by JS Taylor
I bat James’s arm and glower at him.
“Camilla has been single for a while too,” I say meaningfully.
James shrugs, but I can see from his face he’s conceded to give the overprotective vibe a rest.
I smile at Bradley, reassuring with my eyes that he has more chance than James is making out. He smiles back nervously.
Camilla looks up at us through her long lashes as we approach. Her long body is set suggestively to one side, and her vampish eye make-up makes her look like a sultry temptress.
I feel Bradley’s nerves build as we approach.
“This is Camilla,” I say as we home in on her. “Camilla, this is Bradley.”
Camilla’s eyes flick to Bradley, and suddenly she is reduced to floor-staring. Her cheeks flush in two adorable pink circles.
I push down a sudden urge to push them both together.
They’re both so shy. This is too cute.
But it turns out I’ve misjudged Bradley. He’s more than man enough to deal with the situation.
Stepping forward boldly, he takes Camilla’s hand in his, shaking it in greeting.
“Hi,” he says. “You’re the most incredible girl I’ve ever seen… Uh. I mean. Your outfit. Is the most incredible. It’s the best one here and…”
He stops, looking pained. “I’m sorry,” he adds. “I’m not normally this stupid. You look great is all.”
He smiles disarmingly. His hand is still holding hers, and their fingers are locked together, each unwilling to let go first.
Camilla looks up shyly. “Hi,” she whispers. I see their eyes meet.
Whoa! Looks like Cupid has just entered the building.
“I like your outfit too,” she adds. She’s gazing back at him, and they stand silently drinking each other in, their hands still joined.
Realising we’re all watching, Camilla pulls her hand away, suddenly embarrassed. Bradley’s gaze is fixed on her adoringly, oblivious that James and I are here.
“We should go,” I whisper to James, dragging him away.
Camilla and Bradley don’t even notice us leave.
“Can I get you a drink?” I hear Bradley asking as we slip away.
“Wow,” I say as we move back into the crowd. “Talk about love at first sight. How romantic was that?”
James smiles back at me.
“It reminds me how I felt when I first saw you.”
What?
I turn to him in amazement.
“When you first saw me? You felt like that?”
James nods.
“But… But… You were distant. Bordering on rude,” I add, reliving the memory.
I couldn’t get a handle on him at all when we first met. I assumed he didn’t like me.
James shrugs. “I’m a little better at disguising my feelings than young Bradley. But when I first met you… I felt very unsure and uncertain. I guess I knew my whole world had just changed.”
I throw my arm around his waist and lean into his chest.
“I felt that way too,” I say. “But I guess you knew that, by the fact that I was blushing the whole audition.”
He smiles.
“James Berkeley,” I breathe, “the original ice-man. You sure had me fooled.”
“Steady,” he says, “I think you’ve melted me, at least a little.”
I smile up at him.
“You know what? I think I have,” I decide. “But let’s find out for sure. How do you feel about a little bet?”
“Gambling again, Ms Green? You know you lost the last bet?”
A flash of memory sparks back, of our race in the Barcelona park and our hotel room tryst afterwards.
“I’m feeling lucky,” I decide, surveying the gaming tables. Surely gambling is only about luck, after all?
“Are you proposing the same terms?” says James. His eyes are alight, and dangerous. “If I win, I can do whatever I like with you, when we get home?”
I nod, my mouth suddenly dry as I catch his expression.
He grabs my arm and practically frog-marches me towards the tables.
“I accept,” he says. “Now, which game would you like to lose at?”
Chapter 24
It turns out that I’ve made two key errors. Firstly, it turns out many casino games do require skill. And secondly, James is highly adept at gambling.
He beats me at every card game in quick succession, with enviable ease.
“I thought casinos were about throwing dice,” I sigh as James motions for the dealer to draw another card.
“They’re the games you’d have a chance of winning,” he says, his eyes flashing. “Why would I play you at those, when the stakes are so high?”
“And how is it that you’re so good at cards?” I ask in exasperation as he lays yet another winning hand.
“Misspent youth,” he admits. “Boarding school evenings with nothing to do.”
I consider my options. So far, I’m $4000 down to James. And there’s clearly no chance at beating him at a game of skill.
My eyes drift to the roulette table.
A game of luck, I decide. That’s my only chance.
“Roulette next,” I say, taking his arm and drawing him over.
“However you want to lose your money is fine with me,” says James, grinning.
We arrive at the table, and James begins laying his money on carefully chosen bets. He’s spreading chips over the dealer bets and roulette numbers with practised ease.
I put my hand on his arm, stopping him from laying any more chips.
“Wait,” I say. “This is all or nothing. Everything on red or black.”
He turns to me with a raised eyebrow.
“Making this luck alone, Ms Green. Not very sporting.”
“You have to give me some chance of winning,” I say.
James tilts his head slightly, the ghost of a smile on his face. “Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, Ms Green. I don’t intend on giving you any chance of winning. The prize, you see, it’s just too tempting for me to risk.”
