by Romy Sommer
She didn’t like that look. It was worse than the constant prickle. It was even worse than when he’d tried to flirt with her.
“You’re from Los Pajaros?” Nina asked, her already-big eyes growing rounder.
Christian’s jaw tensed, a sign so subtle that no one else seemed to notice. Tessa did.
“Robbie wanted you to come to set as soon as you’re ready. Shall I let him know you’re on your way?” she asked.
If she’d hoped for gratitude for rescuing him from an awkward conversation, she was disappointed. He nodded and rose from the seat, removing the protective napkins tucked into his collar, then waved for her to precede him out the door.
“Don’t go!” Nina called. “This is just getting interesting. Stay and tell me all about your prince.”
Tessa cast Christian a beseeching look but he was far less magnanimous. “Yes, stay Baroness. You can tell her all about how you went from dating a prince to slumming it here as my PA.”
Damn. He’d read the fine print in the article too.
By the time he stepped in front of the cameras each day, Christian turned into the Energizer bunny and there was no stopping him.
Especially when Dominic was around. They were like two little boys, egging each other on. Tessa learned to tell where they were on set by the sound of laughter.
Their pranks had become legendary. One of her tasks was to provide a steady supply of whoopee cushions and fake turds – and then there was the day she had to scour every pharmacy and supermarket across town for a very specific brand of condom that didn’t appear to exist. She was sure the errands were designed for her maximum embarrassment.
At least she found a ready supply of fake blood in the make-up trailer and saved herself a trip when Christian decided to prank the director into thinking Dominic had wounded him during rehearsal.
But that was by no means her least-favourite task. That honour went to screening Christian’s calls. While he was on set she kept his mobile, answered his calls and took messages. The press phone calls were a pain, but easy to deal with. She simply said “no” and “no comment” unless they were on the approved list.
The requests for charitable donations, memorabilia and signed autographs to auction, and the “please endorse my product” calls, were equally easy to deal with.
The incessant phone calls from women were not.
The worst of them was Christian’s publicist. The poor woman was clearly desperate to talk to him. He was equally determined not to. Instead, Pippa turned to Tessa as her confidante, pouring out her heart and the minute details of their affair.
Having never been the confiding type, it was all Tessa could do to stop herself from telling the woman to get over herself. If there was one thing she’d learned in this first week, it was that Christian wasn’t the type to stick around. He was the proverbial social butterfly, darting from one pretty flower to the next.
All a woman needed to do to make him run in the opposite direction was to expect him to return her calls.
The quicker his publicist learned that, the quicker her heart would heal. Or her ego. Tessa couldn’t work out which had been hurt more.
“Who was that?” Christian poked his head out the door of his trailer’s bedroom.
“Pippa. Again. Just Jared posted a picture of you leaving a restaurant with Nina and she wanted to know how serious it was.”
He grinned. “What did you tell her?”
“I told her you were probably more serious about the Brazilian model whose name you couldn’t remember that your pimp set you up with last night.”
“You should be kinder to yourself.” He laughed and ducked out of sight, which was just as well since the hand holding his brand-new iPhone itched to throw it at him.
Making the call to set him up with some woman he’d seen on page three of the morning papers had definitely been one of the lower points of her week.
Five minutes later Robbie knocked on the door to escort Christian back to set. Tessa sank down on the sofa in the trailer’s living room. The sudden silence boomed loud.
After five days in his presence, twelve hours a day, she still didn’t know much more about Christian than the way he liked his shirts pressed or how much he loved sweet seedless grapes. From her spot in the corner of the make-up trailer, she’d heard all his old “war stories” – adventures he’d had on various movie sets – and she’d learned way more than she wanted to about his love life. But nothing her father would consider useful.
Even the gossip she picked up on set wasn’t of any use. Most of it was as contradictory as his interviews had been. At this rate, she’d be a married woman before she learned what they needed to know.
She dialled her father’s private mobile number.
“Anything new to report?” He sounded eager.
“Nothing new.” She definitely didn’t feel eager. This job should have been over for her by now. “I haven’t seen the ring once. I’m not even sure he has it. And aside from the fact that he was very close to his mother, he’s never once mentioned her living here in Westerwald.”
“It’s been a week already. You need to get closer to him.”
No shit, as Christian would say. She rubbed her temple. “I can’t do that! I’m his employee.” Not to mention she was about to marry someone else. Something she shouldn’t need to remind her own father.
“I’m not suggesting you sleep with him.” Victor sounded exasperated. “Just be friendly enough to get into his room and go through his things.”
She wasn’t so sure they could do friendly, and the thought of going to his room…
With Christian, everything had a sexual undertone. The spark of mischief in his eyes, his voice. And there was the way he looked at her sometimes; that intent look that made her burn hot and cold.
But as patently obvious as his interest was, she wasn’t expecting an invitation to his room any time soon. Since he’d discovered who she was, and the title that went with it, Christian had made it equally obvious he didn’t want to be interested.
She completely understood where he was coming from. She didn’t want to be attracted to him either.
But that was a conversation she was so not having with her father. “I’ll do what I can, but I’m not making any promises.”
