by Lynn Forth
Her quick eyes glanced round as she fondly wiped her lipstick traces from Jack’s cheeks. Something Jane had been longing to do.
‘Over there. Johnson’s office. They have searched it already. Get in quickly before someone sees you. I’ll let you know when the coast is clear.’
Perching on the edge of the small black sofa in the darkened office, Jane gazed anxiously at Jack as he paced back and forth. He clearly hated all this subterfuge and hiding. She knew he was only complying for her sake, and was worried that at any minute he would do something rash.
‘Jack, there’s nothing you can do till Dolores gives us the all-clear.’
If only she could distract him. She patted the sofa, hoping he would come and sit next to her. But he continued to move restlessly round the room.
Giving an involuntary shiver in the cool air-con, she clasped her arms around herself and silently rued this foolishly skimpy dress.
But Jack had noticed the shiver, and immediately took off his jacket and came to drape it round her bare shoulders. It exuded his body warmth and his subtle lemony aftershave. Jane hugged it gratefully around her.
‘Oh, thanks. I hate air-con. And I hate this dress. I should have worn a vest and a woolly cardy with it.’
Despite himself, Jack grinned, as she had intended he would.
‘You see, you understand the word “cardy”, and all my other expressions. Why didn’t I twig ages ago that you were English? I feel so stupid.’
Relaxing a little, Jack came to sit next to her and gently pulled her closer to warm her up. Despite their perilous situation, or maybe because of it, she had never felt so keenly alive. Curled into his arms, she was acutely aware of her body…and his. Her heightened senses could feel the crispness of his white cotton shirt, taut against his chest, and the pent-up tension rippling along his arms. The thumping of his big powerful heart resounded in her ears, and the clean tang of his aftershave invaded her nostrils. Her limbs ached with aroused desire.
She looked up at him to see if he was feeling it, too. But he seemed too alert to sounds from outside, although he almost absentmindedly kissed her forehead.
He seemed to be mulling over her last remark.
‘Jane, the last thing you are is stupid. Don’t forget, I deliberately deflected you every time I thought you might guess I was English.’
‘Why? I don’t understand why it would matter if I knew.’
He grimaced. ‘It wasn’t just you. It was everyone. In this place, you learn to keep your barriers up.’
‘That’s awful. So, you can never be true to yourself?’
‘I hadn’t thought about it like that, but I suppose not. There are a few people who know the true me, but with everyone else, I’m…well, I’m not sure what I am. I suppose I’m Jack Clancy, script writer.’
‘Not Bruno’s son?’
He shuddered. ‘I hope not. In fact, I’m pretty sure I got rid of that stigma a long time ago.’
‘Can I ask—’
‘Why he hates me so much?’
‘Only if you can bear to talk about it.’
‘OK,’ he sighed. He paused for a moment, picturing when he used to live in this house, sitting and talking to Johnson and Juanita in this small office, and eating in the kitchen next door.
‘As I explained, while I was living here, I was keeping my head down, working hard, and hoping one day I could escape this place and go to an East Coast college to study law. Bruno liked the idea of being able to boast about his son at Harvard, so he didn’t object. Of course, I really wanted to go back to England to university there, but I knew Bruno wouldn’t fund that.’
He glanced down at Jane nestled in his arms and said defensively, ‘You may blame me, but I had no compunction about taking his money. I figured he owed me, owed Mum, for all those years we had struggled without him.’
He felt Jane’s head nod against his chest and her muttered, ‘Quite right, too.’
If only he could sit quietly here with her, shutting out the rest of the world, shutting out his memories.
‘One of the reasons I kept out of Bruno’s way was so I didn’t have to witness his “casting couch sessions”. I caught him a few times in, shall we call them “compromising situations” with young actresses. They were always young, and none of them looked as if they were enjoying what they were doing, but were obviously trying to further their careers.
‘Bruno could see my disgust and always defended these sleazy goings-on. He told me, “If a girl can’t do nude scenes convincingly, she’ll never make it in the industry.” Unfortunately, there is a certain truth to it. But I hated his exploitation of their dreams….and their bodies.’
