by Alexia Adams
“I hope they pay you for your looks and not your brain at that fancy job of yours. Because that is about the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Thanks, Mum.”
“No, I’m serious. You want immediately what it took your father and me forty years to achieve. Do you think that at the start of our marriage we were perfectly in synch? I worked nights nursing at the hospital and your father worked days in construction. It was years before we were on the same schedule. And even then things weren’t rosy. Marriage takes work, Jonathan. And compromise. So unless you’re willing to make the effort, then you tell that girl there’s no hope and let her find a man worthy of her.”
He opened his mouth to answer. A vision of Olivia with another man filled his mind, making his chest tighten and his stomach roil. But could he give up his dream of a normal family life to be with her? And what about Hannah? She had to factor into any decision he made.
“I’ll take your suggestion under advisement.”
“You do that.”
He already knew what he had to do.
Chapter 18
Olivia closed the door of her tiny flat behind her and slid to the floor. Five hours of keeping it together because the early train had stopped at every two-pub town in all of England had done her in. Thankfully, the friend she’d let stay at her flat while she was at Jonathan’s had made up with her boyfriend and moved out. She couldn’t do company right now. She didn’t know if she could do breathing right now. God it hurt.
She crawled over to the sofa and stared at the ceiling. So this is what heartbreak felt like. Odd that the pain wasn’t restricted to just her heart. It should be called everything break. No matter how hard she’d tried to be sensible and practical, she’d fallen in love with Jonathan. At least she hadn’t slept with him. Her bitter laugh filled the room. Some consolation.
Her phone rang and for a stupid, idiotic second she thought maybe it was Jonathan. Begging her to come back. As if.
Still her heart raced until she checked the caller display. Her agent. Maxine was probably calling to say the corporate clients wanted someone else—that Olivia had just given up everything for nothing.
She took two deep breaths and lowered the volume on her phone before she answered the call.
“Hello, Maxine.”
“You’ve made it, darling. I’ve been in negotiations all weekend but we finally nailed down the biggest contract of your career. You are the new face of Rêve Privé perfume. Television advertisements, billboards, magazines, the whole works. Three years. Five million pounds a year. They said they’d even consider sponsoring that charity thing you wanted to do. But they want exclusivity. You can’t model for anyone else. I said you wouldn’t have a problem with that.”
“I—”
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, darling. I just wanted to share the good news with you right away. Meet me at my office at 9 a.m. sharp and we’ll go through the details.” There was a tinkle of glassware in the background and then Maxine giggled. “Actually, better make that eleven. Ciao, darling.”
Olivia tried to process the news. She’d just been handed her dream. So why don’t I feel happy?
Everything she’d ever wanted. Except Jonathan. The hollowness inside threatened to consume her. Her heartbreak had become a black hole sucking in her dreams.
• • •
Come on, inner peace. Get a move on. I’ve got a busy day and could really use your help.
Olivia sat cross-legged on her sitting room floor six days after returning from Leeds and recited her current mantra. I am complete. I am happy. I am helping others. It wasn’t working. Her body was chanting back too loudly, “We want Jonathan. We want Jonathan.”
“Well you ain’t getting him,” she said aloud. She’d given herself two days to wallow in self-pity and a bucket of Häagen-Dazs. Now it was up to work and exercise to exhaust her body so she could sleep. That wasn’t doing it either.
She uncrossed her legs and headed to the shower. She had to be at the studio by ten for another day’s filming of her first TV advertisement. Who knew a thirty-second commercial took three days to film? At least learning all the new techniques was keeping her mind off Jonathan. Sort of.
Before she reached the bathroom, someone banged on her front door. As they didn’t stop pounding, it sounded urgent. Had something happened to Hannah? Or Jonathan? Her heart went into hyperdrive and she wrenched open the door.