“That’s all I ask. I know you can be very resourceful when you want to be.”
Which was about as much of a compliment as she could expect. She sighed. “Yes, Father.”
She stuck her phone back into the leather messenger bag she’d taken to carrying and headed back to set.
This morning they were filming an action sequence in the palace’s entrance vestibule, a vast space with Carrara marble flooring and a magnificent staircase that circled up to the private royal apartments above. The front doors stood wide to provide access for the film crew. With the resulting chill in the air they might as well have been outdoors. Teresa pulled her North Face parka closer around her, and dug her gloved fingers into her pockets.
Most of the film crew looked like Michelin men inside their jackets, but Christian wore nothing more than a dressing gown at the top of the stairs. Hot as it was beneath the film lights, he had to be feeling the bite in the air.
As the AD called for final checks, he removed the gown to allow the make-up artiste a chance to touch up the shadows painted on his torso to emphasise his abs.
“Not that he needs it,” Lee said, appearing beside her.
She jumped. Exactly what she’d been thinking.
“You can stop drooling now,” she bit back.
“Down girl!” Lee laughed quietly beside her. “No need to go all possessive over him.”
He was right. She did feel possessive. In spite of the stupid tasks Christian set her, she felt responsible for him. If he wasn’t such a jerk whenever she was near, and aside from the way the mere sound of his voice could raise goosebumps on her arms, she might even like him. Everyone else did.
“What are you doing here?”
she asked. Lee very seldom came to set. His team usually worked ahead of the main crew, preparing the next day’s locations.
“We’re on our lunch break and I thought I’d drop by and get an eyeful.” He sighed. “Seems I timed it perfectly! Would you like an apple turn-over from the craft table? They’re fresh from the oven.” Lee held out a beautifully crafted piece of pastry on a napkin.
She shook her head. “Thanks, but I don’t like cooked fruit.”
“Goodie, more for me.” He grinned and popped the pastry in his mouth.
The food on set was good. Cappuccinos, fresh fruit and pastries on tap at the craft station, and hot meals prepared in the mobile kitchen every day. If Christian didn’t keep her running for twelve hours of every day, she might not fit into her wedding dress.
“Have you made any progress yet?” Lee whispered as the AD called “Action!”
“Not you too?” She whispered back. “Zero progress. Christian doesn’t trust me. I think perhaps I’m the wrong person for this job.”
Lee rubbed his chin and contemplated Christian as he leapt down the stairs chased by a half dozen uniformed guards. Another group of guards emerged at the bottom of the stairs. He ducked between them and headed past the camera for the doors.
“Cut and re-set,” the AD called.
Christian glanced their way, searching for her. When he spotted Teresa he crooked a finger at her. With an apologetic shrug to Lee, she followed the summons. But not before she caught Lee’s low chuckle. “You’re the perfect person for the job. You just need to work it.”
He would get along great with her father.
The film caterers cooked in a mobile kitchen but the meals were served in what had once been the servants’ hall. It was a vast, draughty room, though definitely warmer than eating outdoors, where the food was cold before it even reached the plate. A cloud of richly scented warmth hit Teresa as she and Lee entered the room.
“Like an army, we march on our stomachs,” he said, grabbing a tray and joining the buffet queue.
“Would you like to go ahead, Ms Adler?” The person ahead of them in the queue asked. He was one of the set runners, fresh out of film school and one of the few locals employed on the production.
She shook her head and smiled. “I can queue like everyone else.”
Lee’s eyebrow arched. “Do you get that often?” he mouthed at her.
She shrugged. Didn’t everybody?
She watched in envy as Lee loaded up his plate full of rich boeuf bourguignon and Parisienne potatoes, and a generous helping of cheesecake on the side, while she settled for a much more modest bowl of lamb tagine and salad.
“What do you men do with everything you eat?” she asked enviously.
“Who exactly do you mean by we men? I can’t speak for anyone else, but me, I just have good genes.”
She’d been thinking of Christian, but she didn’t think good genes alone would account for the sculpted abs. He looked like a man who worked out, though she couldn’t figure out when he found the time. Unless he never slept, which would certainly account for his morning moods.
Robbie waved them over to join him at his table. “So you’ve survived your first week?” he asked Teresa with a cheerful grin as she took the seat across from him.
She shrugged. Survival was a relative thing. Some of Christian’s more bizarre demands made the political sharks she’d met seem like pussy cats. Though she was beginning to suspect his diva behaviour was purely for her benefit.
“Film people are nothing like I expected,” she said instead.
“Oh?” Robbie raised his eyebrows.
“Everyone’s so friendly and unpretentious. And you’re all very accepting.” Tolerant was the word she’d wanted to use, but that would be like admitting the people she mixed with were intolerant of anyone different from themselves.
What had Christian said about the narrow world she lived in?
She brushed away the thought. Her social circle might be small, and filled with people exactly like her, but she would have been much more useful at today’s ladies’ luncheon at the club to discuss the next charity fundraiser than fetching and carrying all day for Christian.