He felt Jane’s gaze on him, aware that his body had tensed up as he spoke.
‘Anyway, one day, I had just come in from baseball game when I heard frightened screams coming from Bruno’s bedroom. I raced upstairs and met a flustered Johnson hovering outside the bedroom door.
I asked him why he wasn’t going in to see what was happening. But he said, “Your father is…er…entertaining a young lady in there. I don’t think you should go in.” I could hear sobbing from inside the room and Bruno’s harsh raised voice.
‘I pushed open the door and saw him standing over a terrified, naked, young girl, with his arm raised about to hit her. I was horrified and shouted to him to stop.’
Jack paused for a moment, reliving the memory of that day, before continuing. ‘Bruno looked at me amazed. Then he gave a scornful laugh, and said, “Go away, son. It’s none of your business. Tanya here is making a fuss about nothing. Aren’t you, honey?”
‘The girl, Tanya, looked terrified. So, I told him to let her go, but he just laughed. He had hit me before, and I knew he would be happy to do it again.
‘He told me, “Look, sonny, go back to your room and let grown-ups get on with grown-up stuff.” But I was seventeen and felt grown up, and very angry. I said, “I mean it, Bruno. Stop it and let her go.”
‘Bruno sneered, “Or what?”
‘So, I replied, “Or I’ll stop you.”
‘He let go, and she sank back onto the bed and began scrabbling around for her clothes. Then, he came for me.’
Jane gasped, horrified. Jack grinned down at her ruefully.
‘I’d like to tell you I whupped him, whupped him good. But I didn’t. I was giving a good account for myself, better I think than he was expecting, so he really lost his temper and laid into me. Anyway, one of his rings sliced into my forehead, just above my eye, and it started bleeding. Really bleeding.’
Unconsciously, Jack touched his scar.
‘I remember there was a lot of blood. It was dripping into my eye and I couldn’t see. It went everywhere, all over the white bedclothes, the white carpet. Tanya started screaming even more, and Johnson came in. Then Juanita. It looked a gory mess. Probably a lot worse than it was.
‘Bruno had to stop, but he was livid. He ordered me out. Johnson and Juanita helped me and Tanya out of the room, but he followed them and insisted we both left the house immediately. Just as we were.
‘I’ve never been back.’
There was silence. Jack was lost, still remembering the events of that night long ago, and Jane was taking in what the story revealed about Bruno, and Jack.
Suddenly, she sat bolt upright.
‘…Until tonight.’
‘What?’
‘You’ve never been back here…until tonight.’
‘No. And you can see why.’ As if reminded of their situation, Jack swiftly unfastened his arms from round her and got to his feet. He went to stand by the door, listening for any approaching feet.
‘Yes. So why on earth did you come back tonight?’ Jane stared at him wide-eyed.
He turned and looked at her intently. ‘Can’t you guess?’
She thought deeply, then exclaimed, ‘Oh Jack. How awful. You were hoping to make it up and then—’
Jack gave a bitter laugh. ‘As if.’
‘So w
hy would you risk…’
Jack raised an eyebrow. ‘You really can’t think of a reason, can you?’
She racked her brains, then something about the way he was looking at her made her gasp in astonishment.
Surely not. Something to do with her?
The intense look on his face gave her the answer.
Forgetting the danger they were in, Jack crossed the room and, seizing her shoulders, he pulled her into his arms as he had been aching to do for so long. To his surprise, as he bent to kiss her, she entwined her arms round his neck and reached up and kissed him first. His eyes opened in wonder then, lacing his fingers behind her back, he pulled her tightly into him and kissed her deeply and tenderly. Her body moulded into his as she pressed herself fiercely against him. There was no denying the passion in her response, and his desire ignited as they kissed with increasing fervour.
She arched her neck back and he bent to kiss the beating pulse in the hollow of her throat, but just as he was about to pull the flimsy dress from her shoulders, some sixth sense alerted him to danger.