“What about being a gentleman?” I protest weakly, melting under his dark gaze. I’m aiming for his Achilles, since I know how important his gentlemanly manners are to him.
James shakes his head, his green eyes pinning me. “You set the stakes. Every man has his price, Isabella,” he murmurs. “The price at which their usual courtesies are forgotten.” He moves his hand to sweep along my body, and I find myself pressing into his touch.
“My price, it seems,” he whispers. “Is you.”
I lift my eyes to his.
“If you win this game now,” I say, “we’ll go back to your apartment right away. And you can do whatever you like with me.”
I feel his body tense.
“But if we play your way,” I say slowly, toying with a gaming chip and filling my eyes with pretended innocence, “I’ll just have to keep putting on small bets. Making my chips last.”
I land my eyes squarely on his.
“We might not finish the bet until the early hours,” I add, putting a little feigned sadness in my voice. “And I know how impatient you are.”
The expression on his face is admiring.
“That’s almost cheating, Ms Green,” he breathes.
“Almost,” I agree, “but I think you’ll find it’s in the terms of our agreement. And you’ve already set the precedent for dishonourable play,” I add.
“You’re quite right,” says James, considering me. “I have.”
He pauses for a moment. “Very well, Ms Green,” he says. “We’ll play it your way. All or nothing. Red or black.”
He leans in close to my ear.
“But when I win,” he says in deadly tones, “I will show you no mercy, whatsoever.”
I feel my body constrict.
“So then,” says James, straightening up. “What will you choose? Red or black?”
“Red,” I say, my voice trembling slightly.
“You don’t sound certain,” he s
ays silkily, enjoying the moment.
“I am.”
“Very well. Then I’m black.”
The roulette wheel is spinning to a close from the last bet, and we wait for a long moment whilst the croupier clears the chips.
Every muscle in my body is tense.
“Place your bets,” murmurs James.
I slide my remaining chips onto red.
James places his far larger pile onto black, and regards me dangerously.
“Last bets,” announces the croupier. “And this is the midnight bet folks. Winners are paid out the entire table winnings for the night.”
He regards James and I, the only gamblers on the table.
“So I guess that will either be you, Mr Berkeley, or the lady,” he adds.
“It will be me,” says James. He’s not smiling.
The croupier shrugs. And then he leans in and gives the large wheel a practised spin.
I watch with my heart in my mouth as it wheels round and round, and slows, clicking towards its eventual destination.
Red. Black. Red. Black. Red. Black. Red. Black.
I can hardly bear to watch.
Red.
Black.
Beside me, I can feel James’s taut body. Every muscle in him is strained, staring at the ball as it bounces across the roulette wheel.
Red.
Black.
James turns to me, victorious. And then the wheel gives one last movement.
Red.
Red!
I gasp in delight. Beside me, James shakes his head and curses under his breath.
“Surely you’re not a sore loser,” I admonish, taking in his dark expression.
“No,” he admits. “But you must expect there’ll be some payback for this.”
“Oh no,” I shake my head. “You lost, fair and square.”
He frowns. “You used your feminine wiles on me,” he protests.
I kiss him on the cheek. “Never underestimate your opponent,” I admonish, “particularly not when she risks a spanking if she loses,” I add, leaning to whisper this last part in his ear.
James grins at this, and I move to collect my winnings. But the croupier holds up a hand.
“Yours was the midnight bet,” he says, “so you win the value of all the bets placed on this table this evening.”
This gets better and better.
I beam at the croupier.
“So how much have I won?”
The croupier slides chips at dizzying speed.
“This was a popular table,” he says. “It’s a good win.”
He begins pushing towering stacks of chips towards me.
“$100,000,” he says. “And your original stake. $1000.”
I turn to James, my smile wide. “The Vespa!” I say. “I can claim it.”
James smiles back.
“Yes,” he says, “you can. But don’t think I’ll let you ride it without lessons.” He turns to the croupier. “Could you arrange to have the ladies chips cashed and exchanged for the Vespa?”
The croupier nods and begins scooping back chips.
“Oh, wait!” I say, grabbing up two $500 chips. I turn to James. “Can I use chips as a tip?”
James nods. “The croupiers can redeem them, the same as the guests.”
I wave at the croupier. “Here. Your tip.” I place the tips by the croupier and he smiles in acknowledgment.
“I’ve always wanted to do that,” I admit to James.
He takes my arm.
“I’m afraid I can’t allow you to cash your bet with me tonight,” he says, leading me gently towards the door of the studios.
“Oh? And why not?”
“Because I’ve been watching you in this rather skimpy outfit all evening,” he replies, “and if you don’t let me take you home and fuck you, something very bad might happen.”
I smile at him. “I guess I can let the bet slide for one night. But what happened to romance, Mr Berkeley?”
“We’ve got plenty of time for that.” His face softens, and he pulls me close. “Issy, we have the entire summer ahead of us. We don’t have to hide anymore, and all the drama is behind us. Believe me, I’m going to take full advantage of it.”