“In this last week I’ve met film crew of every nationality, from all sorts of backgrounds, and none of that matters here. No one here cares where you’ve come from, only what you’re doing right now,” she said.
Robbie nodded. “I guess we’re all so focused on the jobs we’re here to do that all the other bullshit gets checked at the door.”
Lee rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward as if sharing a juicy secret. “Did you know that the hunky assistant grip used to be a stockbroker before he burned out and started this as a new career?” He laid a hand over his chest. “Buff and brainy. Be still my beating heart… and speaking of buff and brainy… ”
Tessa followed Lee’s gaze to where Christian and Dominic had entered the room and joined the lunch queue.
“Which one?” she teased, and Lee sent his gaze heavenward, praying for patience. He’d already made it clear he was a card-carrying member of the Christian Taylor fan club.
“It’s such a treat working with him,” Robbie said around a mouthful of tagine, “Christian’s one of the truly great actors.”
Not him too.
Seeing her scepticism, Robbie waved his fork in the air as he explained. “Most actors, when you walk them to set, they don’t talk to you. They’re already in that zone where they’re preparing to get into character. Christian stays himself right up until that moment he walks on set. Then it’s like he flicks a switch and he becomes someone else. That’s a rare talent.”
Where she came from, that wasn’t called talent. Sociopaths could also be charming and duplicitous.
Robbie’s fervour mounted. “He’s wasted in these action and special-effects movies. I’d love to see him do something with real meat in it.”
“I’ll remember to tell him that,” Teresa said.
Robbie completely missed the dryness of her tone. His face lit up. “Would you? A friend of mine’s written a script I think he’d be perfect for. It’s a little different from his usual stuff, though. Could you get him to take a look?”
She doubted Christian would follow any advice she gave, but she bit back the comment. “No promises, but I’ll give it a try.”
She seemed to be saying that a lot today.
“Who is that guy?” Christian scowled at the flustered catering assistant attempting to dole more salad onto his plate.
“What guy?” Dom asked, craning his neck to look.
“The pretty boy next to my assistant.” He really didn’t intend the my to sound quite so possessive. But it did. His scowl deepened.
“That’s Lee. One of the art directors. Apparently he’s an accomplished set designer too. Talented young man.”
Christian grabbed a napkin, knife and fork from the dispenser at the end of the buffet and made a beeline across the room, leaving Dom to catch up.
“May I have a seat?” He pulled out the vacant chair beside Teresa and smiled at the group around the table.
“Of course.” The blonde hunk with the ill-concealed biceps on the other side of Teresa smiled and gave Christian the once-over. “Any time!”
Christian relaxed. Pretty Boy was no competition.
“I’m Christian.” He leaned forward to offer his hand to Lee. His elbow brushed Teresa’s arm and she shifted away. Or attempted to. There was nowhere for her to go. “And you’re Lee, the set designer.”
Lee preened as he shook Christian’s outstretched hand. “Strictly speaking, I’m only one of the art directors.”
“But very talented. I’ve heard good things about you.”
Dom, in the process of sitting down across the table, choked on a laugh.
“Oh damn, is that the time?” Robbie pushed out his chair and rose. “We’re back on set in five, everyone,” he called to the room at large. Then he turned back to Christian. “We’re mo
ving the camera to the top of the stairs. We’re going to be at least an hour, so take your time.”
Christian nodded, and Robbie excused himself to head back to work.
“So how do you two know each other?” Christian asked, waving his fork from Teresa to Lee.
“We met through Kenzie.”
It took him a moment to place the name. The freckle-faced redhead who’d brought Teresa to the wardrobe room. “The new girlfriend of Teresa’s ex-boyfriend. How cosy.”
Lee pushed his empty plate away and rubbed his stomach. His phone, on the table beside him, beeped a text message and he glanced at it. “Damn. I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got places to go and people to see.” He rose and grinned at Christian, flashing his dimples.
Christian smiled back. “It’s been a pleasure. We should do this again soon.”
Lee winked, patted a hand on Teresa’s shoulder in farewell, and headed off.
Teresa rounded on him. “Do you have to flirt with everyone?”
“That wasn’t flirting.” He held her gaze and smiled, then ran a finger over the back of her hand, where it lay on her lap. She shivered. “This is flirting.”
The colour rose up beneath her pale porcelain skin, a wash of rose-pink staining her throat and her cheeks. But it took barely a heartbeat for her to regroup. Her eyes narrowed, turning to chips of burning blue ice, and he removed his hand.
She rose from her seat, all smooth grace and repressed emotion. “I’ll be re-stocking your trailer fridge if you need me.” Then she turned on her heel and walked away.
Damn. Any other woman would have been willing to sacrifice her firstborn after he gave them The Look. But not Teresa. She was so tightly wound, nothing he did could penetrate the armour. What would it take to get under her skin, to make her feel?
Her over-organised little life needed a good shake-up almost as much as she needed the volcano to blow. Almost as much as he needed the volcano to blow.
Dom’s laughter brought him back to the present. “You’re losing your touch, dude!”
Christian threw his napkin at him, but it didn’t help. Dom was still laughing.