With a sudden swift movement, he thrust the astonished Jane away from him, muttering huskily, ‘Not here. Not now.’
Just in time. The door was flung open, and a slightly swaying Scott stood in the doorway.
‘Ah. Here you are, Arabella. That waiter said you were hiding in here. With him.’ He gestured drunkenly at Jack standing by the window, apparently composed, but Jane could see the effort it was taking him to appear calm.
Thank goodness Jack had pushed her back onto the sofa. Her trembling legs would not have held her up. If Scott hadn’t been quite so drunk, he surely would have noticed the electric atmosphere in the room and the intense flush that had spread over her throat and shoulders.
Scott slurred, ‘Had you forgotten you are supposed to be here with me? I paid for all that stuff today for my benefit, not his.’
Jane flared with anger at the crudeness of Scott’s statement. It brought her to her senses as quickly as a dowse of cold water.
‘You’re my date, remember?’ He leant over her and glared into her face.
Jane immediately leapt up and confronted him.
‘And I stayed by your side as you hawked me round the party as your girlfriend. Even though you know I’m not.’ Jane was livid now. How dare he think he could buy her with a dress and some beautifying? ‘You were the one who left me to go and talk to those…bimbos.’
Scott frowned, as though trying to piece together the sequence of events at the party. Then he grinned guiltily as he seemed to remember whatever he’d been up to with the two starstruck, pneumatic beauties Jane had mentioned.
Jane was pretty sure he would much rather still be with them than with her. No doubt she was proving to be a real kill-joy to Scott.
Still swaying slightly, Scott frowned foggily at the figure standing tall by the window.
‘Anyway, what’s he doing here? Mom said he was keeping an eye on me, but I think he came to see you. You can’t fool me. I know what he’s doing,’ he leered. ‘You’re trying to win the bet, aren’t you, Jack?’
Jack turned at his words and flashed a worried glance at Jane. ‘As you know, Scott, no such bet exists,’ he said coldly, ‘and it’s a good job I was here to rescue Jane from…’
He stopped as his eye was caught by a shadowy figure in the hall. His father stepped forward, accompanied by two hulking presences.
‘Jackson, my boy,’ Bruno said. ‘I rather think it’s time you left. Don’t you?’
The two ape-like bouncers advanced menacingly.
‘Oh, don’t you worry, Bruno, I’m going. You don’t have to employ any strong-arm tactics either. After all, you don’t want the scandal of being seen to evict your own beloved son from his family home, do you?’
He bent down to Jane and said rapidly in an urgent undertone, ‘Bruno won’t allow you to come with me. He would love an excuse for a brawl and you could get hurt. Go home now. With Scott, if you have to, but go home. Promise. And promise you will ring me if you have any problems.’
Out loud he said, ‘Any trouble, Jane, just ring the police. They always respond to trouble at parties… And so do the paparazzi.’
Jane nodded.
Bruno’s eyes blazed.
‘I think I can handle this situation for you, Mr Vittori.’ Hank shouldered aside the two bouncers, and roughly grabbed Jack by the arm. ‘Come along with me, sir. And you’d better not give me any trouble.’
Hank looked really quite fierce, but managed a quick wink at Jane as Jack strode out of the room without a backward glance.
Chapter Sixteen
‘You had to go and spoil it, didn’t you? I spent all that money on you, and you had to go off and leave me…and end up with…him.’
Scott was slouching drunkenly in the far corner of the car. ‘And now Bruno is angry…with me!’
On and on he grumbled petulantly as they drove home. ‘It’s not my fault. I was having a really nice time…’
Jane was far too busy thinking through the events of the party to bother listening. Everything was much clearer now. All that had happened to Jack, it explained everything.
He had come to the party because of her. She glowed at the thought, totally impervious to Scott’s whingeing.
Scott was gazing blearily at the lights. It just wasn’t fair. He had really been looking forward to the party, and now here he was with…with…her. He glanced angrily across at Jane.