The woman on the step seemed at once familiar and foreign. Her dull brown hair was matted and looked like it hadn’t been washed or combed in months. When she opened her mouth, several teeth were missing and a couple others were rotten and on the verge of falling out. Olivia guessed her to be in her early sixties. A rancid smell assailed her nostrils. Door-to-door begging. Just what Olivia needed to deal with today.
“Are you going to stand there gawking all day and let your own mother catch her death of cold?” the woman demanded, pushing her way past Olivia and into the hallway.
“Mother?” The word didn’t compute. When she’d last seen her mother, seven years ago, her hair had been blond, although dyed. Ellen had always been vain enough to keep any dark roots from showing. She’d also maintained a degree of hygiene, obviously finding it easier to coax men into giving her money when she was clean and presentable. The woman who stood before her now bore only a passing resemblance to the mother who had left her, young, terrified, and nearly bleeding to death in the hospital.
“Yes, your mother, Ellen Chapman. Did you think you’d be able to hide your good fortune and not pay me back for all the money I spent on you when you were young?” She pulled off her filthy coat and dropped it on the floor. Olivia was struck with a stench of body odor so overpowering, she reeled back.
“Ellen, why are you here?”
“I told you, I’ve come to collect.” Ellen shoved a crumpled copy of a newspaper into her hands before pushing past her and into the flat. Olivia glanced at the article, an announcement of her contract, complete with the photo of her and Jonathan. She stared at the picture of Jonathan for a second before she closed the door and followed her mother into the flat. Ellen was surveying the room as though deciding which objects would net her in the most cash. “You’ve certainly done well for yourself, my girl. All those years of acting superior to everyone you came in contact with obviously paid off. I know you look down on me, despise me. Even when you were five years old, you used to glare down that pretty brown nose of yours. But you’re really no better, are you? I whored myself for drugs and drink. You’ve sold yourself for fancy clothes.”
“I haven’t sold myself. I’ve worked hard to get where I am today. No thanks to you,” she threw back at her mother.
“I gave you a roof over your head and food to eat. So what if I didn’t coddle you or cry every time you fell over. You grew up strong and independent. Too independent. You’ve forgotten all about your poor mother and your responsibility to me.”
“I had no idea whether you were dead or alive. You certainly didn’t seem to care if I was.” She hugged herself. Her mother had no power over her now. So why did her chest feel like it was being crushed under an enormous weight?
“Before you had nothing to give me. Now you do.” Her mother shrugged. She spied Olivia’s purse on the coffee table and quick as flash, she pocketed all the cash. Money that Olivia had taken out to pay for a cab to the studio.
“How did you find me?” Olivia’s eyes burned. She couldn’t believe that meeting her mother after all these years could reduce her to feeling like a schoolgirl again.
“I’ve kept my eye on you over the years. Watched the parade of men come and go from between your legs. Imagine my surprise when I was getting comfy with a bit of newspaper for added cushioning and there was my own daughter’s face stuck on my arse. I had a right laugh, I did.” She cackled and Olivia’s stomach roiled.
“I owe you nothing, Ellen. And I want you out of my house.” Olivia pointed at the door, trying to disguise her han
d shaking.
“I don’t think so, my dear. If you won’t give me any money I’ll go get it from your rich banker. Sweet deal you had with him, nice house and all. You were a fool to let him go. Was the brat too much for you? Still, ex or not, I’m sure he’ll pay me to keep quiet about his girlfriend’s past. These rich blokes don’t like their dirty laundry aired in public.” Ellen plopped down on the sofa.
“There are no stories about my past, Ellen. I have nothing to hide from anyone,” she said, struggling to keep her voice even. The room began to blur. She hated the fact that her mother could reduce her to tears as if she were a child.
“Does he know you seduced one of my boyfriends, got pregnant, and then aborted the baby?” Ellen spat at her.
“That’s not what happened and you know it.” Olivia sucked in a huge breath. She would not cower before this woman.