I smile at him, my mind drifting to the months to come. We have a few more months of filming. Then James will be in production, putting the movie together. After that we’ll have the premier.
Just the idea of attending a premier as an actual actress is beyond exciting.
But as I allow an image of James and I, in party clothes, to flash into my mind, another dark image strikes. The stalker.
My body tenses, and James pulls me close, frowning.
“What’s wrong? You don’t like the idea of a summer together?”
“No… I…” I force a smile, forcing the image away. “I’m just a little chilly is all.”
James smiles. “I knew you weren’t wearing enough clothes. Let’s get you back.”
I let him lead me, trying to forget the strange foreboding I’d just felt.
Please, I pray, let us just enjoy each other now. Let us enjoy this summer.
Chapter 25
The next few months pass in a delirious daze. Filming with James is a dream come true. Natalie is finally behaving herself. And everything is working perfectly.
Bradley has fit in just fine. And it’s obvious to anyone that he and Camilla are made for each other. They’re taking it slow, because of the filming. But you can see they’re madly in love.
It’s summertime, and life is good. Better than good.
On Madison’s advice, I’ve taken on the role of caring for Natalie. And it’s proved so successful, I’ve grown in confidence. More recently, I’ve begun extending my maternal nature to the rest of the crew as well.
I’ve even made a few suggestions to James as to how we might all work more comfortably. And the result has been a real feeling of team camaraderie. There is genuine mutual respect between us all. So we’re working as a great team, the cast and crew. All of us are enjoying a secret feeling that we’re working on something really special.
In theory, this film is a romantic comedy. Not something likely to attract great critical acclaim, but robust enough for box office profits. In reality, there’s so much more to this film. The depth which Grace is revealing and the transformation in Tom’s hard-bitten editor character is so moving.
James has done exactly what he told me he would. He’s brought a fairy tale to life, made it real. At the heart of the movie, Grace’s purity is what saves Tom and transforms him from a monster back into a man.
Acting together has brought James and I closer than I thought possible.
Our days are spent making scene after scene. But as promised, James and I have also started working on a script. And this project has begun to fill me with as much excitement as the filming.
Every evening for the past month, we’ve slipped away for a private dinner and a glass of wine, to bounce ideas off each other for the characters and the story.
In terms of script writing, we seem to be the ideal foil for one another.
The gaps in the plot which I was struggling with, James intuitively knew how to fill. And the character parts, which James admits he’s less adept at, I’m growing with dialogue.
But there is one issue which prevents my total happiness.
Lorna.
When I’m not inventing an exciting new world with James, or immersed in acting, Lorna is always on the back of my mine.
She’s always been difficult to get hold of, but now she’s gone completely incommunicado.
I’ve not heard a word from her since the pregnancy revelation, despite what now amounts to hundreds of phone calls and messages.
I’ve returned to our Chelsea flat to find her clothes still there, and waited hours for her return. But to no avail.
In the end, I called Lorna’s mother, and to my great relief, found she’d spoken to Lorna recently. So at least I didn’t have to s
tart thinking about a missing person’s report.
But I didn’t feel able to grill Lorna’s mother for details, since she obviously had no idea her daughter is pregnant. And I know Lorna is scared to tell her mum.
On my insistence, James has called Ben, but he too has mysteriously vanished. So I’m nursing a secret hope that the two of them have gone off to start a life together.
But overall, I’m faced with a horrible fact.
My best friend is pregnant. And she doesn’t want to talk to me.
By the time we’re shooting the last movie scenes, I’ve all but given up hope of hearing from Lorna.
Then, on the very last day of filming, my phone rings. And I nearly drop the handset in surprise to see my best friend’s name.
“Lorna!” My voice is a mixture of relief, shock and accusation. “Where on earth have you been? Are you ok?” My words come out as rapid staccato.
“Chill, chill,” says Lorna, sounding amused. “Good to hear from you too. Can you come let me in?”
“What?” Her question momentarily throws out the interrogation I’m about to launch on her.
“Come let me in,” she repeats patiently, as though asking the most normal thing in the world. “I’m outside the studio.”
“You’re… You’re outside the studio??” I take a hasty step, trip on a lighting cable, and begin marching away from the set with my phone glued to my ear.
I see a couple of crew members glance at me, and raise my hand to signal I’m ok.
“Yup,” says Lorna.
“Are you ok? Where have you been?” I demand.
“I’m all good,” says Lorna. “Just come get me.”
“You do mean Berkeley Studios right?” I clarify, breaking into a fast stride now and trying to deal with the strangeness of her sudden appearance.
“Well,” replies Lorna, “there’s a big sign here saying Berkeley Studios. So that sounds about right. But there’s a gate too. And some job’s-worth who won’t let me in without a pass.”
“Wait there. I’ll be right there. Just tell me you’re really alright,” I add, thinking I won’t be able to bear the few minutes journey to the studio entrance without knowing.
“I’m fine. Totally fine,” says Lorna, sounding confused. “See you in a sec.”