He was really, really missing Savannah. He desperately wanted her back. She would have been great at the party. She would have known how to pose properly for the photos, would have said all the right things to all the right people. By now, they would have been cuddled up on the back seat, nicely gossiping about all the goings-on and who’d said what.
If only they hadn’t had that row. He couldn’t even remember what had sparked it, but he was pretty sure it hadn’t been his fault. He hadn’t really been drinking too much lately. And she really shouldn’t keep trying to control him. He had been around Hollywood all his life, and she would do well to remember it. And how dare she advise him on how to play their love scene.
If only she hadn’t accused him of getting too big-headed. That had been the last straw.
At first, he’d thought it was great when Arabella, or whatever her name was, had fainted at his feet. She wasn’t the usual bimbo-type so he had reckoned this was a girl who could really make Savannah jealous. Arabella was an unknown quantity, with an exotic name, and a cute English accent, who would really make Savannah puzzled and uneasy. Then she would soon be back, begging his forgiveness and they could have a wonderful tearful reconciliation.
He really, really wanted a reconciliation.
And earlier tonight, it had all been working out as he’d hoped. The room was abuzz when he made his grand entrance with Arabella on his arm. She had been worth every penny spent on the grooming and outfit. Her classy accent had wowed them, just as he knew it would. She was fresh and new, so there was a real air of mystery around her.
It would have been even better if Savannah had shown up, as she was supposed to do. How wonderful if there had been a fight over him. Slumped in the corner, he licked his lips at the thought.
But Arabella hadn’t played the part as well as she should have done. She had gone all icy on Maximilian Mostyn, and given him some sort of put-down. The producer hadn’t quite understood what she had said, but the tone and look had been enough, and Scott had been forced to scoot after him to smooth things over. You really couldn’t upset these moguls. As a child in Tinseltown, he had learnt the lessons early and he had learnt them well. For all he was a big shot now, he still knew you had to tread carefully. One slip and it could all disappear.
Normally, he could rely on his super-savvy mom to watch his back, but not tonight. He had spotted her laughing with Jack in a corner. How he hated that sickly adoring look on her face whenever she gazed at that guy.
His resentment at Jack simmered.
What the heck was he doing at the party anyway? Wasn’t there some sort of a feud between him and Bruno? And how had he ended up in that dark little room with Jane?
He sat bolt upright in his seat.
‘Of course. The bet. That’s what it was. The bet.’
‘What?’ Jane stopped gazing dreamily out of the window, and looked at Scott in surprise.
‘It’s the bet,’ he said again. ‘That’s why he came to the party!’
‘Who?’
‘Jack. That’s why he searched you out and enticed you into that little room. He was trying to win the bet.’
‘I don’t know what bet you are talking about. But I was with Jack because Bruno was after him with some mean-looking bodyguards.’
‘Huh. I expect he told you some sort of a tale about how bad Bruno was, didn’t he?’ Scott scoffed.
‘Yes. And it wasn’t a tale.’
‘Of course, it was. Everyone knows how Jack bad-mouthed his father, how ungrateful he was, in spite of Bruno giving him everything.’
‘That’s not the true story.’
‘Of course, it is. He attacked his father about something, and when Bruno tried to defend himself, he caught him with his ring. I was there when Jack came crying to my mom, covered in blood. She was supposed to be coming to watch me at the school play, but he came whining at the door and spoilt it all. She stayed and looked after him, so my stepdad had to take me and she missed my performance; my first starring role. Then when we got back, guess what? It was only a tiny cut. All that fuss about nothing.’
Even after all these years, Scott’s bitterness hadn’t abated.
‘Then he stayed hanging about our house for weeks, mooning around. My mom was all over him, worrying about him.’
As he expected, Jane leapt to Jack’s defence. ‘Well, he had nowhere else to go. Bruno had chucked him out without—’
‘No, he hadn’t. Bruno came round to our house and had a long talk with my mom. Must have told Mom his side of the story, and made her see reason. Anyway, she asked Jack to leave pretty soon after that. Kicked him out, not before time. No more sponging on us.’