“I didn’t say they’d be true stories.” Ellen hauled herself off the sofa and headed to the kitchen. From the sound of a cork popping and bubbles hitting a glass, Olivia guessed she’d found the bottle of champagne her agent had sent to congratulate her on achieving her dream. Except she hadn’t felt like celebrating.
Olivia glanced at the clock. Her mother was too big for her to carry out of her flat, and she knew from experience that Ellen could fight like a cornered badger when she wanted. If she called the police and waited for them to come, she’d be late for work. Not a good idea as she’d just started. The only solution was to go to work and hope Ellen got bored and left before Olivia returned. She could always call the police to evict her later.
Olivia ignored her mother who was spilling champagne all over her sofa and headed to the bathroom. Could this day get any worse?
Chapter 19
Olivia stood on her mark, waiting for the director to call action. All she had to do was stare out the fake window, fingering the flimsy curtain, get kissed on the neck by a male model in his underpants, then give her signature look to the camera. Easy. Except they’d already made ten attempts at it and the director still wasn’t happy.
“Ms. Chapman, you need to look like you actually want the man to make love to you. Not like he’s something you scraped off your shoe before you came through the door.”
Every time she’d tried, her mother’s comment about the parade of men between her thighs would resurface and Olivia’s mouth filled with bile. So not the sexy look she was aiming for. She was a professional. She could do this. Forget your mother. Forget your heartbreak. Make the world want to buy Rêve Privé perfume. Got it.
She nodded to the crew that she was ready, but before she could fondle the curtain, a commotion at the back of the set caught her attention.
“I’m sorry, sir. This is a closed set. You can’t be here.” The security guard blocked the way but he was shorter than the intruder and Olivia could see a tall blond man at the door. Jonathan. Her heart rate sped up and her mouth went dry.
Another security guard approached them as Jonathan didn’t seem inclined to go.
“Wait. He’s with me,” she called out. Body one, mind zero. Any semblance of inner peace—shot to hell.
“We have a shoot to finish here.” The director’s sharp voice sliced through her brain melt.
“I have an idea,” she said. “Jonathan, if you would stand just behind camera two … ” She gestured toward the applicable camera but didn’t look him in the eye. Without making a comment, however, he moved into position. She turned back to the director. “Okay, ready.”
“Action!”
She grabbed the drapery, forcing her fingers to relax. The rest of the scene played out as planned. When it came time for her to look into the camera, she let all the love and desire she felt for Jonathan show in her face.
The director’s call of “cut” seemed to come from far away. Silence fell over the set until someone at the back whistled and said, “Wow.” She shifted her gaze from the camera to Jonathan. An expression of astonishment covered his face. Once again, her body overrode her control and she took a step toward him. The director’s voice stopped her.
“That was perfect, Ms. Chapman. We’ll just get some still shots for the magazine campaign, then we can call it a wrap.”
The still shots could take another hour or two. She couldn’t wait that long to find out why Jonathan was here. If it was only to ask what kind of breakfast cereal Hannah preferred she’d probably kill him.
“Can I have a quick break?” she asked.
The director glanced at his watch. “Five minutes while we reset the lighting.”
Jonathan stepped around from behind the camera and met her halfway.
“Hi,” he said, tentatively.
“Hi, back.” When he continued to stare, she asked, “Why are you here?” She folded her arms to stop them from reaching for him.
“You forgot something at my place.”
Great, he’s come to give me the pair of knickers I left in the dryer. He opened the backpack slung over his shoulder and pulled out the statue he’d bought in Brisighella of the entwined lovers. A stabbing pain pierced her heart. Why was he being so cruel?
She sucked in a deep breath. “I left that on purpose. That was a gift to your girlfriend. I no longer fill that role.” And she didn’t need any more reminders of what could have been.
“No, you’re not my girlfriend.” Like with her mother that morning, she refused to show how much the words hurt. “I also brought you this.” He passed her the statue to hold while he removed an envelope from his jacket pocket. If this was a reference for her work as a nanny she’d bash him over the head with the figurine. He handed her the paper and she scanned the brief, typewritten letter.
