The Final Act (#4 Bestselling Spotlight Series)

by JS Taylor

“Issy!” He pulls me free and drags me into a tight hug.

  “Ow!” I laugh. “Easy! I think you crushed a rib!”

  He grips me even tighter, ignoring my reproach.

  “I’m just so glad to have you safe.” He pulls away a little, looking into my eyes. “Did he hurt you? Are you ok?”

  “I’m fine,” I say, mentally examining my body. “A few bruises where I fell, is all.”

  “Thank God.” James kisses my mouth.

  I struggle away from the tree, rubbing life back into my arms and legs.

  “How did you know I was here?” I ask. “I thought you were busy with the premiere.”

  The idea of Leicester Square and the premiere feels like a distant, strange dream now.

  “It was Natalie,” answers James. “She suspected something wasn’t right. She made some calls and found out that someone had requested your dress be sent to the wrong place.”

  Wow. Natalie. I guess I owe her one.

  “So you worked out that the stalker had set me a trap?” I deduce.

  “Not exactly,” says James. He lets out a long breath. “I spoke to my father,” he admits.

  He did?

  “You did?” Despite all that’s happened, I can’t help but be delighted at this small victory. If James is speaking to his father, it can only be good.

  “Yes,” says James. “And you were right. My father… He’s not as ashamed of me as I thought.” He looks abashed. “I guess I didn’t talk to him for so long, that I made the fear worse in my head,” he admits. “Although,” he adds sardonically, “I had a lot of explaining to do when he found out I’d had the police freeze his bank account.”

  I smile at him. “So he told you that he hadn’t been making payments to the stalker?”

  “Better than that,” says James. “My father was clever enough to work out that the payments must have been my cheques sent by Ben to his older brother.”

  He frowns.

  “Ben didn’t know,” I say, answering his suspicion. “He’s been sending guilt money for years, rather than pay a visit. He didn’t even know his brother had been let out. The asylum was sending your cheques to his lawyer.”

  James considers this. “The only profession on the planet low enough to keep the stalker’s identity secret,” he says, his face grim.

  “Poor Ben,” he adds with unexpected sympathy. “I guess he’ll have to find out his brother was driven over the edge.”

  I can see by James’s face where this is headed.

  “Stop that,” I say firmly. “It was nothing to do with you. Ben’s older brother was committed long before you came along. You were just the catalyst for his obsession. If it hadn’t been you, it would have been something else.”

  James considers this.

  “I’m just glad I found you before anything bad happened,” he says finally.

  “How did you find me here?” I ask. Berkeley Studios is a big place, after all. James could have searched for hours before deciding to check the forest.

  “I followed the stalker’s blood trail,” says James, raising an eyebrow. “It seems you’re more able to defend yourself than I gave your credit for,” he adds with a wry grin.

  I smile at him. “I guess so. I stabbed his leg with an arrow,” I add. “I grabbed it from the props department.”

  James tilts his head, considering this. “Very resourceful,” he says approvingly. “Perhaps I can be a little less protective of you in future.”

  Then I remember.

  “The stalker burned the costume warehouse,” I gasp, raising my hands to my mouth in horror. “All your costumes. James!”

  He shakes his head. “We have a very effective sprinkler system,” he says. “It put out the fire before there was any real damage. Only a few costumes were past saving, in any case,” he says, rolling his eyes. “What a thing to worry about. I’d have burned down ten costume warehouses just to find you safe.”

  I smile at him. “My hero.”

  “We aim to please.” He tips a pretend cap at me. “Come on,” he adds. “Let’s get you up. I’m taking you to a nice hotel, a long way from here. And we’ll forget this ever happened.”

  “But. What about the premiere?” I ask, wondering if the smoke got to me more than I realised. Did I skip a day?

  The premiere must be due to start any minute now.

  James shakes his head. “We’ve got an hour until it starts. I’m going to call it off,” he says. “It will be strange to have a movie without a premiere. But I’m sure the public will live.”

  “No!” I shout the words with more determination than I mean to.

  James looks shocked.

  “No.” I repeat. “I’m not going to do that. Then the stalker will have won. That’s what he would have wanted,” I add. “To sabotage your premiere.”

  James looks at me in disbelief. “Issy,” he says. “You have just been abducted by a violent psychopath. You have escaped from a fire and been dragged through a forest…”

  “A fake forest,” I point out.

  He laughs. “A fake forest,” he concedes. “But you can’t possibly be considering coming to the premiere after all you’ve been through.”

  “Why not?” I insist, meeting his gaze.

  He sighs loudly. “Only you, Isabella Green, could seriously ask that,” he says.

  James leans forwards, cupping my jaw.

  “Why not, is because you’ve been to hell and back,” he says, kissing my forehead. “You’ve been tied up and threatened with a knife,” he continues, moving down to kiss my nose. “Not to mention,” he concludes, touching his lips to mine, “you smell like a bonfire.”

  I laugh, kissing him back. “Wearing this dress, no one will notice,” I say, struggling to rise to my feet. He helps me stand, taking in the low-cut blue silk dress for the first time.

