viktor just yet. He’d go into commando mode if he even caught a whiff of anything to do with Malcolm. For now I’d keep my door locked while I was staying here and the rest of the time I’d be around Faith or the crew.
“Good,” Marc said. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I can.”
Chapter 37
“I’m coming over.”
“Gabe, you can’t.” It was the next morning and I had to leave for the day’s filming in a minute, but I’d wanted to speak to Gabe first. I didn’t want to make the same mistake I’d made before about not telling him important things like, oh, my director could be my stalker. He wasn’t taking it well.
“I damn well can. I’ll go and tell the boys now—”
“No! Gabe, please don’t. I’m safe and it will ruin our plan.”
“Fuck the plan. I’m getting on a plane.”
“But what about the photo of Damon and Emilio—”
“Jesus, Chloe. What about you? What about your safety? Seeing as you seem determined not to worry about it, then you need someone with you who will.”
“That’s Viktor’s and Marc’s job. We can’t let that photo get out, Gabe,” I begged. “It will ruin Damon.”
“Then Damon needs to grow the hell up.”
“That’s not fair and you know it.”
“All I know is you’re there and I’m here and it’s shit.” The desperation in his voice hurt just as much as being apart did.
“Gabe,” I said softly, “you have two concerts to perform in London and then you’ll be in Paris. I’ll be fine until then. You can’t leave the band. They wouldn’t be able to play the show.”
“They’d find another drummer.”
“Is that what you really think? That you’re so easily replaceable?”
“You’re not. I know that much. Dammit.”
I couldn’t see him, but I could imagine him pacing his hotel room, one of his hands shoving his hair back.
“I miss you,” I whispered.
Gabe blew out a long breath. “I’m going crazy being apart from you and not just because of all this stalker crap. How are we ever going to make this work?”
I backed up to the bed and lowered myself unsteadily onto the edge. “What do you mean?”
“I’m here, you’re there,” he said plainly. “This could easily be our life.”
“We’ll make it work,” I said, my voice firm.
“Yeah, but when the band tours we can be gone months at a time.”
“Then I’ll come with you.”
“No, you can’t. Your career is important. I wouldn’t want you to give up roles for me.”
“Then what are you saying?” I hated hearing the waver in my voice, but I was just so tired. Jet lag, stalkers, my fraught relationship with my mother, and trying to make things work with Gabe had taken their toll on me.
“I’m saying it sucks, that’s all.”
“I’m more used to it than you are,” I said, determined to be upbeat for him. Chloe Kemp always saw the bright side and that wasn’t going to change no matter how crazy my life got. “Are you giving up on me, Gabriel da Silva?” I demanded.
He gave a tight laugh. “You’re amazing, you know that?”
“No, I’m not, but I’m your girlfriend and don’t you ever forget that.”
He chuckled this time and I leaned into the phone, enjoying the sound. I hoped the next week went quickly because I couldn’t wait to see him again.
His laughter faded and there was silence for a beat. “Someone gave up on me once.”
I gripped the phone tighter. “Who?”
“My ex-fiancée.”
My other hand, which was resting on the bed, clutched at the duvet. How did I not know about this? I was a huge fan of Gypsy Hour. Gabe had never had a serious relationship as far as I knew.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that,” I managed.
“No, you wouldn’t. No one does. She asked for it to be like that.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
Gabe sighed. “We were together for eight years. She was my biggest supporter all that time when I was doing gigs around LA. When I wanted to throw the towel in and stop, she talked me around. I was performing in something like four of five bands, but still struggling to make ends meet. She supported me financially a lot of the time because she had a good job in an advertising agency.”
“I hate to admit it, but she sounds pretty cool.” From what he’d just told me, if it hadn’t been for his ex, Gabe may not be where he was today.
“Then Levi found me and I joined Gypsy Hour. Everything changed between us after that.”
“But why? Surely she must have been happy for you?”
“At first, yeah. But then the touring started. She felt like she lost me. It wasn’t until that point I realized how much she’d done for me. She’d helped organize my gigs, everything. Once Gypsy Hour came along she was cut out of all of that.”
“That must have been hard.”
“So hard that I found her with another guy when I came back early from a publicity trip. Some douchebag from work.”
“Oh, Gabe.”
“Yeah. She said she was lonely. It’s so cliché it still makes me sick. She claimed she didn’t want the spotlight of being the girlfriend of the drummer of one of America’s hottest bands. What she wanted was marriage and kids and a dad who would be around.”
“Then why did she push you so hard when you were gigging? That doesn’t make sense.”
“That’s what I couldn’t understand at first, too. With time I was able to see that she loved the idea of me being in a rock band, but the reality wasn’t what she expected.”
I could relate that. Al
ly had experienced something similar last year when she was falling for Jake. His reputation as the sexiest man alive and all the attention that came with it had almost been too much for her. They’d had some really tough times before they’d been able to make it work.
So many people thought acting was glamorous. Sure, there were the red carpets and the premieres and the awards ceremonies. What they didn’t see was all those hours of filming in uncomfortable conditions, the boredom of waiting around, the endless hours of hair and make-up and being away from home. Oh, and the constant media attention and occasional stalker. That was fun. Don’t get me wrong, I loved what I did for a living, but it had its downsides, too.
“Gabe, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”
“Like I said, that’s the way she wanted it. Our relationship fell apart early on during that first tour and with her advertising background, she made sure no one knew.”
“That’s not actually all that easy. You guys were getting a heap of attention. How did she achieve that?”
“She told everyone she was my former manager. When rumors came out that we were in a relationship, she denied it and said all we had was a close working friendship.”
Gosh, I could understand her need to avoid media attention but that didn’t seem very fair. It was almost like she’d tried to wipe away any evidence of the relationship altogether.
“Well, I’m Chloe Kemp and the spotlight doesn’t scare me—in case you haven’t noticed.”
I swear I felt him smile through the phone. “Yeah, I kinda got that.”
“So don’t give up on me, alright? I know I’m still young but I’ve been in this industry a long time and I know what to expect. We can make this work if we want it to.”
“I’m not giving up on you, but you are young. Seven years younger than me. Is this what you what?”
“Um, yes.”
He chuckled again. “You’ve got your whole life ahead of you, you don’t need to settle for me.”
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