“You’ve quit your job?” She stared again at the letter before raising her eyes to him. The love she’d caught a glimpse of that morning in his parents’ kitchen was displayed fully. The flicker of hope that had sprung to life at his arrival flamed into an inferno. “So, what are you going to do now?”
“I was hoping you’d hire me. I’m most interested in a position as your bodyguard, but I’m willing to do anything—carry your bags, fetch your coffee, whatever. As long as I’m near you. Although the job I just did works for me. What title do you think I should put on my business card? Lust inducer to Ms. Chapman?”
“I’ve not been paid yet so I don’t know that I can afford the printing for such a long title. How about ‘lover’?”
Jonathan took the statue from her hand and put it on the floor before putting both arms around her. “No. Lover is too transient and doesn’t cover all the things I want to be to you. Fiancé perhaps?”
“I thought you said you’d never marry another model.” Because if this still all hinged on her giving up her job …
“I said that when I was an idiot. Six torturous days without you has shown me the light. I love you and want to be with you. I don’t care about your job. So, I’m hoping that you’ll forget boyfriend/girlfriend and promote me.”
She laughed, unable to contain her joy any longer. “Is that your idea of a proposal? Because that’s never going to cut it. Besides, fiancé is something you have to work up to, it’s not an entry-level position.”
“Ah, I’ve heard about the casting couch. Well, I’m prepared to do whatever it takes. I’m sure you’ll find I’m a hard worker.” She could feel his erection where it was pressed against her.
“You’d better be. I’ve no room for slackers in my life.” She shifted her body to rub against him. His arm tightened around her.
The director called, “One minute.”
“Do you think I could get an advance on my salary to keep me going until you’re done here?”
She raised an eyebrow. Did he seriously think she was going to pay him?
“A kiss?” His sexy voice dropped another octave.
His head lowered to hers but she put a hand on his chest to stop him. “The makeup artist has a black belt in karate. You don’t want to risk a beating by smearing my lipstick.”
“I’ll make it worth it,” he whispered, a centimeter away.
“If you’re going to carry my bags and fetch my coffee and … do other stuff … ” She trailed a finger down the V-neck of her dress. “I need you able to walk.”
He groaned. “All right. Shall I meet you at my place when you’re done here? There’s a huge four-poster bed that needs to be christened.”
It was tempting just to go back to his house. Make love to him all night long. Forget that her mother was probably passed out on her sofa. In fact, she didn’t ever need to go back to her flat. Let the landlord evict Ellen. As quickly as the idea formed, it fizzled. No. Ellen was a chapter of her life that needed to be closed before she could properly move on. “Actually, I have a problem I have to deal with first. I could use your help.”
“You need me?”
She could do it on her own. But didn’t want to. And he’d be able to see her past, what she’d come from, and then make an informed decision as to whether he truly wanted to be with her. “Yes. Will you wait?”
“Always.”
• • •
Jonathan stood on the sidelines as Olivia worked. She was professional and friendly. When an assistant knocked over a light that resulted in a ten-minute delay as they relit the scene, she never complained. In fact, she’d helped clean up the mess and given the frazzled junior a smile and encouragement to forget about it.
An hour and a half later, they were finally done. Olivia glided over to him as the crew started to dismantle the set.
“I can make that down payment now.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. The satin of the flimsy negligee she’d worn for the last part of the photo shoot was no barrier between them. He needed to keep this light or he’d be taking her on the prop bed in front of everyone. The instant her lips met his, however, all rational thought dissolved and he kissed her with all the love in his heart and passion in his body.
By the time she pushed against his chest, they were both breathing heavily. He held her hips near him so the whole crew didn’t get a glimpse of how much he wanted her right now. “I love you, Olivia. I was an idiot to ask you to give up your job. What you’re doing will help so many young girls.”