  “Point taken,” he says, letting his eyes linger on the plunging neckline. “And you can add another skill to your CV. ‘Keeps a designer dress in wearable condition, despite fire and forest chase’.”

  I look down at the dress. Apart from a few fake twigs, and a little dirt from the forest floor, it’s in a surprisingly good state.

  I dust it off experimentally. There’s a little rip on the hem, and some stitching is coming away at the shoulder. But given what I’ve just been through, I couldn’t care less.

  “It’s a talent every girl has,” I say, snapping off a hanging thread, “Give us a nice enough dress, and we’ll keep it mostly clean, come hell or high water.”

  The blood has almost come back to my legs now.

  “This is what you really want?” asks James. “To go to the premiere?”

  His face is a mixture of delight and incredulity.

  I nod. “It’s the principle,” I say. “I don’t want the stalker to win.”

  He takes me in his arms.

  “Will you ever stop amazing me,” he asks, “with your bravery?”

  I lean into his strong chest. “I won’t, as long as you don’t stop amazing me either,” I say.

  He kisses my mouth. “My strong beautiful Issy,” he murmurs. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

  Chapter 38

  As the car pulls up opposite the red carpet, I feel a wave of excitement.

  A thick herd of fans and unofficial reporters are pressed up against a metal barricade. And a further slew of official journalists and photographers are stood on the red carpet, their microphones and lenses primed.

  “You look incredible,” says James, leaning to whisper in my ear. “Are you nervous?”

  I shake my head. “Not with you.”

  James raises his eyebrows, catching my eyes in the mirror. “I thought you were going to say ‘not considering the afternoon you’ve had’.”

  “That too,” I admit.

  Usually, I would be crawling out of my skin at the prospect of all this attention directed my way. But it is almost impossible to feel nervous after what I’ve just been through.

 
Maybe I’m suited for this acting thing after all.

  I eye myself in the rear view mirror. I’ve certainly looked better. My make-up is no longer perfect. And though I’ve smoothed my dark hair the best I can, my dress looks as though its been worn a few times before. But really, I just don’t care.

  This is who I am. They can take me, or leave me.

  “Ready then?” says James. He pops the car door and steps out.

  From the inside, I hear the rush of noise as the crowd sees James. Then he’s reaching in and drawing me out.

  I rise up out of the car and stand proudly next to James.

  Flashbulbs are popping everywhere, like a dazzling starburst all around. And the noise of shouting fans and reporters is beyond intense.

  But stood next to him, I feel a sudden rush of pride.

  He’s mine. I’m his.

  I stand taller at his side, smiling out into the crowd. Together, we feel invincible. A force to be reckoned with.

  My fears vanish, replaced with an incredible feeling of strength.

  James Berkeley. My love for you can conquer anything.

  We stand for a moment, and the reporters pour forward, taking pictures and thrusting mics.

  A female reporter with a sweep of perfect blonde highlights is first to reach us.

  “We hear that Madison has given her blessing for your latest romance?” she asks, pointing her microphone meaningfully at James.

  He tilts his head indulgently towards me and pulls me closer.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t call it a romance,” he says with a mischievous grin. “I’d call this beautiful woman the love of my life.”

  He turns, and his green eyes land on mine. I grip him tighter, staring back.

  “But since you ask,” adds James, keeping his gaze firmly on me, “we do have Madison’s blessing.”

  “What about you, Isabella?” presses the woman, turning her attention to me now. “Is all this a little sudden?”

  I feel myself held in James’s gaze.

  “No,” I say, my voice coming stronger than I thought it would. “Not when you feel the way we feel about one another.”

  Other microphones have arrived now, and we’re suddenly buried in a shouting maelstrom of questions. James takes my arm and leads me firmly through the pack, towards the door of the movie theatre.

  “Are you ok?” he whispers as we make it through into the relative calm on the other side.

  “Yeah,” I reply. “Did I do it ok?”

  He squeezes my arm. “You did it better than ok,” he says. “You did it like a movie star.”

  Chapter 39

  We exit the movie in a sea of delighted faces. Everyone is talking excitedly, smiling and laughing. If I was in any doubt as to James’s power as a movie-maker, this is the evidence.

  He can lift a crowd, tell them a story, and make them think at the end of it. It’s a very powerful skill, which I’m only just coming to fully appreciate.

  Being part of the filming meant I saw the way James added depth and life. But seeing it all put together. It was beyond masterful.

  As we leave, I hear people talking about awards and Oscars.

  The general crowd is headed for the doors, but James steers me to the left.

  “We’re taking a secret exit,” he explains. “So we can avoid being mobbed.”

  “This way,” adds James, gesturing to a slim corridor heading away from the crowds.

  As we step into the corridor, we’re suddenly ringed by a troop of bodyguards who escort us out with hasty firmness. It’s a perfectly timed security operation.

  “They’ll make sure we get to the after party,” explains James as we arrive at a shining limo.

  We slip inside, and I let the strangeness of my new life settle around me.

  “This security is all because we’re a couple?” I ask. “Or would you do this after any premiere?”

  “A bit of both,” he admits. “Issy, this is something you’re going to have to get used to,” he adds, an apology in his tone. “You won’t be able to run out to the shops anymore, or go out shopping alone. You’ll be escorted at all times.”

  This is it then, I realise. No more normal life. Stupidly, I’d assumed I’d be able to slip out and meet Lorna for a drink before the after party.

  I shake my head at my own naivety. But it’s hard to believe so much could change in so little time. An hour ago, I could go anywhere I pleased with total anonymity.

  It’s worth it though, I tell myself. James is worth it all, and more.

  The car zips out of a back route, and before I know it, we’re on the road. Then we’re out of the city and into the countryside.

  “Where are we going?” I ask James. “I thought the party was in London?”

  “It is,” he replies. “I wanted to show you something first. At the studio.”

  “Ok.” I look at him questioningly, but he faces front, giving nothing away. There’s a smile playing on his lips.

  Hmmmm.

  As the car pulls into the studio, I’m becoming more and more curious.

  “Here,” says James, talking to the driver. And we pull up near to the studio gardens.

  James helps me out of the car, and I stand facing him.

  “So now will you tell me?” I say, my tone exasperated. “Don’t you think I’ve had enough surprises for today?”

  “A person can never have too many nice surprises,” says James. “Follow me.”

  Chapter 40

  He leads me to the entrance of the studio gardens. But instead of going through the entrance, he gestures to a forklift cherry-picker parked just outside.

  “After you.” He gestures to the part of the machine designed to hold people, which has been lowered to ground level.

  “Are you kidding me?” I eye the machine. It has a wheeled base and a square section designed to lift up high when the machine is started up. “You want me to get in that thing?”

  He opens the door of the base.

  “Yes, please.”

  I hesitate. “Can you even operate this?”

  “After a fashion. Get in. I want to show you something.”

  “Can’t I see it from the ground?”

  “Nope.”

  I enter the machine uncertainly. James closes the door behind us and picks up an industrial remote.

  “You’re totally safe,” he promises. “I use these all the time.”

  There’s a sudden burst of noise as the engine fires up, and then the machine lurches into life, lifting us slowly higher.

  I cling onto James’s arm.

  “What exactly do you want me to see?” I ask, feeling giddy with the sudden height change. “Surely, I’ve seen everything in the studio already?”

  “Not everything,” says James. “I’ve been making some adjustments to the Berkeley Studio gardens. I thought you should see them first.”

  “Is this for a movie?” I ask, wondering if he’s remodelled for a new film.

  “That depends,” he says. “On whether you’d like to use it in a script.”

  I stare at him in confusion, before I realise that the forklift has come to a halt. We’re suspended high in the sky, with all of Berkeley Studios below us. It reaches for a long way, all around.

  I turn towards the gardens, wondering what James wants me to look at.

  And then I see what he’s done.

  Oh James! All this, for me?

  The entire gardens have been planted out in red rose bushes. They span an enormous patch of ground, almost beyond my peripheral vision.

  But the roses haven’t just been planted randomly. It takes me a second for the patterns to make sense to me. And then I throw my hands up to my mouth, gasping in delight.

  Written neatly, in hundreds and hundreds of roses, are two words.

  “Marry Me.”

  I can’t speak for emotion. I’m so overwhelmed that, for a moment, I don’t think I’ll be able to get any words out at all.

  Then James turns me
gently around to face him, and he sinks to one knee.

  “So,” he says. “Will you?”

  “Yes!” I blurt. “Yes! Of course I’ll marry you, James.”

  Smiling, he draws out a ring box from his pocket and opens it. Inside is a simple diamond ring, all the more elegant for being understated.

  “This was my mothers,” he says, and I feel more tears burn in my eyes. “She would have loved you, Issy. I think she’d be very happy for you to wear it.”

  “It’s beautiful,” I say. There are no other words.

  “You do realise,” says James, “that when I put this on your finger, you have to do as you’re told forever more.”

  “Not until the wedding day,” I retort. “And probably not even then.”

  He grins up at me, sliding the ring carefully onto my finger.

  “Mrs Berkeley,” he breathes. “I am so looking forward to calling you that.”

  He stands and kisses me gently on the mouth.

  “My Mrs Berkeley.”

  He pulls back a little. “You know it won’t always be easy, Issy. But I’ll take the best measures to keep our wedding and honeymoon out of the newspapers.”

  He kisses me again. “And I’ll work hard to keep us private,” he adds. “I’ve already hired the best public relations team. They’ll train you in everything.”

  I smile serenely at him, floating in a blissful sea of happiness.

  “James,” I say softly. “There really is no need.”

  “There is,” he says. “I’m sorry, Issy, but the press can be brutal. You’ll need training. It’s the only way I can protect you.”

  But I’m shaking my head. A lot of thoughts have started to converge, and I’ve come to a decision.

  “There’s no need,” I say. “Because after this movie, I’m not planning on being an actress.”

  His jaw drops open in amazement.

  “I never wanted to be an actress,” I remind him. “I only agreed to take part in your film to find out more about writing.”

  His expression is one of wonder.

  “So you did,” he says.

  “All I ever wanted to do,” I say, “is write scripts. And now what I want is to write scripts with you.”

  I look at him, making the statement a question.